THE ESCAPE

By Walter Mallon

I am not fearful in my ascent to the heavens. Although bred of such misanthropy, I cannot help but feel that my trepidation is due to the resonant sound of the engines and the brooding possibility of mechanical failure than that of the uncertainty of my endeavor; notwithstanding the presumption that I will never lay eyes on another of my kind again. Ostensibly I do not, or never have had, a convivial demeanor.

As I sit in my vessel, I am drunk with rapture knowing that I will never again have to associate with such a mundane and utterly unintelligible race of beings, which unfortunately, I am a member. Although I look back at the cerulean sky and verdant plains with ambivalence, I am confident that I have made the right decision. My world of war, prostitution, and sanctimony is not far from a harrowing ruin. I am filled with joy knowing I will never hear the ululation's of the detested vagabonds when their debaucheries are ended by the flames of anguish that will implode their skulls and leave their corpse's uninterred and at odds with nature, if she not be felled in the fury. Allotted to this uneschewable end, I am relieved knowing my fervent nostalgia of escape is being realized.

All this animosity must seem incredulous to you, the reader. For no doubt you are ensconced in your own perception of reality and are unwilling or unable to comprehend the immoralities of my society, the society which I am fervently escaping. Perhaps you cannot see. Perhaps you cannot understand me. Perhaps my precocious mind is an anathema, a foul trick played on me by a malevolent creator.

My destination is Ulthanck. For being in this primordial environment I have no other means of ascent than a quad-engine retrorocket with a one-person cockpit. In a vehicle of such antiquity, I can fly no further. I only plan a temporary sojourn on Ulthanck until I can procure a more space worthy vehicle.

Once Aronstar was frequented by travelers from Ulthanck, but they grew tired of the debased brothels which is all my uncongenial planet has to offer. Out of their lilting discourse concerning other worlds (that which travelers seem obliged to offer our mundane race of invalids) grew my nostalgia of escaping this humdrum planet of the Devil's issue.

The engine roars as the rocket blasts off. Success. Aronstar is falling behind me. Oh the joy of my escape. I can feel the ennui slothing off me like shedding skin. I have dreamed of this day for so long. I am finally fulfilling my dreams.

With temerity I fly, gazing poignantly at the resplendent and prodigious bans of iridescence pervading all of space and time. If any being could view my countenance, it would be of nothing ever shown on the hoary planet Aronstar. I can imagine the envy of my progenitors if they knew what palatial splendor lay ahead of me. Back home, others are preparing another estranging war, which I am surreptitiously escaping in my flight. I can't help but laugh in my own sardonic way knowing that I am escaping the humiliating nonexistence of death. A death which would be wrought by the weaponry the pious preachers employ to rid them of the detested vermin that lay across the boundaries of their municipality. "Kill in the name of God!" bellow the preachers standing on the balconies of brothels with their harlot wives and their bastard children.

Perhaps I am in flight in search of love. For sure there is no love left on Aronstar. Perhaps I am yearning for my soul to be fulfilled and escape the emptiness of my monotonous existence. For until then, I am in platonic love with the dream of leaving Aronstar and fulfilling my dreams of escape. I am not one but only embalmed with a moiety of the voluptuousness I am seeking, all stemming form fervent dreams and hopes of escaping this world. Soon I will be whole.

I sit alone in space pensively reflecting on my dreams of fulfillment. I am becoming entranced with a brooding trepidation that my instruments are no longer at my command. Despite my adroitness in controlling my craft, I have lost control. I know that I am significantly off course more than my now pseudodepigraphical instruments are allotting to.

I'm not sure where I'm heading. I don't think I even care. I'm losing touch with time. It is as if time and space are one. It is unexplainable. Reality is fast becoming an enigma. It is though life does not exist. Not that there is no life. More that the concept of life no longer has meaning. Everything is constant. Everything is constantly changing. Shape has lost its definition. Abstract concepts, visualized in space, seem to be moving through each other. I feel as if I am outside my craft although I am still sitting in my seat.

I seem to be having different thoughts occurring in my head at the same time. I feel myself as a child in my mother's arms and at the same time as a student in school. I can see and almost feel both memories at the same time. They seem to be intertwining through my cognition. In a sense, I am not aware of my feelings. I am no longer sure how I feel about my existence. Am I scared? I can't remember what it is like to be scared. I feel as if I am in a different world. A world existing in a different reality. A world of continuity. Things are constantly moving, never slowing down or speeding up. Things are becoming clouded. I feel I am sleeping.

