Ariadne
I suppose you could attribute it to my curious nature but I can't stand a
secret. The quickest way to irritate me is to say, "I've got a secret, but I
can't tell you." It really drives me nuts! Maybe, if I could control that
impulse, this story would never have happened. Maybe I should be less
inquisitive in the future. Maybe ...
It all started when I was walking through the hills ... as a result of my
excellent navigation skills I'd managed to miscalculate a minor detail in the
terrain. Like a mountain. Oh well, this trip SEEMED like a good idea at the
time.
In the surrounding hills of my old city still remain echoes of old colonial
times. Manors and even small keeps abound in the highlands, not tourist
attractions but still noble family estates. To see one of these grey and
forbidding edifices up close had always been a dream of mine, so when I
actually saw the mammoth cast iron gate yawning wide, a tall white tower in
the distance, you can understand my temptation.
I wondered whether entering would be considered trespassing. Unconsciously I
was already strolling through the beckoning portal, I didn't feel worried by
any laws of the land. To hell with the rules; if later asked I could always
respond "Hey, your gate was open."
I'm normally very cautious, but sometimes I get the impulse to do something
REALLY reckless. I think everybody has a very contrary element in their
nature, a counter to the everyday.
Reckless. Like what I was doing now. I half-expected snarling, savage security
dogs to pounce on me and rip me to shreds. But my passage was undisturbed.
Slightly disappointed that my actions had gone unnoticed, I headed to the
white tower that crested the knoll.
Does anybody feel invisible? If we were suddenly removed from Life, would the
world notice? Does anybody notice the individual in the crowd? Maybe it's a
matter of perspective. When an ant dies, nobody seems to care, but in ant
society that ant may be sorely missed. Maybe that ant has friends that miss
them now, and reminisce about things they did together. Who can say? Maybe I'm
just projecting ants with a little too much personality!
The sun finally peeped through the cloud and the meadow lit up and sharply
reminded me that it was spring. It had been a wintry day, an overcast sky full
of dark harbingers of rain. My sodden clothes were testament to the fury of
the storm. Now ... the sun struck down upon the white tower - a dazzling,
radiant spire was born out of that bleak, austere structure.
At that moment, I felt I was in the presence of destiny. Something special was
happening ... I felt that this vision was mine and mine alone. Knowing within
my heart that I had done the right thing, I quickened my steps towards that
shining abode. The black oaken door reverberated with my knock, a knell of
doom.
Startled, I jumped, regretted my decision. It's strange how one can be so sure
one minute and so uncertain the next. The booming of that door seemed to have
woken me from a pleasant daydream, abruptly bringing cold reality back into
sharp focus. What the hell was I doing?
Then the door opened and my heart leapt. A glorious girl stood in the doorway,
her demeanour; childlike and curious. The vision of purity and innocence
beamed brighter than her ivory tower.
(Later looking back on it, I could analyze why she was so lovely. Her goodness
suffused her features; a heavenly glow that made her beautiful beyond earthly
ken.)
Serenely she presented herself as Ariadne. Charmed, I greeted her in kind and
waited for her to ask why I was trespassing. Instead she invited me into the
surrounds of her tower. My fears had departed me - I no longer worried about
the logic of the situation. I just let it carry me.
Walking into her tower I stepped back in time. The tower's furnishings were
Victorian in nature, all in excellent condition, a very intricate slice of
life in the 1800's. I've always been fond of the Victorian in terms of style,
so I chose a large stuffed armchair to deposit myself in. Ariadne sat opposite
me, only a small table separating us.
She began to speak with me on an array of subjects, however it was obvious
that although trained in conversation she had little practical experience. She
seemed to hunger for knowledge of the outside world. It appeared that Ariadne
had never left her ivory tower.
This was apparent by her responses, since I had to explain the most basic
concepts of life. Having little human contact, Ariadne seemed to have been
raised from books.
The only other person on the property lived in a small stone cottage closer to
the gate. Ariadne spoke of Jeremiah, the groundskeeper, with warmth and
obvious affection - he had virtually raised her when she was a child, talking
to her and teaching her enough to read the trove of knowledge stored in the
tower.
A true treasure it was! She displayed her collection with total modesty. There
were texts on art, principles of thought, early science and the fables of
literature. Unlike me, I knew that she's read all those classics that I'd
bought, but never got around to reading. I guess I was caught up in the hustle
and bustle, too busy to sit down and appreciate these literary gems. But
Ariadne, in her ivory tower, had the peace and tranquillity to clearly hear
the evocative messages from those long-dead writers, without the interference
that we call life, obscuring those immortal voices.
That's when it hit me. This was a person never afflicted by the vicissitudes
of life, an individual raised in a stable, caring and comfortable environment
for her entire existence. This sweet girl was as close to perfect as a human
being could ever come.
I then decided that I could never destroy those illusions that Ariadne had
built around herself. That the world made sense; where the good were rewarded
for their kindness and the evil were punished for their cruelty.
I have seen the truth and it makes no sense; too often the good are
downtrodden and reviled while their evil adversaries are respected and
esteemed. That's what breaks a good person, I think. Doing good generally
brings no reward but pain, while evil laughs all the way to the bank. Why
would any rational person choose to be good?
