Читать книгу Candlesight - Michael Liddy - Страница 2

Kensington, Melbourne, June 1974.

Jared could never quite understand why Sarah was so frightened. As he looked through the small grubby window towards the factory on the other side of the street, it didn’t fill him with any anxiousness at all. The dark, deeply shadowed three storey shoe factory was striking, yes, but not angry or malevolent. It wasn’t waiting to leap out and eat them as his sister was convinced it would.

He leaned over and stroked her hair. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” She continued to sob. “Shush, I’ll stay right here, but you don’t want Dad to come in.” Genuine foreboding touched his voice though he tried to keep it hidden from her.

She lifted her head slightly, the blanket still pulled down tightly over her head. “It’s going to get me.” Her voice quavered, and Jared’s heart leapt with compassion.

Leaning closer he met her eyes with calm resolve. “I’m staying right here. If it comes it has to get through me first.” He felt her hand reach for his and she burrowed deep into the covers. “But Sarah, it won’t happen, the warm light will come soon and everything will be ok.”

Between sobs, she choked out a few words. “How long?”

“Just a few minutes now.” It was at least half an hour away, but she didn’t have a watch and if it served to calm her then Jared thought the lie was worth it.

Looking out of the small bedroom window he could see the angry building framed against the dark night sky. The few dull street lights only increased the shadows of the factory's windows and made it look more menacing. It was the dead of winter and the deep mist that shrouded everything only heightened the sense of foreboding. It didn’t make him anxious though; the emotions he gleaned from it were more to do with sadness, a peculiar sensation that he couldn’t quite explain.

It was cold in their tiny bedroom and he shivered involuntarily, looking back at his bed longingly. Without releasing Sarah’s hand he reached backward for the quilt that draped down to the floor. He’d stay with her until she slept and if she was still awake at 10pm, he’d show her the tiny light as he always did, and tell the story he’d made up to calm her.

Jared wasn’t angry or annoyed with Sarah; he loved her, he empathised with her fear, and he could see how the building could make her feel that way. As he stared at the depths of the shadows and wondered what was in there, he missed the soft creaking of the floorboards. It was a tiny nuance he’d trained himself to hear, but this time it didn’t register.

The bedroom door sprung open and the figure of his father loomed over him. There was no empathy in the posture or bearing, only a vicious anger. Jared shrank back, startled. Though he wanted to dive away, he didn’t release his sister’s hand. Instead he did what he always did if he was caught out of bed, though the action terrified him; he lifted his head in mock defiance. That way he’d be the target of the man’s rage, not Sarah.

The voice, when it sounded, seared through Jared, rattling every fiber of his being. “What are you doing out of bed?” Though David’s voice was calm, almost sweet, the belt in his hand, folded in half, came down in a powerful stroke across Jared's shoulder. The sound was impossibly loud, crackling around the room, and a searing pain swept down Jared’s back. “Answer me, you little shit! How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from her?”

Retreating to that place deep inside where a tiny part of him felt protected, the rest of him faced the vicious rage of his father. He sobbed out a stammering reply, “I’m sorry, Dad, we were just talking. I was trying to be quiet.”

The booming voice bore into him relentlessly. “When I tell you to go bed, that’s what you do!”

Sweeping down, the hulking bear of a man grabbed Jared’s pajamas by the collar and threw him towards his bed. The buttons ripped and the boy struck the wall next to his bed before falling limply onto the narrow mattress. He was stunned and disoriented for a moment as wind was driven from his lungs. Though shocking, confronting, and horribly frightening, this wasn’t the first time he’d been attacked like this.

Though his neck seared with pain and his thoughts were muddled and chaotic, Jared quickly flipped over and dove under the covers, facing the wall. To have lain still or cowered once he landed only inflamed his father further and provoked more whips of the belt or worse. If he cried, the shouts of ‘cissy’ or ‘fag’ ensued and the blows went from coldly delivered to berserk. Jared had learned very early, via concussion and broken bones, what provoked the escalating tirades. Now, as he often did in these moments, he thought of his mother, those vaguely remembered images of an angel. The now blurred memories gave him a little more fortitude.