I must have swooned. I awake to find that my surroundings have changed. I am no longer in my ship. I am lying on the grass in the middle of a green field, a quite verdant field of short, green grass with scattered patches of purple and yellow flowers. I have not seen such a beautiful landscape ever before. Only have I imagined such natural iridescence.

There are patches of tall, healthy trees scattered all about. Trees with thick, healthy trunks. Their branches are strong and their leaves are full. There is a strange fruit growing from the leaves. It is green and slender. By looking at it I can taste it. It is a taste I have never experienced before. I can taste the fruit. I can feel the emotions of the trees. I flow with the breeze through the grass. All fear has left me.

I wander, meandering through the trees and the grass. What is this place? How did I get here? My ship is no where in sight. It doesn't matter though. I don't feel like it matters. Nothing seems important now. Nothing, that is, as mundane as the reality my wretched race has ensconced itself in. Here, there is a new reality . . . new emotions and feelings . . . a true reality. All that was important to me is no longer of any significance. There is a new world here . . . new thoughts . . . thoughts that were beyond comprehension on Aronstar. On Aronstar there were principles, here there are none. There is no good or evil . . . no right or wrong . . . no war or peace . . . there is no need because there is no polarity, no ying and yang. Our reasoning was shallow, nonexistent compared with this. Here is a higher plane . . . above reason . . . above emotion . . . above even love. There are no opposing forces. I have searched, and I have found that which I seek.

I see a river, a stream of crystal blue. I walk into it. I am floating in the river. All is constant, never stopping. Ceasement of motion does not exist. Not in the stream. I feel the breeze blowing through my flaxen hair. I see the stars of other worlds, worlds that are the same. There is no other being. All is equal in the stars. There is no fluctuation in existence no bending in time. The water does not flow, it . . . there is no word to describe it. I exist on it, in it, and with it. The river runs on and on through fields of green and colored trees. It feels my presence, and it welcomes me.

I swoon but I am conscious. My thoughts are the thoughts of being. I realize that I am indigenous to all that surrounds me. I have always been here, but I am just now awakening to it. This perfect order is not tainted with subjectivity. All is the same with the thoughts and feelings of all matter that pervades existence. There is no need to understand because there is no contention, no discord, no doubt.

Out of the river is a castle. Its pinnacles extending far into the clouds above. It is indescribably beautiful. There is a clear pool surrounding the walls. I hesitate to call it a mote. In the pool is passion. An everlasting passion that exists for its own purpose. A passion not for anything imaginable on Ulthanck. Ulthanck is no more. It does not exist in this place. It does not matter. The memories are but just a dream now. I can't imagine ever wanting to go there.

Inside, the castle is a world all its own. Splendid tapestries fly from poles of silver. I cannot see the ceiling, though I'm sure it is ethereal. Clouds have ventured in through the open windows, high on the walls. There is a flight of golden steps far down the hall. I walk to the steps, a force guiding me. Atop the stairs sits a mighty throne. It is made of essence. It is the crown of existence, the tree of life.

As I sit, I wonder for the first time if I am in heaven. I don't know. Could it be that there is no heaven, at least in the sense I have always imagined it? I am not dead. Perhaps there is no death. Perhaps all I knew on Aronstar was not real. Am I such a neophyte? Do I not understand the meaning of this place?

Life is only imagined. We believe we are alive because that is what we are told. We cannot comprehend beyond life and death. But we exist beyond it. Emotion is the essence of all existence. It is the essence of all we are. Reason is dead. There is no reason because everything is true. Concepts such as honor, justice, and peace are gone. They are gone because in order for them to exist, there must also be villainy, tyranny, and war. These nefarious concepts have never penetrated the boundaries of this world, they have never existed here. In a sense, our eyes are opened. In another sense, they are closed to what we thought was real. Now we understand. We see why there is no right or wrong, no need for morality, and religion no longer burdens our minds. This is a world of paradoxes and conundrums for which there are no solutions.

Sitting on the steps I feel at ease. The wonder is fading. I am all. I have little time left. The force of my existence will add to the force of being. I am whole now. I was a part before. All my questions no longer require answers. I have no yearnings. What else is left? Only to be . . . to become a part of perpetual existence . . . to fuse with essence. I have escaped.

Bio:Mid 20's amateur writer living in Northern Virginia with wife and two-year-old son. Work for computer consulting company and trying to break into fiction writing.

E-mail:Cowalt@erols.com

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