Prologue:
May he who suffers through the darkness searching for the sun-be a light; a shining star to those behind him who are seeking themselves. Each of us is a torch for whoever is behind us. If we close our eyes, do we not shut the rest of the world into darkness? Truth is a light of its own. So, come now ... whoever reads this, and pick up a lantern. It has been dark for too long.
We are all in the labyrinth, and truth lies in the treasure hidden in the unreachable core. Lies, falsehood, and deception await you, but you can escape them by waking yourself from a society that sleeps in imagined safety. Set out alone and wipe the mud from your eyes. Can you see? Do you want to see? If so, you must travel deep into the musty corridors of confusion, and the thick cold walls of your own making. Where do these dreary, dark tunnels lead to my friend? This harsh journey goes through the most rugged, unexplained territory possible. Not many people dare to face it. Come here, into the clutches of my words, so I may whisper my secret to you.
My dear love, this mysterious place is you. The wisest words I have found thus far are "Gnothi Seauton," which is Greek for "Know Thyself." That is the key to the treasure you seek, so why do you throw it away? The mask you wear will stick to your face and your own lies shall eat you. Come ... pick up a lantern, it is getting late.
Though I must warn you, knowledge can be dangerous and unsettling. Proceed no further-if you cannot handle the consequences. No one will think badly of you. Make your choice now. If you continue, there is no escape. The All Seeing Eye awaits your decision. Conceal yourself before it's too late, for terrible things lie ahead-Gray beings lurk in anticipation. Shove this book back on its shelf and say, "Nevermore."
I knew you wouldn't, you must be like me. But, you must hurry-The Men in Black are getting closer-there are still things you must do.
First, you have chosen to carry the lantern. Wise choice, though not an easy one. Sometimes, I want to be an ordinary person, but I cannot and neither can you-not anymore. I would embrace you and tell you that it is all right, but my own lantern gathers dust. I have to go my way in solitude, though my light shall shine for you as the light from others shines for me.
Secondly, be careful what is moving about you as you sleep. Come now, and run for cover into this temple. Leave pain and fear outside. Enter the life of me, Vieve Grayson and thank the many stars that you are not like me.
Chapter 1
Naked, as if a daughter of Eve, I curl up for comfort against my pillow. My bony hands shield my face as I whimper in defeat. Daytime is only a minor disturbance to most-the lucky ones. However, sunlight has a frequency that jams my thoughts, and forces them to attune to the physical realm where I blunder. It burns my lenses, forcing me to look within-to better places. You would like it there, but I haven't permission to take you yet. For now, I writhe and move into the shadows like a damaged creature of the night and only then find respite.
I hate to wake up with the sun digging into my sensitive eyes. Golden rays leech at my vision, at my programmed reality, causing me to convulse and release a guttural sound though no one can hear me.
Please, hear me.
I'm not sure if anyone can hear the thoughts I am projecting. Huddle close to me if you can hear this story. Human warmth pleasures me, and some say this cool female body is pleasant to the eyes. I am still shaking-perhaps as cold natured as any reptile-but if I hiss, it is not at you. I am only half like them-It is the other half that is relaying this story, so listen and listen well. I am going to keep myself in a dream-like state for the rest of our journey, so as not to frighten you or myself, with this knowledge. I will merely relay this story, as if from a safety-mode, where neither the real world nor the unknown can come crashing down on us.
This is what happened two days before Halloween. The year is unimportant. Time and space do not exist, except within the confines of human reality. They are merely a tool-nothing concrete-so let us go back and begin again, as the sun awakened me that cruel day.
* * * *
I try to return to my slumber until I sense a presence. It feels like a coating of glue enveloping my brain, dripping down to each nerve and fiber. The awareness overtakes me, and I cannot hide-not even in my private thoughts. Every insecurity, embarrassment, and flaw-they see and analyze. I feel made of glass. I want to shatter and lose myself in the cracks. The fragments would segment me-conceal me. Ah, how peaceful that would be!
Just then, something moves to my left-at the edge of my bed-so I grab a small metal disk for my protection. I keep it under my pillow just in case, and feel relieved when I press it into my palm, but I don't think it works. Made of copper and glass, concealing a hidden middle of unknown substance, it both pulls and repels me like a magnet out of whack. Area 51 must have found a deterrent to abductions by creating a device altering one's natural energy fields when held. No 'beaming up' for me. I squeeze it tight, praying hard, hoping someone listens. My eyes scan the green rug upward and then scrutinize each direction. I hope it is not under my bed. I am too scared to look.
Fleeting images of grayness pass toward my closet. Like a swirl of color in motion caught on a photograph-It froze in my attention-snatched up, held by my analytical brain, and then hastily released by my fear. I never get used to them. I try to make sense of it in my mind, but it is only my version. I have not a clue what is really going on.
I lay back down, against the wall where the light cannot harass me. I shrug off the visitor, because I choose to-It is my only defense. I momentarily dream of broken images. My mind tries to lull into oblivion, but my attention is reverted when my body is touched. It jerks my consciousness back into my mind. A hand runs down my bare thigh-I tense from this invasion.
Suddenly, skeletal-thin hands in a sickening shade of grey, seek to cover me with my blanket. I realize I am awake and my heart constricts. I cannot scream, because they never allowed me to scream. They grab the round disk from my hand and release a high-pitched chattering before striking and scratching at me. Apparently, my little novelty from the Alien Resistance Movement angered them. Maybe, deep down, I did want to fight them.
Why can't you leave me alone?
Frozen, I watch three sets of hands fight against me. I try to push the velour blanket off, but they keep pushing it back over my tangled, blond head. Finally, I let it stay there, because I no longer care what is on the other side. My lungs struggle to fill with air, so I make a tiny opening to breathe. I allow myself to fall asleep and to escape what we call the real world. Later, when I awoke, they appeared to be gone.
However, someone else has come for me. The Men in Black are outside my door. I live in a first floor condo, and I can hear them wading through my bushes. Branches scrape my window. Voices say, "Shh." Guns cock. All my senses, except for one, are acute. The atmosphere has left my breathing and my sense of smell damaged to some degree. I can still determine each precise robotic step. My time is short. I have to act. All my prayers must seem like nothing. I dangle on the edge of desperation, holding my head. Maybe the Grays tried to help me. It is too late-I am left behind. I, at least hope the Dark One, in his crisp suit gazes deep into my eyes one last time before he kills me. If I can cling to him-to his unknowable depth-I will not be afraid to die. Because I like what I see and feel when I am connecting with him, even if it isn't real to him.
Perhaps I should return to when it first began, or at least, to when I first started allowing myself to remember. I was ten years old and living in Virginia with my sister and parents. Life was a carefully manipulated lie. We went along with it because we did not know any better. That was when I started to learn that I might be different. I realized that the horror included me.