Then reality returned. Despite facing the basest and most vile of treatment there was no anger, rage or bitterness in the boy, and the reason for that was Sarah. Throughout his childhood, his father had been completely indifferent to her, ignoring her almost totally. His unrelenting, irrational anger and disdain was always on Jared. While that continued, while Sarah was safe, he could deal with everything else that was thrown at him. She loved him without question; she was his safe harbour in this horrible storm.

He lay very still, staring at the wall, but though there were no shadows or creaking of the floorboards, he knew his father was close. Next to him a alcohol laden voice whispered with silky venom. “If I hear you move in here again, I’ll beat you so can’t move, then I’ll tie you up to the clothesline and you can rot there all night.” There was a brief pause. “Do you understand me, boy?”

Without turning to face him, Jared replied quickly and solemnly, “Yes I do, Dad. I’m sorry.”

Again there was a pause, and at the sound of footfalls, Jared thought that his father was leaving. He risked a furtive look over his shoulder and saw with a sharp stab of fear that David was still lingering over him. Against the dim light cast by the hall light he saw movement, and his father seemed to swell in darkness towards him.

The open handed blow that hit him in the back of the head was shocking, not for the pain, but because this was new. Once Jared had quietly and dutifully acquiesced to his father’s demands that was always the end of the violence. Often there was another verbal threat as he departed, spat out through slurred words, but that was always it. The slap from the base of his father’s hand was hard enough to thrust Jared’s head deep into the pillow and cause his thoughts to swim unsteadily.

Genuinely stunned and terrified now, Jared had enough composure left to lie completely still. Next to him Sarah sobbed quietly, her ragged breath serving to focus his thoughts. With the most profound relief he heard the bedroom door slam shut and the sound of heavy footfalls retreated down the short corridor. Jared let his breathing relax and with enormous concentration he tried to reach past the sound of the deafening blow that still seemed to hammer through his mind.

Eventually he regained composure. Sarah’s sobs faded and he knew she’d drifted into sleep. It was then that he finally allowed his own feelings to swell up, and facing into the pillow he cried uncontrollably. Within the overwhelming emotions there was nothing for him to long for. There was a vague image of his mother long gone, but this was all the life he knew. The only good thing in his life was his sister, and for her he would endure.

Looking across the room, dimly lit by the streetlight outside, Jared stared at her narrow cot, relieved that she hadn’t been exposed to this new violence. He felt sick though; a terror that engulfed him and no matter where he tried to place his thoughts it would not be quelled.

As the fear continued to swell within him he couldn’t lie still. His eyes were drawn to the bedroom door and through the murky darkness it seem to swell and open repeatedly. Risking the wrath of his father, he rolled out of bed and backed up to the window. If his father came back, he’d drop to his knees. At least then he’d know when the blow would hit.

Minutes passed and no movement disrupted his frantic vigil. The door kept seeming to open without moving and the sweat beaded on the back of his neck, giving him a chill sensation down his back. Slowly, inexorably, his heart began to settle and with spectrally thin fingers, shards of calm began to creep through him. Jared allowed himself to take deeper, calming breaths.

He knew, without knowing exactly how, that his light had come. It came every night at the same time, at half past ten, and for a little over an hour it would remain. Spinning around, Jared scanned the enormous factory shrouded in mist and though the hazy layers he caught sight of the bobbing illumination. He couldn’t explain why it made him feel so safe, but it did. That tiny light, a speck three quarters of the way up the forbidding building, always washed away whatever sadness or fear that engulfed him, and filled him instead with hope. Perhaps it was the metaphor, perhaps it was that it returned every single night; whatever it was, Jared felt an enormous affinity.

Within him there was resolution, and a giddy excitement welled. Tonight he would try and reach it. He pictured himself going through the hole in the wire fence that he and his friend had found, down the side alley to the factory. But this time, rather than just peeking in through the broken window surrounded by ivy, he’d go in.

That excitement was a respite, a freedom from the sickening fear he’d experienced that night, and while he was afraid of the night, nothing could compare to the terror he felt for his own home. Looking around him the walls seemed to close in and the ceiling press towards him. Inexorably he seemed to be sucked towards the lounge room and the vicious anger of his father.

