Christopher Nightshade

The young boy was kicked out of the door and fell to his face on the soil. He let out a deep breath, then gathered himself to his feet. From within the wooden cabin, a bucket was thrown, nearly hitting the boy. A strained voice yelled, “Fetch more water, boy! And stop talking about those silly stories. They’re nothing but fairy tales”. Then, the door slammed shut.

Christopher Nightshade walked toward the bucket and picked it up. He sighed as he touched its dent. Up until recently, he was living a simple, yet joyous life with loving parents. However, that has sadly changed. All he has now is his father, but he can’t speak with him. His father has been consumed by sorrow ever since his wife’s passing. All of his joy died with her.

As long as he could remember, Christopher has always been enamored by stories of people facing the impossible. From encounters with nymphs to knights battling dragons, his parents instilled such tales within him. Every night, they would read stories to him before bed, but not anymore. His father became silent and his silence would only be broken by sudden fits of sadness, usually due to his late wife. Sometimes, however, his fits would be caused by Christopher recounting one of the stories to cheer him up. They were too reminiscent of a past gone forever.

He needs these stories as much as I do, the boy thought. They’re true.

“I used to believe that those stories consisted of representations. I even sought to experience such events myself. Now, I realize that they speak of exaggerated adventures. Nothing more. They aren’t real and are meaningless”, his father once said.

They’re true to me. But, maybe, I should forget about them. Father might be right. They might be too fantastic to be true.

He frowned as he looked upon the cabin. His mind was whirling. His eyes began to water. Oh, water. I almost forgot. So, he dusted off his ragged clothes, turned around, and walked to the well. It was completely dried up. He wondered what to do for a moment until he remembered the nearby lake. It was very pristine and clean. He decided to head there. It would be a nice spot to clear his head.

The colors of the forest were somber and lacked vibrancy. The greens of the leaves, grass, and bushes were washed out. The birds didn’t chirp. When he was younger, he remembered the trees singing as much as the birds did, but the forest was quiet now. Christopher Nightshade walked the path in silence. After a long and quiet walk, he finally reached the lake. He stopped before the lake and dropped the bucket to the ground. The water was clear. He watched the swimming fish. Back then, they’d remind him of his favorite tales. They’re just meaningless fantasies. Now, his mind only focused on the sediment through his reflection. Nothing beyond that. He crouched down and sighed as he closed his eyes for a moment. Then, he cupped his hands together and took a sip of the water. It cooled his senses down a little. While he drank, his eyes followed the stream leading away from the lake.

A flash of light followed by a rumble rocked the woods. Christopher felt his body shake from the aftereffect. The lake’s stream led to the source of the rumbling’s echo. Overpowering his sense of fear was a feeling of curiosity and excitement. He looked at the bucket, then at the greater forest. A big smile adorned his face as he jumped to his feet. As soon as he took one step forward, he heard a subtle swoosh of water. Walking through the lake was a woman dressed in a white dress. Her dress floated on the surface of the water with a long train behind her. Her hair was as long as her gown’s train. She graciously moved toward the boy. Her steps yielded no splashes. Her skin glowed. She had an ethereal aura about her.

“What is your name”? She asked in an echoed, high pitched voice.

The boy was stunned by her overstimulating beauty. His body was frozen. Struggling to open his mouth, he failed to speak.

“I am the Lady of the Lake”, she said as she sat down next to him. Her vocal tone was soothing. “What are you doing out here all alone”?

Do I know her? Not from a story, but from memory? The boy swallowed a big gulp. “My name is Christopher Nightshade and I… I came to gather water”.

“You are not going to go deeper into the woods are you”?

Can she peer into my thoughts? “I would like to”.

She shook her head. “You should not travel any further. Beyond this lake lies the battleground between light and dark. Between imaginal truth and perceived truth. It is very dangerous”.

What is she talking about? This forest has always been safe. Predators pass in peace. The only sights of blood the boy ever saw were his own minor injuries in the past. The thought of danger excited him even more. His mind drifted to his beloved stories. Am I about to have my own adventure?

“You are at a mental crossroads. Your sense of truth is torn between sides instead of striking a balance. You must find balance to survive the encounter”.

“I will be fine. What will I see at the battleground”?

“Whatever your mind is capable of believing. I cannot see what you can”.

