The nightmare that came true

So, in stories, sometimes on TV or in a movie, there comes a time when a character is having a terrible nightmare. The nightmare is symbolic of the stresses of life that they are feeling. One of these common trope-like nightmares is the one where someone is going through some change, and the person having the nightmare is not certain how to handle it. So they dream that the person that's changing turns their back and starts walking away. Typically what follows next is that the character having the nightmare dreams that they are running as fast as they can to catch the person who, despite their efforts to catch up, only end up getting further away. Somewhere near the end of the nightmare, the person disappears completely, and the dreamer tends to find themselves alone and faced with a situation (sometimes being engulfed by darkness, sometimes attacked by a monster, it varies) before they wake up.

I know that I have seen this idea of a nightmare several times represented in a variety of media. I had not really given much thought to this nightmare, or the feeling associated with it. For whatever reason, it never seemed more important to me than a simple plot point meant to indicate the amount of stress and uncertainty that the character experiencing the nightmare was feeling.

Recently, however, I have started to realize how much this is a nightmare that I would have had, were I only a literary character in some tale. Growing up, I have had many acquaintances, and a few friends. The connections I built with people, however, often did not stand the test of time.

Geographical changes, or simple divergence of personalities tend to have lent the relationships built something of an expiration date. Life events that I was partially, or even sometimes completely, unaware of in another's life have contributed to many of my so-called friends moving on. And while this is probably to be expected (let us face it, nobody stays the same forever)... this has also led to something of an issue for me.

As it has been, my life has been a rather surrounded-by-people-still-alone kind of story. I spent much of my youth feeling unliked by my peers. (I was picked upon rather mercilessly for most of my early primary education.) Sometimes, I became friends with someone, and the meaning of those relationships to me was greater than usual because of how isolated I felt. Ultimately, most of these friendships were limited, and expired before I had even understood why they were special to me.

In my teenage and early adolescent years, I struggled to live this double life, as feelings that I developed were frequently rejected by the ones I trusted and cared about most deeply. I was often reminded that the feelings I had were not valid, and because of this I had a hard time connecting to others, and even some of my closest relationships began to feel hollow and meaningless. Around this time, I also began to attempt to end the double-life I was being forced to live (by circumstance), but every attempt made seemed to be of little worth, or landed me in big trouble. It was most likely not helpful that I spent a large swath of this time as a rather gullible, naïve guy who trusted people more than he should have. (Honestly, the trust I had for people was mainly because of my desperate attempt to connect with someone when I knew, and did not want to accept, that trusting people could hurt me. What can I say, I was highly idealistic.) As time went by, I was frequently challenged to question if the feelings I had were valid, just because if they weren't, my life would have been so much easier.

As I entered my mid-adolescence, I faced quite the opposite problem. I had managed to end the double-life I had been dealing with before, but had come to distrust pretty much everyone. (Hurt me once, shame on you, hurt me twice shame on me.) I did not give up on trying to form bonds with others, but I faced the grim truth that the bonds I formed were not these great pillars of strength to endure the ages. Yet, even with this truth staring me in the eyes, I found myself desperately seeking to form bonds, which for some reason seemed to become easier. My guess is that these bonds came easier because I expected practically nothing from them.

Now, entering my early adulthood, I am faced with something else entirely. The same nightmare that has graced so many forms of storytelling has barreled into the forefront of my mind. The past several years have been a very difficult time full of firsts, and new transitions. It has been exciting, and difficult. Wonderful, and filled with some of my greatest sorrows.

So, now I have once again felt the deep pressure of the sense of loss and loneliness that has become a companion to me. Strangely, this loss is one anticipated, and not yet fully realized. For that very reason, it is practically as if the anticipation of it is the nightmare itself. The nightmare that comes before the waking to the truth, which is often the same as the nightmare, but far less figurative.

Not that long ago, I made a friend. When I first met him, I found him quite attractive. I spent a long time telling him how much I did find him attractive, at first. He had insisted that he was not like me, in that his interests, romantically at least, lie elsewhere (hetero, not gay). As I had learned to do in my adolescence, I took it hard, but eventually let it go. Then it came to light that he was actually not being honest... and not just to me, but to himself. He had lied to himself because of the fears he had about what the truth may mean. Just like I had when I was younger, and found myself being assaulted verbally for expressing the confusing feelings I had. So, I showed some support to this friend. I told him that the important thing is for him to be himself, regardless of what others may think. I asked him to do something totally absurd: to question his own beliefs, to think critically about where he was, where he was going, what he wanted, and why. Eventually, he realized that all the time he had spent trying to hide his truth from everyone, even himself, had been time where he could have been learning about himself more. It had not been "wasted", only a learning experience that he wished he had not taken so long to complete. This friend and I became very close, and one day I confided to him one of my deepest darkest secrets: I was scared. Scared of being alone. So often I had lost the people I called friends, and I was now so close to him, I was worried we would also drift apart. At that time, he promised to be by my side. So, with eagerness and hope, I named him my "best friend". Even more recently, things changed for this friend. Something, and someone, wonderful came into his life. And though his time and relationship with me had not lost any value, it was finally his time to move on. So, with a heavy heart, I watched as he turned around and left. It was not as if he wanted to end our friendship, no, nothing of the sort. Instead, he had found something very valuable, and our friendship was not so important as to let me keep him from taking this valuable thing away. In a cruel twist of emotions, though, I felt somewhat betrayed. I felt jealous, envious, and angry. All the time I had spent hoping to have a strong bond like the one he had found, and I was left empty-handed... but when he seemed the least interested to find a bond like that, one had seemingly fallen into his lap. It wasn't fair, I said. But in truth, my negativity about it was the unfair thing. I had no right to deny his happiness, and I had no right to complain. So, I pulled myself together, told him how I felt, and apologized. And although it was not necessary for me to do so, I had done so because I felt wrong about how I had felt toward him. In the end, he still moved on.

Fairly recently, I made another friend. When I first met her, it was due to some unusual circumstances. A mutual acquaintance had introduced us to each other. The primary reason we met was because we were going to work on a project. The project, it ended up, was doomed from the beginning to failure. There were too many things that the project wanted to do, and not enough ideas about how to make the project accomplish them. The regular meetings for the project, however, gave me plenty of exposure to this person. It became clear rather quickly that she and I were similar. Our personalities were quite on par with each other's. So when the project came to an end, we ended up finding ourselves friends. She and I shared our heartbreaks, and our pasts. Mine was told with a dramatic flair, most of which was because of the seeming absurdity of the ludicrous myriad experiences I had, growing up. Hers was less dramatic, but had its own underlying theme. I was like a melody, and she was a perfect harmony. We each deeply understood how the other felt about things in life. In far less time than I expected, I confessed to her the same deep and dark secret I had shared with the other friend (who, at the time, was still around). I admitted that my fear was that I would end up alone. I explained that with each successful time I had deemed someone to be a "best friend", they had without doubt left me. I begged her to tell me if she would stay. I was too nervous that she may take that title, and that once again it may result in someone leaving my life. She and I came to a 'blood oath' that neither of us would move on from the other without saying something. We solemnly swore that we would not let our relationship drift apart, and that should we need to move on, we would give the other fair warning it was happening, and a reason why. No more questions, no more doubts. It came, therefore, by no surprise that when the other friend left the spot of "best friend" vacant, I was devastated. My other 'best friend' gone had hurt, but with time I grew closer to my new friend. After the "oath" was made, I triumphantly named her my best friend.

Now, I find myself living that nightmare. The precursor to the reality, but this time it is not just a dream. Like the "best friend" before, a strong bond like we have been seeking, has potentially revealed itself to her. There is the chance, although not the guarantee, that the process could happen once again. Once again, I could find that my best friend is having to move on because something so valuable came to be that I, while not irrelevant, have become a smaller consideration (thinking of time as a limited resource). So, it is now a dire situation for me. I feel as though I am in a dark tunnel, and at the end of it is a light so brilliant, I cannot see what is inside it. I have met two other travellers in the tunnel, and they have agreed to accompany me. One of them is doing it because I asked him to. The other because she is headed the same direction as I am. Then someone came along, and the person along only because I asked (otherwise, he would have been content to sit and relax) took his hand, and started walking toward the light at the other end. I tried to catch up, but it was no use. Now, it is as if the one who walked with me, because we were both headed to the light, has also come across another person and started walking with them. I find myself running as fast as I can to reach the light, and to catch up to the ever-retreating backs of my friends... and yet the speed with which I sprint has no meaning, because I travel no distance. Yet the figures in front of me still grow smaller and more obscured by the very light I seek.