Were he more mature, Jared would have forced his thoughts elsewhere, but he was a child, and the fear simply spiralled until he felt he’d scream. Calling out would bring a far darker terror upon him and instead he bit down on his tongue. Steeling his thoughts he looked down at the sleeping form of Sarah and then he moved forward.

Pulling on his slippers and wrapping himself in his woollen dressing gown, Jared judged himself ready. On second appraisal he realized the slippers were wholly inadequate and dropping down he retrieved from under the bed the socks and shoes he’d been wearing earlier. It took only a moment to put them on, and pulling the sash around his waist tight and tying it into a bow he edged towards the bedroom door.

The repeated episodes of malicious anger had taught him one thing; his father, consumed by alcohol, was always close to passing out when he lurched down the corridor to their bedroom. Jared slowly opened the bedroom door, almost certain that he’d see an unconscious form draped over the rickety couch.

As it silently swung open he saw exactly what he expected. The small black and white television flickered , casting an eerie collection of shapes over the walls and ceiling, partially obscured by the bulk of his father’s form slouched backward over the shallow arm of the couch. His head was tilted back and his mouth was open; there could be no doubt that he was in a deep slumber.

While he felt more safe, there remained a sense of excitement and expectation in Jared’s thoughts. So used to a pervading and oppressive doom, this was an emotion he’d not easily give up on. Beyond his fatigue there was a wellspring of energy that fuelled him now and gave confidence. He turned resolutely towards the front door and deftly unlocked it. This time there was a high pitched squeal as it opened and a gush of freezing air surged around him. There was only a momentary pang of anxiousness; the drone of the television and the heat of the oil burner would adequately mask Jared's actions.

Feeling for the keys on the hook next to the door, Jared lifted them and then paused for a moment as the cool metal pressed against his fingers, thinking about what he was about to do. Light. Dropping down to his knees, he gently eased the hall cupboard open. By the dull light filtering through the front door Jared caught sight of the long aluminum torch and carefully lifted it over the clutter in front.

Taking a deep breath Jared turned and stepped through the front door, closing it behind him. Outside, the night was perfectly still, and Jared stood on the front step, watching. There was no movement anywhere, even the distant sound of traffic was somehow a perfectly level drone that disturbed nothing. The fog hung in a heavy blanket a meter or so above the ground, like a solid threatening mass of spider’s web. It obscured everything beyond the narrow garden in a blurring shroud.

The chill air caught in his lungs and for a moment Jared doubted his course of action; everything seemed suddenly so forbidding, so impossible, and he was so weak and pathetic. Looking up he searched for the beckoning light; its tiny but reassuring glow was barely perceptible through the thick blanket of fog. He stood immobile for long moments before a brief calm swept over him, and forcing all thoughts from his mind the first step was taken along the narrow bricked path of their overgrown sliver of a garden.

Jared ignored the mounting fear and just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He passed the rusted-open front gate of their house, the concrete footpath and then crossed the asphalt road. Standing still for a moment in front of the enormous bluestone building, he felt completely exposed and insignificant, but terror did not grip him. Within him there was a fatalistic resolve, and the icy fingers of anxiousness slid straight through.

Hunching over and thrusting his hands deep within his dressing gown pockets to ward off the bitter cold, Jared paced carefully along the footpath. The background buzz of the city was strangely calming, as if he wasn’t the only person in this cold, hard place. While the street lights gave almost no illumination, in the distance, over the dark and jagged silhouette of the lines of houses there was a soft glow, suggesting busy activity.

Taking a deep breath, Jared stopped at the corner of the factory and looked upward. Only the barest glint on the face of a brick suggested the presence of the dancing light he was pursuing. As he looked back along the street he realised that excluding the row of narrow terrace houses adjacent theirs, it would be very difficult to see the light at all, even on a perfectly clear night.

It wasn’t difficult for him to slip through the narrow fence at the side of the factory. Down that long, imposingly narrow canyon that separated it from the brick warehouse next door, was a narrow alley less than half a metre in width. At the footpath on which he now stood there was a piece of mesh and two posts blocking access, but the movement of both buildings had meant the wire had separated and Jared pulled it aside easily.

