A Moment Ahead

If people actually knew Esther Ringell, she would have been the topic of every conversation had when there’s nothing else to talk about. Really, it was quite a talent to be someone so odd as Esther yet still avoid being the focus of others’ tongues. When Esther ever pondered this, she would always conclude that her extravagance was such that it was noticed in the moment but forgotten afterwards – especially once she had returned to the safety of her habitual demeanour that had the basic outward appearance of a blank wall. The excuse she loved most when some noticed this stark difference and asked her about it was that she had reserved so much energy (and face muscles) from appearing like a zombie that she could be ‘wild’ and ‘crazy’ with no effort or second thought.

No one knew it because Esther rarely talked about herself to anyone, but she was smiling almost all of the time; it just didn’t show on her face when it wasn’t needed.

Life for Esther often felt like she was flying above herself. The present moment sometimes looked just as distant as memories from the past, and just as clouded as visions of the future. She couldn’t decide whether she was living her whole life together in one moment or if the present was trapping her from going forwards or backwards. Or perhaps time had nothing to do with it at all, but she had gotten so used to the feeling of separation from everyone and everything around her that at times she wished she could be separated from herself in the same way. Esther wouldn’t have been able to tell someone who she was, but she knew; somehow she knew.

Put Esther in a crowd with at least two friends, and she would be the loudest, dumbest, boldest, most likely to repeat jokes others pretended not to hear and definitely most likely to break something (and as the numbers of friends grew, so would the behaviour intensify at a terrifying rate). Yet her openness was not the type that drew others to join in her fun. Instead, it would invite them to stand back and watch the performance unfold, often resulting in someone stepping in before too long to make the unsuccessful attempt of calming her down or telling her to stop. There was no taming her in such moods except by her own volition – always a sudden and untimely transition.

When she saw everyone else dancing, laughing, talking and singing it seemed they were acting no different to the way she was. So, what was it that told her that that simply wasn’t the case? What was it that told her she didn’t need this to enjoy herself the way they cherished this opportunity to have fun?

Sometimes it was a look of approval from another, a ravenous smile urging her on, a steadying hand as she almost stumbled; whatever it was, some form of encouragement was always what summoned the green light – a green light that made her stop before she went on.

No one else ever noticed the light, but Esther didn’t care what they thought about her or the light in such moments. It was only her and the small ball of glowing green that hovered in the centre of her vision regardless of which way she looked. (After noticing that a small cloud of light stayed in front of her eyes after looking away from the sun or some other bright light, she decided that green must be the colour of her soul which such moments of self-reflection brought before her vision, blinding her with its light in the same way). Esther never saw herself in the green light like she did in a mirror. She didn’t need to see an image to be able to look on from the outside. There was no hiding, so searching wasn’t necessary. Everything was exposed to her gaze, and she knew that if she decided to do so, she could walk away quietly and sit by herself feeling a hundred times less alone than she was in that moment. Peace could be hers in an instant. But Esther was never there for her own sake. Certainly, she was enjoying herself, but just as it had been the bright eyes and laughing faces that made her turn inwards, so it was to paint more of those gaping grins that drew her back out.

So the performance continued.

Esther would power through legions of green lights, leaving behind a trail of concerned inquiries, cups of water and pillow-turned-tables like she was afraid she might lose her way home. Well, everyone else would always be afraid; Esther knew she could be back there with a simple blink of an eye. She wished she could be embarrassed, or at least that being embarrassed would stop her. But the green light didn’t allow such things. Only when she was about to fall off the edge and seeing others drop off before her did she rein in her frenzy and retreat to the shadows which ached for her presence and her green light that brightened them. Then she would disappear.

The green light didn’t only appear then. During confrontations, it would soothe her; in bed, it would hold her back; when playing, it would surge her forwards; in moments of danger, it would suspend her; while talking, it would weigh her down. But her favourite moments would be when that brilliant green light would fly far above her and sweep her up.

It didn’t take much to kindle her soul in this way. The simple sight of ethereal mountains hiding their heads amidst crimson clouds, the crisp breath of wind rushing down from the flailing trees to catch her up in its moving embrace, the swelling symphonies of waves and thunderstorms accompanying the feelings in her heart, the scent of coming rains awakening her own sense of anticipation for things ahead, the taste of a cold drink of water in the middle of the night bringing her back to life, the silent journey of her thoughts travelling to every star and dark patch in the night sky. Her green light went where she could not, making her both love and hate such moments. Being an observer was not enough. It sparked a feeling, awoke a desire, brought pleasure to the senses, but she was not part of the experience itself. Even if she could stay and observe forever, she would not be satisfied.

Esther wanted more. She wanted to be one with whatever or whoever it was her green light was drawing her towards when it teased her with such longings. Food existed to satisfy her when she was hungry, sleep when she was tired, warmth when she was cold, coolness when she was hot, entertainment when she was bored, so there had to be something that her green light was leading her towards when it tore her apart from herself.

So far, the closest she had gotten to finding an end to this ache was resting in the arms of one she loved. When this happened, the green light didn’t need to appear before her. She saw it already glowing within.