I am finding myself... left alone again. Not abandoned, merely surpassed. I don't want any of my friends who may read this to think that I am angry at them. I don't want any of them thinking that I would rather they forgo the happiness they may be able to grasp, for my sake. Those ideas could not be farther from the truth, but naturally I do feel concern that it may sound as if this is what I want.

On the contrary, what I desire is that I may come to experience the happiness that they have (and may have) found. Yet I am still here in the darkness of the tunnel. As I said before, the true events that play out after the nightmare have yet to begin... but the anticipation itself may as well be the events should they occur, for the amount of distress I find myself in.

I often find myself wondering if there has been something I have done wrong. Some reason I have been stuck in the darkness of this tunnel. I have asked myself if perhaps one day when I was not paying attention, I signed a waiver of happiness. Something like "I, Zack, hereby relinquish all rights to my happiness, both present and future, and reserve no right to reclaim said happiness at any time."

I have this great weight that sits inside my chest. A deep longing and sadness, that seems to fill my lungs with each breath I take. My heart feels like stone, unmoving, and heavy. Not stone naturally, but scarred from the hurts of my past and my present. Each scar healing over a wound which caused it to bleed and hurt. Each scar made of stone, yet leaving my heart still just as vulnerable. Until the weight of the heaviness becomes all-consuming, I cannot relieve it. I seek desperately to cry, and cry aloud. To let out tears of anguish and feel the rush of endorphins that comes with it. To finally remove the stress from my shoulders, if only for a moment. Yet, this too, I cannot do. The tears refuse to come for me, no matter how I beckon them, until at last I am crushed beneath the weight of my own sadness, loneliness, and fear. Then, and only then, in that moment, the tears I cry revitalize me, and lift just enough weight that I can once again stand. And then, for a time, I can continue my desperate pleas that the darkness engulfing me would dissipate. But the weight returns, and it does so frequently.

The thoughts that come to mind are surely unhealthy. They are surely all lies. But these lies, when reinforced by my experiences, feel as if they are unwaveringly true. "I am not good enough. I am not worthy of being loved. I am a terrible person. Nobody will love me, and nobody should. I am disgusting, and my body is something of which I should be ashamed. Nobody will ever be able to see past my physical body to see me. I will be alone forever, never knowing romance, never knowing love. The people who say they love me only do so because they have to or because they pity me. My worth is negligible. It would not matter greatly whether I am alive or dead. If I were to die, it would ultimately have no impact upon the world. If I were dead, the only people who would show up at my funeral would be those obligated to do so. Life is not terribly important. Life is so painful, it makes little sense to cling to it. There is no chance that things will improve. I must be the best at everything I do to make up for the fact that I am a failure anyway. The only reason anyone wants to be around me is because I can do something for them. I only have value living if someone is using me for something. Nothing I think or feels matters to anyone else. I may never experience any joy or happiness beyond meaningless transient pleasures that come and go. If I were to lose my usefulness to the people around me, it would be better if I were dead instead of a burden to them."

These are the thoughts that consume my waking moments. I try to ignore that these thoughts arise. By pretending they do not exist, I am able to live a relatively normal life. For all accounts, some would even say that the life I live is supremely blessed. I am on track to be debt free only a few years out of college, I have a job with wonderful benefits, and I have all my needs met (physically) and even some of my wants (like entertainment).

But in truth, all of the darkness lies beneath the surface. I am a pool of water, seeming to be clear and glistening and shallow. Filled with light, and calm. But I am actually a cave just beneath the pool, completely obscured from the light reflecting off my surface, and torn apart inside by turbulent torrents, as currents swirl about, breaking me apart, gradually.

So, what I am trying to say here, is that I am once again scared. I do not want to be alone. I want to be desired, loved, important. Sadly, this is not how I feel. I am so happy for my friends, I want them to be happy. I want them to experience joy.

I just don't want to miss out on happiness myself, even though I feel that is my only option.

