Trembling With Fear 4-28-24

The Museum of Nothingness, by Adrian Fahy

‘The ‘Museum of Nothingness’ was everything its name suggested. After exploring all three floors, Joel found each room empty and deserted. With no usher to guide him, he followed a sign on the third floor. It pointed towards the only feature in the entire place: ‘Nirvana.’

He wandered down the wide corridor, its red walls mantled with stern depictions of mystics and saints. Their eyes seemed to follow him, casting judgment on his moral worth.

He reached a dead end, marked by a wall of immaculate white. In the centre hung a black door, partly open, with paint flaking from its rotting wood.

A sign post declared: ‘You have arrived.’

Was this Nirvana?

Joel had seen the ad in a newspaper the previous day: ‘Experience a fleeting moment of bliss. Free yourself from the burdens of your mind.’ At first he dismissed it as a hoax. But that evening, as he lay on his unmade bed, searching for a reason to get up, he decided it was worth a shot.

He wondered if he ought to have told his dad where he was going, just in case something happened.

No, he probably wouldn’t care. While Joel’s father wasn’t a cruel man, he certainly wasn’t a loving one. Though it had been just the two of them since Joel’s mother passed, they were practically strangers.

The blame for this fell partly on Joel, who made little effort to connect with his aging parent. He dreamed of moving out and would have left years ago if he could afford it. But he couldn’t find steady work and the valium, which he hoped would quench his darker thoughts, only drained his motivation. Yet now, as he stood before the doorway to Nirvana, he couldn’t bring himself to enter. 

Protruding from the door, a rusty knocker ring clamped in its jaws, was a demonic gargoyle. It glared at him, daring him to step inside. His exhausted mind still craved release. But there was something else, like a fire alarm in his brain telling him to run.

Behind him, the double doors flapped open, and a young woman, about his own age, wheeled through the hall.

She sat in a pink cushioned wheelchair, decorated with spiral patterns. From beneath a black beret,  strands of red hair tumbled out, and though her body was tense and rigid, her pleasant smile suggested a carefree manner. She didn’t notice him, so engrossed was she in the paintings. Her nose crinkled as she studied the religious iconography.

Turning suddenly, she caught his gaze, causing him to blush. He cursed himself for gawping. 

“I thought I was the only one crazy enough to do this,” she said, wheeling towards him. “Or are you still on the fence?”

His mouth was dry. After years of isolation, his tongue felt like an untrained muscle.

“I don’t know anyone else who’s gone in there,” he said, pointing behind him. “It might be dangerous.”

The black door creaked, as if to offer reassurance.

“Didn’t you hear about that junkie, the one from town?” she said. “He tried it, and now he’s totally clean.”

This story rang a bell. Joel recalled the strange man who hung around Main Street. He used to harass Joel for change whenever he walked by, but he hadn’t seen him in a while. Maybe he started a new life somewhere else.

“Did he say what it was like?” Joel asked.

The girl’s eyes brightened. “Apparently, it was indescribable, unlike anything he’d ever felt. They say he experienced Esho-funi. It’s a Buddhist word; it means oneness with the world.”

Joel pondered this. “You think it could help with… other things?”

“What kind of things?” she asked, listening with intent.

He hadn’t thought his question through. “Well, you know…sometimes I…” His unsaid words hung in the air.

Don’t go spilling your guts. She’s a stranger; she doesn’t care.

“Never mind,” he said with a weak laugh.

She stared at him for a few moments, then moved closer.

“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I’ve had my fair share of suffering.” 

She spoke with wounded sincerity. Joel saw that her smile was a thin disguise, betrayed by a grimace of pain whenever she moved her head. 

“You pray that things will get better,” she continued, “but they don’t. It’s just an endless cycle of false hope and disappointment. What if this is a chance to escape that?”

Joel knew there was a sound argument somewhere; he just couldn’t find it. “This Esco-funi thing,” he said, “it could mess with our heads. What if we never get our old selves back?”

She smirked. “Would that be so bad?”

He thought about those endless nights brooding in his room, wishing he had somebody else’s life. “Maybe not.”

The creaking door swung back and forth, beckoning them in. A gust of wind must have blown, though outside it was a calm, clear day.

The girl swallowed hard, but her determined expression never faltered. “What do you say?” she asked.

Her pleading eyes melted his trepidation.

“Alright,” he whispered.

A smile lit up her face, and she took his hand. Her warm touch trickled through him. He wondered how Esho-funi compared to this.

The hinges groaned as he pulled open the door, unleashing a blitz of blinding light.

Shielding her face, she beckoned him ahead. With caution, he released the door, taking solace in its staying ajar. He walked a few steps before her. 

His eyes readjusted, but there wasn’t anything to see. The room, shapeless and white, had no walls,  and seemed to stretch on forever.  He couldn’t tell if he was outside or still indoors. 

There was a violent bang and the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut.

Don’t panic. Nothing to worry about.

“So, what happens now?” he asked.

No answer. 

“Hey, the door is locked; how do we leave?”

She sat in silence, facing away from him.

His chest was heaving. 

He grabbed the back of her chair and spun her around.

“How did he get out of here? That guy, the junkie, how did he leave?”

The girl stared through him with wide, unblinking eyes.  

Joel’s entire body was shaking now. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

A tear fell from her face and vanished into obscurity. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come here alone. I…”

But Joel was gone, racing through the dead plain like a panicked rat. He prayed for a familiar sight;  the sky, a tree, just a pebble would suffice. All he found was empty space. 

No, this can’t be real.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” the girl cried. “We were supposed to fade away! It was meant to be painless.”

Joel barely heard her. He collapsed to his knees, pleading with any god that would listen.

If he could just find his way home, he’d never ask for anything more. He would throw his arms around his father’s neck, and thank him for the gift of his sad, glorious life.