He knew another moment of anxiousness as he squeezed past the post and stood slowly upright. Jared and his closest (only) friend Tony had dared each other to come in here on a sunny Saturday morning, and even then the imposing walls had seemed to lean in on them. They’d only come in a few metres, up to the line of broken windows that could only be seen from within the canyon, before panicking and scampering back out. The wind whistling down the man-made crevice, howling around them and seeming to come from the maw of the building and through glass teeth, was too overpowering and menacing for their young imaginations.

It was too dark to see anything now and Jared turned on the torch. Everything was perfectly still and the strong beam illuminated a thick swathe of mist around him. He pointed it to his right at the base of the grimy wall and there, some twenty metres distant, was the row of small windows. They seemed tiny to him now, although it was only just over a year since he and Tony had slunk in here.

Coming up to the low run of openings, he could see they were all broken, angry shards of glass remaining in place. It occurred to him that someone must have come down here and kicked them all in because there was no sign of glass on the path in front of him. Judging from the precariously leaning wall of the adjacent building that just above his head height angled sharply over to touch the bluestone factory, it was probably another child. This was simply too narrow and confined a space for adults to traverse.

At the windows now, Jared crouched down at the side of the first and tentatively dipped the torch to shine inside the room beyond. It was a small store room, unfurnished but for a long, low bench against the outer wall. There was little in terms of other objects within the space, just a broken stool and sporadic rubbish cast haphazardly around the room. Lifting the beam to inspect the inner wall, Jared couldn’t immediately see any way out. It was only as he then scanned the end walls that he saw a narrow door to his left.

Carefully placing the torch on the ledge of the window just inside the building, Jared pushed a few of the jagged shards aside from the middle pane. Pulling his dressing gown up so it wouldn’t catch, he gingerly extended his leg through, reaching blindly down to the bench up against the wall. For a moment his foot found no purchase, but just as he was about to pull back again his shoe reached the heavy timber bench.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Jared maneuvered his body through the narrow window, retrieved the torch and crouched down. Everything was musty, still and eerily silent. He was doing something wrong, something dangerous, but no screaming retribution came to claim him. He slowly came to realise that nothing was going to happen. With tentative movements, Jared slid off the grimy bench and edged towards the closed door to the left. Examining the handle, he tested it and was equal parts relieved and horrified when it released the door with only minor protest.

There was a bench similar to the one he’d just climbed down from blocking the other side of the door. Above the workspace he realized he was staring at the back of a tool pegboard that must have extended along the wall containing the door. Below there was a collection of heavy looking metal tools and debris; a junk pile of ancient machinery.

After regarding the scene for a moment, his attention finally lowered to a gap in the piles of junk below the bench that appeared to be stacks of paint cans and tins of other descriptions. Jared hunched closer and waved the torch around in small circles, able to just see glimpses past the clutter and into the room beyond.

There was a sense now, as his thoughts turned towards what to do next, that he was moving deeper into a monster’s lair. Would he remember how to get out? Would he get locked within this abyss? As he proceeded further inward would the lurking beasts finally come for him? But nothing here could match what he was used to, and part of him wanted them to come for him.

He placed the torch down on the dusty floor and began to remove the stacked cans from the left hand side of the doorway entrance. It only took a few seconds to clear a path large enough for him to pass through and lifting the torch again he cautiously wriggled through the gap.

The room beyond was only marginally more regularly frequented that the one he’d left. There was much more clutter, tools and machinery scattered around the small room, but the amount of dust and the stale quality to the air suggested it was a sporadically used workshop. Each wall was covered in hooks and boards with as many tools in place as obviously absent. To his right there was another door, this one with an exposed locking mechanism that could be accessed from the inside.

Taking a moment to absorb the room and its details, Jared finally crept up to the door and examined it more carefully. It was a simple lock, and clicking the small dimple upward, he quietly turned the knob. The clicking as the door popped free of the latch was impossibly loud and Jared’s heart pounded heavily in his ears. Again he expected voices and movement to uncover him, but again he remained in complete silence.