Some music

So, I thought I would compose a small piece of music based upon how I feel on an average day.

I'm going to leave a link to it here, so please have a bit of a listen, and let me know if you feel the same sometimes.

-Zack

Daily Life

The Saga of the Stones

 There was a legend, as it was told, that a great cataclysm would come, signaling the end of the world. At that time, 12 stones would appear, each unique and distinct, as a gift from the gods to the people. And for as long as all 12 stones were in the possession of different people, fire would rain from the heavens upon the land. And it was said that as the cataclysm drew near, 8 heroes empowered by the stones would arrive at a mountain, and using the sacred power bestowed upon them, they would prevent the world from being destroyed, for a time, but that eventually the process would repeat. And so it was that this legend became well known throughout the world, as a religion was established that spread this legend, and taught that all should be in prayer that the gods would not rescind their promise to provide what would be their one hope: the stones, when the end of time came.

“You will never get my stone! Even if I die, you will not have it!” The hunched over man said, as he leaned upon his staff.

“You must hand it over, and come with us, or this world is to be doomed, do you not understand?” Carol exclaimed to him.

“I will do everything I can do prevent you from taking it.” He yelled, before he began casting his magic at her. Carol did not understand why this had to be so hard, but nevertheless, she was dedicated to ensuring that she had the stones needed to prevent the end from coming.

Carol dodged his first fireball, and was thrown back when a bolt of lightning struck her short sword, sending it flying out of her hand. She landed on the ground, prone. As the hunched man raised his staff to cast one final spell to finish her off, Carol’s companion, who had been hiding just in case, struck him from behind.

“I told you that trying to negotiate would probably fail, love. Believe me now?” Ferrik said to her.

“It is not that I didn’t believe you, it was simply that I hoped it need not be so.”

“Right, so where did he keep that stone?” Ferrik stated as he searched the body of the man. After several minutes of searching, he found the stone. He touched it, and it glowed, swiftly he placed it into his pouch.

“The rain of fire has not stopped.” Carol stated, as she looked at the sky in the distance.

“This must mean that all 12 stones are still in the hands of different people. Just as the gods ordained it.”

Ferrik and Carol had been in the regrettable situation of being the first chosen by the stones to perform whatever rite was needed to save the world. They had been lucky, however, to meet before this fate had been bestowed upon them, and now were travelling companions, attempting to gather the stones or the stone bearers, to take them to the mountain they believed may hold the key to saving the world from its inevitable demise.

“Still, doesn’t the passage say that only 8 people and 8 stones are needed to prevent the cataclysm?” Ferrik asked, following up on the thought of losing one of the stones.

“Yes, and that means there are 4 more stones than needed, and 4 more bearers of those stones who may cause us trouble yet.” Carol replied. When Carol and Ferrik arrived back at the inn where they had been staying nearby, Frieda came up to them, excited.

“So, guys, did you get another stone?” She asked. They smiled, indicating that the stone was safe. "Excellent, has the rain of fire stopped?" They shook their heads, and Frieda sighed.

“Now, now, Frieda, things will improve, I promise! We will find the last bearers needed, and make our way to the mountain!” Carol said to comfort her.

“I was so excited to get a stone. I had thought ‘finally, it is my chance to do something useful!’, but so far all it’s been is walking around and occasionally talking to people who don’t do anything to help us out!” Frieda moaned. Zephyr walked down the stairs from his room.

“Come, now, Frieda. You know that we are fortunate to have already found each other. After all, by any account, there is no way we should have been able to gather over half the people we need to end these miserable days.” Zephyr said, comfortingly.

“Over half? I think you misunderstand. We only have the four of us, and only five stones! Over half means nothing if we don't have all we need.” Frieda responded. “Is that so? Because I do recall that Gordon has a stone, and could be able to assist with the quest we find ourselves upon.”

“Come now, Zephyr, let us not forget that last we spoke to him, Gordon was too concerned with how it might affect his passengers if he were to leave his ship to come with us to the mountain. We could hardly say that he is on our side. He showed no interest in coming to our aid. His concern lies only with himself.” Carol stated in exasperation.

