In the Shadow of The Monolith

We all remember the day. The day "it" first appeared. It appeared on the horizon, on the edge of town, with no rhyme or reason for why it was there or even what it was.

Some called it the monument, others the monolith, or even the menhir. Our seemingly idyllic paradise was forever changed.

The blue skies that once offered a glorious sight were now clouded in uncertainty and unease. The sun and its egg-yolk vibrancy were now tainted with a blueish-grey. The scent of the pine and the wildflowers surrounding our little village were now poisoned with the acrid fumes of distrust and disharmony.

There was a lot of speculation about it. While some people saw it as a wholly positive thing. Others, including myself, were less convinced it meant anything other than dread.

The speculation only increased when it moved overnight.

*

We woke to find that after a couple of weeks, the monument had moved a quarter of a mile closer to our village.

Overnight, it became more of a concern, and even those who were not fussed about its existence or origin started to wonder about its purpose or meaning.

The structure was 12-feet tall and weighed an incalculable number of tonnes. It was impossibly smooth, with diamond patterns etched into the silverish-grey surface. It had a slightly rounded top, and there was no discernible entrance point.

If it was indeed some kind of ancient or futuristic vessel, there was nothing to suggest its purpose. That fact alone encouraged those who believed it was not of this world to conflate their arguments. After all, if it had been human, it would have had some translatable earthen language written on it somewhere, right?

Everyone had their own opinion, and everyone reacted differently to the monolith. There was a quiet, gradual madness within certain community factions. Even those who pretended to be otherwise unbothered by its presence, in the quiet of their own homes would worry and fret about what might happen next.

Some had even started to worship it. While no one wanted to admit it, their religious reverence increased daily. For some, it was a deep faith; for others, it was a way of bargaining, just in case it did turn out to be something otherworldly. Calculated faith is based on fear and the desire to survive.

Others had started trying to access it...if that was even possible, while many communicated with it.

They would speak to it, and often, we would hear stories that they had received replies or feelings that were seen as replies to them.

I tried touching it once. It felt, wrong. Metallic, but not really sure I could ever really discern the type of metal from which it was formed. It also remained the same temperature, regardless of the time of day or night. There was an uncanny smoothness to its design. Remarkable some would say. The engineering and construction experts in our village were baffled by it.

On one strange occasion, Charles and Catherine, a senior couple from our village, were found at dusk, prancing around the monolith as naked as the day they were born, hugging its smooth and cold surface. Catherine still recounts her intimate moment with the monolith as if it were a lover from her past she longed to be reunited with.

As is the way of these things, as we have seen in too many chapters of human history to recount, the different reactions, indifference, and even ambivalence had caused something of a schism within our once tight, or at least seemingly tight, community. Factions were forming in the uncertainty that was unveiling.

"In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule." - Friedrich Nietzsche

The religious zealots who wanted to...no... believed the monolith was something important and something to be revered sectioned themselves away from others in the town. They genuinely thought they were right and didn't want their faith and devotion muddied by the distrust of the others. Those bargaining for their lives in the hopes that whoever was behind the menhir would show favour to them were quietly cold and calculating. The religious faction and those bargainers almost came to blows, each wanting to dismiss the other's approach to the monument.

There was also a worrying number of people who believed that whatever the monument meant or whoever was behind it was not good, and they thought we should prepare for battle. This put them in direct conflict with the religious and those bargaining. Meanwhile, conspiracy theorists believe we should be making plans to hide or getaway. Many tried to escape...but found a horrible truth around the town's borders. There was no escape. At least that's what they warned us about when a group of ten people tried to make it to a neighbouring city.

Some began praying, communicating, and even dancing for the monument day and night, neglecting their own well-being and giving in to their uncontrollable passion. If I had been less sceptical and more of a believer, they would have been overcome and possessed. But surely not.

Talk circulated around the town about plans for the inaugural "Day of Celebration of the Monumental Monolith." I even heard there were plans to decorate the monolith with bunting and for our mayor to cut a ribbon to officiate the day. The local bakery, McClafferty's, was commissioned via a kitty collected from just about everyone to create a monolithic cake.

After two more weeks of being that little bit closer to town, there was a terrible storm, forcing even the most devout into their homes, and then, in the morning, it was gone.

If there was a sense of dread and importance to its arrival and its slow and gradual move towards our town, its absence left us all with even greater dread.

There was mourning because, in a short time, many had become accustomed to its presence and felt its disappearance may be a sign of our unworthiness. Perhaps we had all got it wrong, the cynics and those ready for war.

Looking at the spot where it once stood ominously and majestically, there was no sign that it was ever there. The grass did not appear to have been pressed down at all and there was no difference in its height compared to the height of the grass that surrounded the spot. There were tears, screams, and many worried and downcast faces.

A profound silence was felt throughout the town. Even those who had been warring against one another had given up their disputes.

However, there was no real reconciliation, and we all seemed to be going through the motions—just barely surviving.

Then Tommy, little Tommy, Bobby and Kittie's youngest, went missing at the edge of the town. The self-appointed guards had long given up their posts to stop townsfolk from wandering too close to the boundaries...for fear that something might happen to them. But Tommy was an eager and inquisitive lad.

A search party was put together, consisting of Bobby and Kittie with a few townsfolk that had the trust of our community's disparate factions. Bobby and Kittie had gone eastwards, and when the rest of the search party returned, thinking they must have returned, a renewed sense of dread and ache of loss spread through our community. No trace of the missing three was found. Their house remained empty, as no one felt it right or just or even respectful to set up a home in their house.

Did we hold out hope that they might return, that they had found a way of escaping beyond the agreed-upon boundary? Probably, but with the days passing since the disappearance of the great monolith, then Tommy, Bobby, and Kittie, hope was rare.

Even though we all saw it with our own eyes and all touched it, many started to suggest that the monolith was a figment of our collective minds and that we only saw what we wanted to see.

In time, the town moved on. Well, that's a lie right there. I have to add that we never moved on. The monolith, the disappearance of Tommy and his parents, was very much etched into our minds. We all pretended that we were moving on. Working away, living our lives, eating pie and shooting the shit like nothing had happened. Until someone said something mid-conversation that brought the fear, the maddening sadness and the uncertainty of everything we had experienced back to the forefront of our minds.

We were lost.

It felt that we had gained and lost so much in such a short space of time.

One day, I found myself venturing further to the edge of town. I wondered why so many of us were not bothered by going there. Many had reasoned that we would repeat their mistake if that's what Tommy, Bobby and Kittie had done.

As one given to scepticism, I wanted to refute and disprove that reasoning.

As I approached the town's edge, though. I sank to my knees in horror. Well, it could be described as horror... but really the feelings coursing through my body were new. I looked beyond the edge of town and saw nothing.

As I crawled, shaking towards the edge, I saw nothing beneath. Not even the vastness and limitlessness of space...just nothing.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Sorry if you've already read this, I had made it exclusive, so that it could be accepted as a submission to an online publication, as a reprint. It was rejected, so resharing it, as a free to public story again.

This is for the Write Club March Madness Unofficial Challenge thing put together by the incredible RM Stockton, which you can find out more about at the link below. I've had this idea swimming around in my head for a few weeks now.

If you are interested in other word abuse and Engish language torture, follow the links below: