The Abyss Also Gazes

He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

- Friedrich Nietzsche

The first time I saw her I almost didn't notice her. 

I was running late for my very first business acquisition merger meeting and if I missed the bus I would miss it entirely. My career was riding on this merger, so I did what any sensible person would do: I took off my pumps and ran to the bus stop. 

The bus was already at the stop when I arrived, puffing and panting, my blouse, blazer, and skirt now likely slick with sweat. She was standing at the bus stop, her dirty rags looking out of place next to the rubbed iron bench at the stop. She made no move to board the bus. I assumed she was homeless, although I thought it strange that she carried no cardboard sign. 

She was watching me from beneath her wide-rimmed leather hat, so I gave her a polite nod before boarding the bus.

The second time I saw her was nearly a week later at the grocery store. She stood alone in the produce section next to the onions. I didn't recognize her at first, but was struck with the memory of the bus stop when I caught her looking at me. She was dressed much the same as the week before, wearing a tattered leather cloak, the leather hat, and ragged clothing so dirty you couldn't tell if brown was the original color. A spotted owl perched on her hat, occasionally lifting its feet and fluttering its wings. Her stringy hair hung down her front in greasy clumps of brown with faded blue dye. 

But it wasn't her appearance that unsettled me the most. As I stole glances of her while gathering Fuji and Gala apples into plastic bags, I realized that no one else seemed to notice her. Not once did a passing shopper give her--or her owl--a strange look. 

It wasn't until the third time I saw her that I realized she was following me. 

I was at the park practicing my early morning tai chi. The air was crisp and cool; the cold grass chilling my bare feet as I went through my routine. I was about halfway through my first set when I saw her standing next to a picnic table, her expression calm and stoic as she watched me. I stiffened at the sight of her, but I continued my routine, pretending not to notice. She made no move to approach me, seemingly content to simply watch me. 

Finally, I could no longer bear her unwavering scrutiny. I dropped form in the middle of my second set, turned on my heels, and approached her. 

"Is there something you want to say to me?" I asked, my attempt at civility sounding strained. 

Her curious, cool eyes regarded me. "Come with me," she said, holding her hand out to me. 

I stared at her hand, making no move to accept it. "You're kidding, right?" 

"I'm completely serious," she said. By the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes, I could believe it. But that didn't mean that I trusted her. 

"You've been stalking me for the last week and a half, and the first thing you say to me is 'come with me'?" I placed my hands on my hips and glared at her. "Do you not see the problem here?" 

She dropped her hand. "I see I have made an error in judgement. I was hoping you would remember me." 

I blinked. "What?" 

There was a screech and a flapping of wings as the owl came out of the trees and perched on top of her hat. She glanced up at the owl. "I wish I had time to prove my trustworthiness, but I don't." She held her hand out to me again. "We must go. You are in danger." 

My eyebrows shot up. I looked around the pristine early-morning atmosphere of the park. A lone female jogger was making her way down the path, just barely within shouting distance. A light fog swirled around, bending the light from the rising sun. A few leaves fell from the trees, floating down before settling on the ground. 

"I'm in danger?" I asked. "From what?" 

Before she could reply, an ear-splitting screech sliced through the silence. It sounded big, predatory, and terrifying. 

The owl gave its own screech and fluttered its wings before taking off. 

The girl thrust her hand toward me. "We must go!" she yelled over the horrific noise. 

Still,  I hesitated. I looked over at the jogger, who had gotten closer. Either she was deaf, or she couldn't hear the sound in the same way that no one else could see the girl, because she continued jogging along as if nothing was amiss. 

The unholy screeching got louder and even more unbearable. I made a split-second decision and grabbed her outstretched hand. She looked up at the owl. "Now, Astral!" 

The owl dove in front of us and swooped in low to make a tight turn until it was behind us. The horrific screeching stopped abruptly, and, just as suddenly, we were no longer in the park. 

The girl released my hand and I was overcome with dizziness. I sat down on the cold, hard ground and placed my head between my knees, subconsciously noticing that I had left my shoes behind at the park. 

"Are you all right?" the girl asked, crouching down next to me. 

"Just a bit dizzy," I mumbled. 

"Well, we can't stay here long," she said. "We may have gotten away, but we're still not completely safe."

I took a few deep, measured breaths, trying to quell the rising nausea. After a few disorienting moments, the dizziness subsided, leaving me mildly light-headed and nauseous but otherwise okay. 