“Trust me, I know Gordon. The only reason he is concerned about leaving his ship is because of the war going on right now on the continent. His main concerns are the people living aboard. Let us not forget that his ship has become nothing short of a refugee nation. And as usual, a nation without a leader will soon find itself overtaken by those who recognize the vacuum of power at the top.”

“I know that, but we have the fate of more than a single nation of people on our hands. Should our mission fail, we have no assurances there will be anywhere left for anyone to live, and we are quickly running out of time.”

“Please, Carol, let us not over-react here. It is true that the situation is grim, but the rain of fire has still not reached landfall. It still sizzles out before it gets low enough to the ground to harm anything.”

“Have you so quickly forgotten? The rain of fire is not the cataclysm we are trying to prevent. It is merely the omen that the time is coming.”

“Still, we should get some rest, and determine what to do, and where we should go tomorrow. We can save the fighting for when our mission is complete.” Frieda stated, attempting to break up their fight.

So the party did decide to get some rest, after a well-deserved meal.

Meanwhile, a continent away, the war raged on between the nations of Filian and Cordareux. Thousands upon thousands of men were clashing steel upon steel, spilling red in the fields and trampling fallen enemies and comrades alike to try to gain an advantage.

"Another group of refugees just came in, Captain." The second in command stated to Gordon, as he entered the bridge. "Also, it appears that we have a message that arrived for you."

"Great, just what we need: more problems. Where is the message?" Gordon asked. The second in command passed a letter to him. Gordon knew who it was from and what it would say just by the seal on the letter. "That fool, Zephyr. Probably demanding that I leave my post to help his forsaken quest to gather the stones."

Gordon opened the letter. Sure enough, it was an update from Zephyr stating they had found a fifth stone, and were only two away from being able to make the pilgrimage to the sacred mountain. Before he managed to finish reading, there was a loud scuffle outside which drew his attention away. Stepping out on his ship, Gordon saw that several of the refugees that had just arrived from Cordareux were fighting with the refugees that had already been onboard hailing from Filian. Attempting to keep the peace as the captain of a ship that is also a nation which roams the seas (because of its size), was always a difficult task, but he had plenty of experience in settling these scuffles.

"You there! If you want to fight, then get off my ship and go back to the battlefields. I'm sure the military would love to have some fresh meat to help with watering those fields in blood. But if you want to survive, then you will stop fighting on my ship, lest I kill you myself!" He yelled, angrily.

And as quickly as the fighting had started, he had ended it. Fights like these were becoming more frequent as the ship continued to accept refugees, and the tensions kept rising due to the ongoing nature of the war. Going back to the letter, Gordon finished reading it. Sure enough, there were the words he had expected. If in any way you can help us, we need you and the stone in your possession. Gordon spat in frustration. Zephyr clearly did not understand how fragile the system on his ship is. Without him around, no doubt the fighting would not stop, and then his ship would be a new battleground for the same war the refugees have been attempting to escape.

Nevermind the fools who are warring, Gordon thought. After all, anyone foolish enough to believe that fighting over the sacred mountain, instead of focusing on performing the ritual atop it to save everyone, was a good idea, clearly did not have priorities in the right place. And yet, there were two. Both Filian and Cordareux had people in charge who thought that they could leverage saving the world on the sacred mountain as a reason why they should be sovereign, and to that extent, they had fought for control of the mountain. 

Zephyr, Carol, Ferrik, and Frieda were just about to depart the inn when two people dressed oddly for the weather came inside, carrying a third who seemed to be wounded. As they entered, the stones that the party had warmed, and began to glow.

Zephyr ran to the side of the injured man. "Let me help, I have some supplies that I can use to patch him up." The man's two companions, one who was a boy in his 20s and another a woman appearing to be middle-aged, thanked Zephyr for his help.

"I'm Marco, and this is Aelia. What is your name, stranger?" Marco asked.

"I am Zephyr. And those are my travelling companions: Carol, Ferrik, and Frieda. We are looking for something important, and I believe you may know something about that."

Aelia looked away, as if she was concerned about the fact Zephyr was referring to something valuable. Zephyr knew by that look, and by the way the stones had reacted, Aelia was a bearer, and it was possible Marco was also. To ease their apprehension, he produced his stone after he finished bandaging their companion.