Opening the door a crack, he peered tentatively out into the darkness beyond. There was no light whatsoever, and, satisfied that there was nobody around, Jared moved out into the corridor and quickly scanned around him. To his left the corridor was extremely long, perhaps fifty metres, and seemed to turn to the right at the very limits of his torch’s strength. Along the left hand wall there were doors dotted sporadically along its length. Turning around revealed uninterrupted walls on both sides terminating in a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor a short distance from where he stood. In coming through the smaller rooms he’d become slightly disoriented, but by his estimation, the room beyond those doors must be close to the corner of the building. The mysterious light should be directly above.

Fear was starting to wane within him. He’d been in this total darkness for over ten minutes now and nothing untoward had happened. As he walked towards the large doors, his steps were a little less timid. One of the doors was slightly ajar, and Jared pushed it further open. With a dull and deep grinding sound, the heavy timber structure swung reluctantly inward.

The space beyond was some sort of storage room, a mass of boxes, racks large machinery, furniture, tools, scrap metal, and old stock in unopened boxes. There was a generation or more of forgotten debris filling every inch of space save a few narrow access ways.

Jared lifted the torch's beam upward to the five metre high ceiling and realised there wouldn’t be an immediate answer to his question about the light. The grubby and aged ceiling was cracked, sunken and in spots, collapsing, but as he played the light over it, Jared saw a small but significant hole, one he thought he could fit through.

Tracing outward he tried to identify a route up. He wasn't afraid of heights or climbing the rickety storage racks. Jared’s only mild concern was the stability of the metal structures and ancient wood, but given the amount of junk piled up on them, he had little real fear.

The hardest part was getting through the masses of rubbish packed tightly on the floor. He’ negotiated the worst of it with only a few noisy stumbles. Once he began to climb up the cold and rusty metal rack next to the platform, the lessening clutter made it very much easier. Step after careful step he pulled himself upward and made it up to the level of the broad deck with relative ease, stepping out onto the platform.

The broad timber ledge extended along the entire length of the room and just beyond where he was standing, almost directly beneath the hole, were a series of small timber crates. He only needed to lift one or two of them on top of the ones at the end and he’d be able to look through the opening.

As he pushed the last of the pines boxes directly underneath the dark opening, Jared allowed himself a moment to wonder how he’d found the courage to come this far. He felt strong and somehow less defeated than he had before crawling out of bed. There was still a huge weight of self hatred and doubt, but beyond his devotion to his sister there was now the tiniest spark of a new self reliance.

With a deep breath he mounted the highest of the boxes and found himself kneeling at the height of the ceiling. Looking along its undulating expanse, dimly lit from the cracks of light around the edges of the rickety timber doors next to him, Jared felt the first twinges of height anxiety. Glancing down to the dim floor below he realized he was over five metres above the floor and were he to fall it would lead to enormous injury, or worse.

“I want to see.” The words were little more than a whisper and, steeling himself, Jared lifted the torch above him and slowly stood up.

It took a moment for him to understand what he was looking at. The high ceiling space was a chaotic mass of diagonal timber rafters, mottled corrugated iron, and lace like cobwebs. He couldn’t tell how far it extended to his left, the narrow beam of light efficiently stopped by the lace of a hundred years of spiders' work. Despite their best endeavors though, Jared was able to see at least twenty metres into the distance and was awed by the enormous size of the building. The forest of timber and metal was heroic and strangely lonely.

Once the awe abated a little, he returned his stare to directly in front of him and was confused. Finally he realised why the scene wasn’t exactly what he expected. Instead of a blank wall in front of him, the perimeter wall of the factory, there was a rough brick wall just in front of him that extended just beyond the ceiling line. Beyond that there was another bay which meant there was another series of rooms beneath. Judging by the thickness of the cobwebs, the wall opposite his house was still some distance away. As he pulled himself upward with the torch in his mouth and felt the ages of dust beneath his fingers, he wondered if anyone had come in here since the building was completed.

The plasterboard had fallen away at a large timber beam and it was easy for Jared to pull himself up into the roof space. With a minimum of effort he was able to shimmy along to the internal bearing wall, though at that point he gave up all hope of remaining moderately clean. Forearms, shins, calves and shoulders were all needed to negotiate the path to the lower wall and all became immediately smothered in the grimy dust, layered over with equally dirty cobwebs.