“I have lived here my entire life, yet I have never seen you before. What are you?” Christopher asked, noting her glowing skin.

“A friend”, she said as she caressed the boy’s head. Then, she stood up. “It appears to be time for the both of us to move on for now. Be careful and heed my words”.

“Don’t go. You should join me”.

“I will never leave you. Not when my loved ones need me”. Then, she waded through the lake once again.

“Somehow, you seem familiar”.

“Of course I seem familiar”, the Lady of the Lake said with a smirk and wink.

Christopher Nightshade rose to his feet with a grin. He felt warm. All he could think of was the thought of adventure. He began to follow the stream in the direction of the echo, but looked behind one last time. The Lady of the Lake was gone. Of course I seem familiar? He thought to himself. Then, he continued forward.

With each step, his surroundings grew more dire. The forest was seemingly devoid of life. The plants were either dead or dying. Leaves were scattered across the ground and flew with the wind. The boy shivered through the chilled air. He had second thoughts about continuing. Fear overcame his curiosity and excitement, yet he kept walking nonetheless until he finally reached the end of the stream. His body froze to a halt at the sight. There was no sound except for his own heartbeat and breathing.

Within a clearing stood a grand, glowing tree, a knight whose dented and chipped armor was the color of a rainbow, and a black wyrm standing tall. Is this real? The Rainbow Knight breathed deeply as he knelt on the dirt. The colors of his once vivid armor were dreary. His blade was shattered with the pieces shining on the soil. The Wyrm slithered toward him, brandishing fangs white as chalk, while its black scales were dark as oil. The glowing tree dimmed. The air was cold and the time of day became night in an instant.

Before the Wyrm could defeat the knight, it stopped and turned to face the boy. Its vertical-slit eyes pierced like poison. An intoxicating feeling engulfed the boy. He almost lost his balance due to dizziness. His head ached from too much pressure. An outside force was entering his mind, or so it felt. His eyes began to water and his nose was runny.

“A visitor? On the eve of my final victory? What is your name?” the serpent hissed without ever opening its mouth. The words echoed within the boy's mind.

“Christopher Nightshade”, the boy responded. He didn’t want to speak, but he felt compelled to do so.

“I can feel your emotions and thoughts. You have lost something precious and it is changing you, yet you fight it”.

“What are you? What is happening”?

The Wyrm faced the Rainbow Knight. “He defends what little he has left of imaginal truth, while I fight for perceived truth. People are turning their backs upon the stories and beliefs of their forefathers because they have come to the realization that they are nothing but fantastical. When one weeps, the supernatural does not wipe away their tears. When one is ill, their malady is not magically cured. People have given truth through observation more precedence over simple prayer or reflection. I applaud them for this. I have become stronger because of this. And that archaic fool shall perish”.

The Rainbow Knight turned to Christopher who immediately fell to his knees and held his head. The aching pressure was immense, yet the intoxication did diminish slightly.

“Every day and night, we battle. The outcomes used to be that of a draw. However, I have lost many times as of recent”, the Rainbow Knight whispered within the boy’s mind. “What that fiend says is true. People choose to forsake themselves rather than believe omens. They think that divine intervention is absurd because it cannot be proven by physical means. I have become too weak to ever defeat that serpent, but I shall never stop fighting for the truth from beyond”, he said as he struggled to stand.

In unison, both combatants said, “Choose the right truth so I may defeat my foe”.

Christopher Nightshade closed his eyes. He felt as if he would faint. He breathed deeply. Balance. I must find balance, he thought, remembering the words of the Lady of the Lake. He stood up and walked toward the faintly glowing tree standing between the two fighters. He touched it and said, “I choose you over all else. Thank you”. The tree began to glow blindingly bright and the ground began to rumble.

“No!” the combatants yelled as they battled once more.

Christopher Nightshade opened his eyes to the lake before him. He was in the middle of watching the swimming fish and the sediment beneath them. He looked about himself. There was no Lady, no tree, no Rainbow Knight, and no Wyrm. He was alone. The plants were vibrant and it was daytime. The birds chirped and he heard the trees sing. He smiled, even though his head still throbbed slightly. He took another sip of water, then filled his bucket. Then, he stood up and strolled along the path back home. Balance, he thought. “I’m coming home, father. I have a new story to tell you and it’s true, just like the others”.