The Only

The Watcher

She watched as the window she climbed through winked out of existence. A mild panic shot through her veins and her body shuddered with uncertainty. She stood up to gather her bearings, hands frantically searching behind and then in front, but the darkness obstructed all sight. Directly behind, where the window once hung, she discovered a chilled, damp wall blocking the path. Stretching her arms out she searched to her left and her right, but only discovered more walls. As the panic in her mind began to swell, she crouched down on her hands and knees and started crawling. Her palms gripped the clammy floor pulling her body forward inch by inch.

Max continued to edge forward, without vision and not knowing where she was going. A sudden thought came to her that offered a relief from her disorientation, "Cogito, ergo sum." It was something she heard Samuel, the Blackwell Academy janitor, once say one morning while feeding the squirrels. She asked what it meant, and he informed her, "I think, therefore I am." She didn't think much of it at the time, but in her current condition, it meant everything. Her confidence and certainty started to grow. She stood up and began rationalizing and deducing the situation. She could feel the cool air slide up her nose, through her nasal passages, and swirl around inside her lungs.

"There are four boundaries," she spoke aloud, almost frightening herself as her words echoed in the empty distance. "Left, right, behind, and below." She raised her arms as high as she could, standing on her tiptoes, grazing what had to be a fifth boundary above. That meant there was a sixth side, or wall, she hadn't touched yet. It must be the way she needed to go.

She resumed walking in the only available direction, holding the belief it would lead to an important destination. As she continued forward for what felt like an eternity, thoughts swirled through her head, some more damaging than others. The idea that she might never see her beautiful, blue-haired girlfriend again was most bothersome and nearly paralyzing, but she tucked those away in the far corners of her mind. Mild degrees of terror bubbled up here and there, but she stifled them with thoughts of Chloe. She had to push forward. There was nothing else.

At some point during her walk, she noticed the walls of the corridor slowly becoming visible. Dim light danced across the sides, ceiling, and floor in ripples. Ahead, she spotted a tiny, barely discernible glow. Hope was building in her heart, increasing her pace to a slight jog.

Approaching the light, she could finally recognize its origin. A single candle, no taller than her hand, rested on what appeared to be a wooden crate in the corner of the sixth and final wall.

"What now?" she asked the emptiness, causing the flame to wiggle and grow with a new and abrupt increase in oxygen. In the opposite corner of the candle, she suddenly noticed a pile of fabric and a pair of white glowing eyes. Her whole body jerked with fright. An old man sat, dwarfed by oversized clothing, with his head pointed in Max's direction. His eyes were rolled back as if staring at his own brain seemingly oblivious to her presence. "He... hello?"

"It is a morpho," he answered immediately, startling the girl. His voice was raspy and deep, reminding her of Principal Wells if he were fifty years older. His eyes rolled down and gazed upon the brunette, rapidly blinking several times.

"What?" the young girl asked, voice shaky, not understanding what the man meant. Terror ran through her body as her heart thumped at a quickened pace.

"The blue butterfly. You wondered the type. It is from the morpho genus," he replied. After a brief moment, the man continued. "You have come a long distance, but I have been expecting you."

"Umm..." Max cautiously kept her distance. "Who are you?" A thousand questions were sparking in her head. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.