"I think I can walk now," I said, slowly raising my head. 

Her eyes were grave as she once again held out her hand. I took it without argument; she helped me up and led me to a small group of trees. 

She stopped, as if remembering something. She turned to me, and in the stillness of the moment I couldn't help noticing that she smelled of petrichor, soil, and garden vegetables. 

I was so taken by her unusually earthy smell that I almost missed her words. "A word of caution," she said. "We will be passing through a place that is neither here nor there, an in-between place. While we pass through, you must not stare into the abyss, or you will be swallowed whole." 

I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily. "So you're saying Nietzsche wasn't just being metaphorical?" 

Her blank stare at my comment made me feel like a schoolgirl who had tried to crack a joke in the middle of a lesson about the holocaust. I sighed. "Never mind."

She regarded me for a brief moment before turning and leading me between two twisted, peeling trees. As we passed between them, my body was abruptly stretched like taffy. Right before I thought I would be torn in half, my body snapped back into shape, leaving me reeling and disoriented. 

I had no time to process what had happened before the girl was pulling me along behind her. We padded through thick, tangible darkness that prickled my skin and weighed down my chest. It was so tangible I felt like I was breathing in black wool that clogged my airway and expanded inside my lungs. I could still breathe just fine, but the sensation disturbed me and I found myself coughing out of reflex. 

Then it was gone and we were walking through a great expanse that stretched out into oblivion. My bare feet touched nothing, yet my stride was steady and my footing solid. Little lights glimmered thousands of miles beneath me. I almost stared before I remembered her warning. I screwed my eyes shut, concentrating on her hand in mine as she led the way. 

"We're almost there," she said, her voice getting swallowed up in the vastness around us. 

The urge to open my eyes and take another look was almost unbearable. I placed my free hand over my eyes, grit my teeth, and resisted the impulse with all my willpower. 

I half expected our exit to be as physically distorting as our entrance and geared myself up for the experience. I was surprised instead to feel myself swallowed up by something cool and clammy. I was pulled through what felt like a sea of Jell-O, the substance around me making a shlucking noise as I passed through. I again had no problem breathing and soon popped out of the gel. 

"You can open your eyes now," the girl said. "We're safe here." 

I opened my eyes to find us in a forest of dead, bare trees with a blanket of moist gold and brown leaves at their trunks. A light fog hung in the air and the air felt charged, casting everything in the unearthly yellow tint that comes before a storm.

"Where is this place?" I asked. I turned and was surprised to see her face awash in sadness.

"So you really have forgotten," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Forgotten what?" I asked, confused. "And come to think of it, you said you thought I'd remember you. Who are you anyway?"

She looked away, placing her hand on the nearest tree. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm you," she said.

I blinked, not sure I had heard her right. "What?"

She sighed and turned to face me. "I said I'm you."

"But...you don't even look like me."

She removed her hat, ran a hand through her greasy, tangled locks, and replaced the hat. "That's because I'm not you exactly."

"You're not making any sense."

"How do I put this..." she said. "I was born from the part of your soul that was left here the last time you were here."

".....and that was?" I asked, not entirely convinced.

"When you were eleven," she said.

I blinked, a little surprised. How did she know that some of my memories from that summer at my grandmother's were missing? After I had come back from an afternoon of playing in the woods behind her house, dazed and confused, they had concluded that I had fallen while climbing a tree and hit my head hard enough to make me lose large chunks of my memory.

"I suppose it makes sense, though," she continued. "All your memories of this place must have come with me when our soul was split."

"Wait, wait, hold on," I said, not sure I could keep up. "How did my--our--soul get split, exactly?"

Her face was grave. "You were hit directly in the heart by a blast of dark magic. It was enough to leave you in critical condition and force me out of your soul. I had to seek the help of the Great Mage to heal you and bring you back to your world."

I sat down on a fallen log, rubbing my temples. I had way too many questions and wasn't sure where to start. "How did I get hit in the heart by..." I hesitated to say it; it felt so ridiculous.

"By dark magic? You had accidentally stumbled on the lair of Belahzat, who recognized you and took the opportunity to get rid of you."

"Wait, so this...Belahzat...person...recognized me?" I asked. "Why?"

She looked me directly in the eyes. "Because you were the first human chosen to be the Great Mage's apprentice in 900 years. And now that Belahzat knows he didn't kill you fifteen years ago, he's set on making sure you're gone for good."