Holding the torch in his left hand he was able to crawl along the brickwork, although the rough surface of unfinished mortar cut into his knees and hands. Negotiating the massive trusses was relatively easy, a diagonal piece of timber sprung from the wall and up to his left, providing an easy support and leverage to get past.

Jared traversed six of these trusses before, with growing excitement, he finally sighted the front wall beyond the layered shrouds of cobwebs. Shouldering his way past the last freestanding truss, he saw that there was another one resting directly against the front wall of the building. Where the light should be. There was no apparent answer to the riddle. It must just be something mundane inside the wall. Perhaps it was the last functioning globe of a series that used to be all over the building, or maybe it wasn’t a light at all, but rather some exhaust relief for one of the factory’s machines. None of these were very exciting to him, and suddenly he felt exhausted.

It was only as Jared stared absently at the last truss that he realised the shadows further along meant that it was positioned clear of the wall. Staring at the corner of the building where there were no such shadows, he finally understood that there was a small pier built out corner of the building. Crawling closer he was able to come right up next to the pier, which was no more than half a metre in length and depth. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy and didn’t give any hints as to what the light was.

Jared sat still for a moment before he made ready to turn back. He was disappointed not to have found the light, but revelled in the thought that he’d done something hard, forbidding, something that would scare most children. Where he was usually the most timid about doing anything he hadn’t been specifically told to do, now he’d done something brave. Though he’d met with no success, he’d travelled as far as he could.

As he sat quietly in that moment of reflection, a sound finally registered to his consciousness. As faint as the hum of a distant transformer, he thought it was nothing of importance. Concentrating on it for that instant revealed that there was another, more confounding sound within it. Singing. Harmonious, flowing tones melted almost imperceptibly together to form a music not unlike the sound of wind whipping through tall grasses. There was structure here though, something that was repeated.

Excitement welling, Jared leaned closer to the brick pier and pressed his ear to the cold surface. Perhaps he was imagining things, but he was sure the noise was just a little louder. Bringing the torch to the wall, Jared looked for some way to see what might be beyond. Testing the mortar with his fingernails showed that it was crumbling, but there was no easy way to pull the bricks out. Lifting the beam upward revealed that just below the corrugated iron there was a jagged and broken top to the pier, as it had been either knocked out or roughly finished to allow the iron to be laid over the top.

Propping the torch at an angle to illuminate the top of the brickwork, Jared carefully stood up and felt along the top course, testing. Carefully he pressed his weight against one half brick and was shocked when it snapped and came free in his hand. Overbalancing slightly, he snatched his weight back quickly and almost slid from the narrow ledge. His heart pounding, Jared took a minute to settle his nerves and then laid the brick behind him carefully. There were now two more bricks partially exposed and pressing his weight upward this time he was less vulnerable as they came free.

Within a few minutes he’d cleared a small opening. Edging close again, at first he heard nothing, and then after long moments the delicate singing came to his ears again. His hands shaking, Jared rose up again and tentatively peered over the edge of the pier.

It was indeed hollow, an inky black abyss within centimeters of his face. The sound was definitely more distinct, though still only barely perceptible. Brining his right hand up he was able to wiggle through the narrow slit next to him and bring the torch to bear on the dark tunnel. What he saw confused him as much as the ceiling space when he’d first looked into it, something he hadn’t expected and couldn’t quite rationalise.

Though he was at the top of the building he couldn’t have been more than five metres from the ground. Shining the torch onto the sides of the vertical shaft, Jared was sure the beam reached the extend of its reach at least fifteen or twenty metres below, and still there was no sign of having reached the bottom. The only way that could be right was if the shaft dropped well below ground level.

There was also something very strange about the inside face of the chute. Just below him the regular shapes of the bricks gave way to a band of something dark and metallic that projected out forming another ledge. Detailed patterns were incised deeply into the surface, and a confusing array of shallow projections extended outward. It didn’t appeared to be masonry or a render either, more as if the bricks had been changed and bonded in some way.