"I am a bearer of the stone, as are my friends. We are trying to find enough stones and bearers to stop the cataclysm that is sure to be fast approaching." Aelia seemed to relax a little.

"Marco and I are also bearers. So is our friend, Doran, but someone attacked us and stole his stone. He has been getting worse over time. I was fearful for his life, but we have no supplies or money to get a doctor." Aelia stated.

"I wonder..." Zephyr said aloud, "Ferrik! Come here a moment."

"Yes, Zephyr, what's up? That guy doesn't look so good."

"Better now than before I tended to his wounds. Say, if you still have the stone you just acquired, do you think you could lend it to me for a moment?"

"Of course I still have it. I wouldn't dare go losing something like that. Also, we're on the same team, so I have no issues with handing it over. After all, we only really need one for each of us." Ferrik handed over the stone. Zephyr immediately placed the stone in the hand of Doran, and as he did, Doran awoke.

"Whoa! Where are we, guys?" Doran immediately asked Marco and Aelia.

"Amazing! I didn't realize the stones had this kind of power." Marco exclaimed.

"I believe that the stone I just put in Doran's hand may have been the one taken from him. Doran, does that stone appear familiar."

"I would swear it is the same. But how did you come by it, and what do you know of the stones?" He responded.

"A rather unscrupulous character was in possession of this stone, or so I hear. And Marco, would you also happen to be a bearer?" Zephyr asked.

"Indeed. But I am worried that we may not be able to stop the cataclysm. Even if we were to join forces, we would be one short."

"Nonsense. We have an 8th who would help us, he just needs to know it's worthwhile." Zephyr replied.

Gordon was just returning to his cabin when he felt a jolt of energy run down his spine, and suddenly heard Zephyr as clearly as if Zephyr had been standing next to him.

"Gordon, I know you are hesitant to leave your ship, but we have found three other bearers and stones. Together we now number seven, and eight if we can count on you. We have been friends for years, Gordon, and I hope that you will be waiting for us on the sacred mountain. It may be our only hope to save not only your ship, but the entire world."

Gordon regained control of his faculties, and muttered to himself how he hates it when people use magic on him, and how inconvenient it was that he was being asked to abandon his ship in order to travel through a war zone.

As Zephyr, Aelia, Marco, Doran, Carol, Frieda, and Ferrik were on their way to the mountain, they arrived at the edge of the battlefield upon which the Filian soldiers were making their advance further into the ranks of their opposition. Knowing that there was no way around that would allow them to reach the mountain swiftly, the group ventured into the fray.

Zephyr used his haste magic to fire arrows at high speeds, dispatching soldiers that came to slice him up before they could reach him.

Carol avoided arrows and the occasional sword strike by blocking with her shield, and using her short sword, she dispatched those who barred her way, thinking her an enemy.

Ferrik did not have to make any motions to disable anyone on the battlefield, as his stealth was unparalleled, leaving enemies confused when they lost sight of him mere moments after he appeared.

Aelia and Frieda both sang magical tunes which shielded them from the blows of the people around them, although they still had to stay behind Carol to avoid being hit by the projectiles.

Marco used his hand-to-hand combat skills to disarm and disable any threats near him, and was even able to deflect projectiles using scraps on the battlefield and perfect aim.

Doran used his ring to keep him aware of his surroundings, his blade helped him fight off his enemies, and his shield blocked a portion of the things that came toward him, although not as effectively as Carol's.

After an hour of fighting their way through the battlefield, the group arrived at the base of the mountain. Though everyone was tired, they were too concerned about making sure that they stopped the cataclysm to rest.

As the party headed up the mountain, fire began raining upon them in large spheres. Each ball of fire hit with the force of a boulder hurled from a catapult. The party combined what power they had to avoid the few that they could not dodge alone, but this took even more energy.

Just as they saw the summit, an exceptionally large fireball came straight for the party. Everyone was too tired to do anything to stop it. In that one instant, each of them felt as if it was certain that the world was doomed.

Just then, Gordon jumped out of a nearby den, and fired his harpoon gun at the fireball, causing it to explode midair.

"Gordon! You came!" Carol yipped, excitedly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Let's get this over with. The moment people realize I'm gone, everything is going to go to hell in a handbasket unless we stop this."