I felt I was in the presence of an angel; a wondrous, exquisite but delicate
angel. And I wondered if Ariadne could feel sympathy for the pain of others,
having no knowledge of suffering herself. How do you explain colours to the
blind? What can you relate it to without true experience?
I visited her often after that. She gave me a key to the outer gate, with an
invitation to visit any time. Ariadne was obviously so lonely, so starved for
human contact. I made a weekly ritual of visiting her and giving her a
carefully screened and beautiful façade of the world outside. She seemed happy
to receive reinforcement to her carefully crafted illusion - my commitment to
honesty was that I brought only truth, just not all of it. I brought the few
happy endings, not the ninefold majority where the endings were not so happy.
Meagre scraps though they were, I was bringing the best my world had to offer.
Then ... I knew one day it would end. It's strange how some small detail that
seems so meaningless, so insignificant, can have such a harrowing effect.
I left my bag behind.
That statement looks so innocuous, sitting there on the page. But as I will
reveal, its impact was shattering.
Tears. Flowing down those sweet features, knives piercing deeply into my
heart. It pained me to perceive her pain. In a tortured, choked voice, such a
tragic mockery of her angelic tone, Ariadne asked me whether it was true.
She lifted the newspaper from my bag. It was a relatively normal example of a
newspaper - the occasional murder, accidents, war reports and starving
children.
To one who had never experienced death or pain had now seen the truth of Life.
Fundamentally cruel, that everything didn't wrap up nicely in the last
chapter.
With reluctance, I verified the newspaper's stories. I felt like a parent
explaining to their child why their pet couldn't play with them any more. I
wasn't in the best state of mind either. I felt like a monster; that I had
unleashed such agony within her, albeit unwittingly.
I told this pure innocent of the ways of the world. I bestowed on Ariadne
knowledge of death, pain and hate - all these things which we deal with every
day. It came out in such a rush - I told her of my pain, my failed hopes, my
unrequited love. I just couldn't help it, just a release of everything
weighing down my soul.
When I finished, Ariadne just gazed at me, her eyes full of love. Even though
she was distressed by this horrendous pain, pain that I had thrust upon her,
she could still bring herself to care for her tormentor.
The simple beauty of the act brought me to tears.
Ariadne stroked my shoulder tenderly and my own pain dwindled, eclipsed by her
agony. With love in her eyes, Ariadne gave me a faint smile; a brave, sad,
little smile.
Nothing would prepare me for what happened next. She aged within moments, her
pained features withering centuries in minutes. It seemed like the wind blew
and Ariadne fractured - flaked away, piece by piece, and she was gone. All
that remained were her empty clothes and grey dust on the breeze that was
already dying down.
Shock. I dropped to my knees in confusion and anguish. Ariadne was gone.
Forever. Looking at the dust that was the remains of Ariadne, interspersed in
her white dress, I could do nothing but weep.
Zombielike, I made my way from the ivory tower. Even as the storm broke, I
felt shattered and helpless. Although I had never met him, I decided to inform
Jeremiah as to the state of his mistress.
Naturally, Jeremiah was devastated and I became the focus of his ire. He
explained that Ariadne had been raised from birth with no knowledge of death;
since she was ignorant of death, she was immune to its dread touch.
She had been in a state of budding womanhood for over a hundred years.
Her parents, long dead, had wished to preserve her from the agony of life;
they had wanted her to be truly timeless. Ever unchanging, ever beautiful,
ever perfect. He further spoke of his bloodline, which had altered their
features to resemble the first Jeremiah - when Ariadne was growing up. He was
of an age similar to myself, not the grizzled 60 year-old that he seemed. His
true age showed now, his pain, his anger, his sadness. I had brought about the
destruction of his family's legacy to Ariadne - I had revealed the concept of
death to her and that had called the pale rider to claim her.
I'm sure that Jeremiah burned with the wish for retribution towards me, but
for the moment his sorrow outweighed his wrath. I'd already done enough damage
- I left him to his grief.
Let me tell you, I felt totally worthless. Through such a minor mistake, I had
caused so much damage; I had destroyed something that would have been truly
eternal.
As the sun pierced the tempest, I was struck with an epiphany:
The true beauty of Ariadne was revealed at the end of her life. Knowing that
the world was fundamentally uncaring, she could still care for others. She
could ignore her pain and still manage to love. That we can love one another
in this cruel mockery of existence is truly miraculous. A miracle of which we
all are capable.
We appreciate beauty more when we know that it will be gone some day. The
rose, while beautiful, will wilt, the plant will die. While the rose blooms,
we love its beauty, because it won't last forever. The metaphor for human
existence. We grow, we bloom and then we die. We are all the more precious to
one another since we know it will all end one day.
I do not regret my actions. I did what I thought was right. I may have
disturbed the universe, but such is my right, such is my duty. I live in it,
after all. Whether I enrich the cosmos or ruin it is up to me. Ariadne had a
mockery of life, she was only truly beautiful from her own mortality. Ariadne
was only truly in our world for a short time, but she enriched this world
before she left it.
We have turned our back on paradise - it is now up to us to create our own
paradise.
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