While he stared at the relief and the murky depths beyond, scanning what he could of the narrow chasm, he didn’t notice the second pinpoint of light when it appeared. At first it was completely obscured by the illumination of the torch's bobbing beam as he sporadically scanned different sections of the chute. His attention was further diverted for a moment as he caught sight of the small circular opening that seemed to head towards the front of the building. Only two metres below where he leaned in, surely that had to be roughly where the light he could see from his bedroom window was coming from.

He froze. There was something wrong. It was only then that Jared's eyes dropped to the depths of the chute and he finally noticed the small blue and green tendrils that extended outwards in sweeping waves. It was a light that no clumsy man-made lamp could produce. Startled, he snatched his arm back through the opening, and continued to stare, mesmerized. Less than ten metres below him now, he could see a mist of billowing specks of illumination that formed a spherical cloud coming from a molten amorphous centre.

Jared had no idea what the thing of light was. He’d never seen, heard of, or read about anything like it. He wondered if it was alive. Or was it some sort of machine? Its bobbing motion suggested concentration; it had to be alive. And there could be no doubt that it was moving towards him.

The boy instinctively shrank away, his heart pounding. He scuttled back along the brick ledge until his back came up against the side of the next truss and fumbling uneasily, he turned the torch off. For brief seconds all was completely dark and he wondered if he’d imagined the strange spectacle. With a sense of chill foreboding he saw the first touches of a liquid light caressing the underside of the metal roof, and the most gentle of shadows coursing around him. But it came no further.

It took a long time for Jared to ease his breathing and for shaking limbs to find some semblance of control. Mesmerised he stared at the slowly swirling patterns of light that danced over the corrugated iron, every color and no color at the same time, almost beyond his ability to comprehend.

Very slowly calm returned to his thoughts and the excitement he’d felt at several points of this most bizarre night welled up within him. Adrenalin surged as he made ready to stand up and go over to the shaft again. No matter what would happen now, be it an end or a beginning, he would face it.

Shakily Jared rolled forward onto his knees and with jagged motions approached the pier again. Half expecting something to launch at him he kept his eyes on the opening he’d fashioned. Nothing came for him though. The soft dance continued on the metal roof, and whatever it was stayed deep down within the brick chute.

Steeling his nerves, Jared took the last step to the pier and uneasily raised himself towards the jagged opening he’d just fashioned. Still there was no rush of motion. If the thing, whatever it was, had wanted to escape or come for him it had had ample opportunity. Plus he couldn’t see how it could be possibly be aggressive or dangerous; it was light. Excitement swept up through him, the edges of a childish emotion that had been absent most of his short life.

Reaching up, he placed his hands on the cold bricks and drew his eyes closer to the lip of the opening. His mouth dropped open in slack jawed wonder as he beheld the sight before him. Where before there had been one of the dazzling objects, now there were many, holding position deep within the chasm. The rhythmic singing around him became louder and more chaotic. In a slow dance they swept up a little higher in the chute, still remaining far below, languidly moving around each other as they rose.

The extraordinary spectacle continued and time seemed frozen. Eventually though all of the lights slowly dropped away and finally only the first one Jared had seen remained. Shuddering back into focus, he took a deep halting breath and as the creature held position he was able to absorb the detail of its remarkable presence. His eyes darted from the hot white core to the collections of pinprick lights that coalesced outward.

He had no idea what he was looking at.

There was something expectant in the one that remained, as if it waited. Without thinking of the dangers, without any fear at all, Jared slowly wiggled his hand through the gap and in a moment of unfamiliar calm, extended it below the metal ledge toward the hypnotic light. As his cold and grimy fingers were washed in the bubbling light, the singing around him escalated to a crescendo, and the light floated towards his hand.

Completely captivated, Jared had no idea what was about to happen. It was clear to him though that the spectral creature was trying to reach him in some way. The outer mist closed the last centimetres to his outstretched fingers, the melodic chorus around him becoming as insistent as his heart beat. Then he gasped as the oppressive darkness of the chute faded abruptly from his sight and was replaced with the glinting lustre of late afternoon sunlight on calm ocean waters. For one of the first times in his life he felt a consuming sensation of wonder.