As the eight of them arrived at the summit, two others stood there, in dark and drab clothing, emitting an aura of malice, their silhouettes strong against the pure white background of the snow. Each of them held a stone, and together they began casting spells at the group.

It was a desperate battle, but after the fighting was over, somehow they had survived. The casters that had attacked them were not so fortunate. Although they survived, they were all seriously hurt and completely exhausted.

Gathering in a circle, the eight heroes said a prayer passed down by the religion, and just as their scriptures said, the rain of fire stopped, and the clouds that had enveloped the world dissipated. The last of their strength waned, and the heroes fell into the snow.

And so legend went that there were 8 heroes who stopped the cataclysm from occurring, wielding 8 stones gifted to them by the gods. It was said that whenever trouble arose, calling on the names of the heroes would cause them to lend their strength. Rumor has it, though, that somewhere, there are still two with the power of the stones, who still seek to destroy the world, waiting for the next time fire rains from above.

In times of darkness

So, there has been a lot of terrible news happening lately.

Which, I suppose, is not really a new thing. Bad things are always happening somewhere, but whether a spotlight is used to bring attention to it or not depends.

As always, when tidings of war and disease spread through media outlets, people come from the woodwork to discuss and commentate, like busy little termites finding new trees to feast upon and grow.

So, I feel fortunate that for the most part, these terrible happenings, these pitiable phenomena, are things that at this point do not appear to impact my life significantly.

Yet, there are comments that have been made recently by the same people who always have to turn the bad into worse, in the name of defending something they feel good.

Yes, indeed, the people who claim that hurricanes wiping out the residences of thousands of people, or diseases killing hundreds upon hundreds, are good things. Recently, one of those comments hit close to home. Of course, it is only natural that it would, because it was a comment that intersects part of my personal background.

Although I do not care to draw attention to the individual, there was someone who had been claiming that the outbreak of Ebola was a good thing, that it was a 'divine retribution' that would be used as a plague to wipe out all those not chosen by god. (No capitalization because the God I believe in does not share the same dark sentiments about specific classes of people.)

The irony, that in a time of some of the most enlightened people, where technological and scientific understanding is booming, people would still believe that praying alone would cause a disease to target only a specific portion of the population, and furthermore, to protect others from the disease.

Listen, guys, we are all adults here. We all have the capacity to look up how Ebola spreads. Surprise, surprise, it is just like any other virus or disease: opportunistic. It doesn't care who it infects. Its sole goal is to survive, populate, grow, spread, and adapt. Basic survival operations, inherent to life as we know it regardless of organism.

So, then, why are there still those who would choose to ignore the facts in favor of hoping to damn a portion of the population with personality characteristics or physical appearances that are 'undesirable' with something that is deadly, difficult to control, and indiscriminate?

The answer is clear, because in times of darkness, there are always going to be those who fall into several distinct (and also occasionally overlapping categories):

• The candle-bearers- these are the people who hope for the light, and try to bring it to their own situation and those around them, but have little reach beyond themselves
• The floodlights- these are the people who shine brightly, reaching great distances, but ultimately still can't reach everyone
• The shadow hoarders- these are the people who covet the shade, they call darkness light, and shy away from the true light when others bring it around.
• The glow worms- these are the people who are unaffected by the darkness regardless of how deep it is, because it never touches them, but they seek nothing to keep it from others

So, if I want to put people in these categories, and even worse, to chastise the shadow hoarders for saying that disease, suffering, and war are good things, would it not be fair to categorize myself?

Sure, and I will admit, I am no floodlight. I am quite the glow worm, or perhaps somewhere between that and a candle-bearer. I have a limit to what I can do to help others, but I am disappointed that there are people who would wish disease, death, and all manner of terrible things on people who they do not understand.

It is, in my opinion, admonishable, as having those values can only lead to disaster. No person should have the right to ordain that another group should be wrought destruction in ways that cause unbelievable pain and suffering, just because of differences that are (in truth) only surface-level. Though I will say that the fact remains that choosing to have beliefs that others' lives are worthless because of a few fundamental differences that have no impact, is one difference that is not only on the surface. That is a difference that goes to the very core of who a person is.