Pier Frederick
“Nevah go on dat pier!”
“Not when da moon is full!”
“When not a creak can ya hear!”
“When da world is at a lull!”
Grandmother always warned me about it.
From when I was a naive youngster,
To a cynical teenager,
To a mostly reliable adult,
I was always warned about Pier Frederick.
Frustratingly,
She never gave me a concrete answer.
Whenever I tried to press further.
What onyx skin that was there,
Turned milk white suddenly,
Right before she began to yell and cuss,
“Just listen tah yah elders!!”
Of course,
It only served to give the opposite effect.
What lay on that pier,
To make such a bullheaded woman,
Turn into such a lamb?
It was the night of my 25th birthday,
Where I decided to finally go,
Filled to the brim with courage,
Found in a pint,
I made my way to Pier Frederick.
The full moon illuminated the area.
Empty vendor stands lay unmanned.
Benches that were usually filled to the brim,
With laugh and peaceful people,
Was absent of even those who lacked peace or a roof.
Pier Frederick was entirely devoid of life.
Well.
Not completely true.
There was one occupant still there,
Alone with the smell of the sea in my nostrils.
I waited one hour.
Then two.
Then three.
It was two in the morning.
Everything had run out with me.
My pint full of courage.
My sense of calm.
My desire to remain there.
It was when I turned to leave did I hear it.
“Pleasant night, young man.”
He was behind me.
He looked to be in his late seventies, eighties even.
He was hunchbacked and his sagging skin was very noticeable.
A suit fitted his old frame, dark as if the night itself was the fabric.
His voice was polite and welcoming and ever-so calm…
Yet.
There was something about it.
An unmistakable ‘wrinkle’ in its pitch.
As if what I was hearing was merely a cover for something more…
Otherly.
My hair stood to the back of my neck.
I was never praised for my boldness,
But my speed in track was considered remarkable.
I was about halfway back up the road,
Wind flowing through my hair and feet galloping towards my haven, Confident
that such a withered husk would never catch me.
“What’s the rush, young man?”
How was he in front of me?
One minute he was left to the dust’s whims.
The next he stood like an iron gate,
Looking not even a smidge out of breath.
The road was wide enough that me overtaking him,
Was not unfeasible or impossible,
But I knew.
Not from knowledge.
Not from experience.
Not from wisdom.
I knew from deep within.
From just sight alone,
That such a man,
Or rather,
Such a being,
Would lead to rot if I stepped any closer.
I tried turning back.
“Bit of a fickle one, yes?”
But he was right behind me.
Adrenaline spiked throughout my body,
And I quickly weighed in my options,
Fight or flight,
With ‘flight’ only succeeding in keeping me grounded,
I tried to ‘fight’.
When it came to schoolyard brawls,
I usually found myself near the bottom of the heap,
But I could always say,
I dragged one or two down with me.
“Feisty one, yes?”
And yet,
This old man,
Had avoided my strike completely,
Without a single trace of effort being exerted.
Or rather,
He didn’t dodge my strike,
I missed him.
An unmoving target.
Only an inch away from me.
Yet, I missed him.
It was impossible.
It was unfathomable.
It was ridiculous.
Yet,
It still happened.
“Got it all out of your system? If so, allow me to…introduce myself.”
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t speak.
I could only barely see,
Yet, I could hear every word.
The old man crept ever so closer,
Silent and deliberate.
Like air - a weightless presence.
I felt my insides bursting in anticipation of what’s to come,
Surely, this was but a Reaper
Maybe even the Devil himself?
All I could guess was that man was doom everlasting.
“I say introduce myself,”
“But I suppose humanity already has a firm grasp on my identity.”
“Hm? A demon? Or maybe psycho-pomp?”
“Hah, not quite right…”
“But I am no angel, either.”
“I am neither a malevolent incarnate,”
“Nor am I your guardian against evil.”
“I am beyond such labels entirely.”
As he spoke, chills ran down the base of my spine and spread throughout my body.
Every word that he said only succeeded in earning a feeling of being next to a cliffside.
How close he was to me with an unchanging smile on his face,
We both knew that if he felt like it,
A harsh whisper from him would have been the death of me.
“No, rather instead of thinking so simply like ‘good’ or ‘evil’,”
“Try thinking of a ‘what’ instead.”
“...Still nothing?”
“It’s not that difficult…”
“Think about what you are feeling.”
“Utterly alone in a familiar place, yet it's no good with no one aware of your presence.”
“The longer you wait, the more it comes to you how foolish you were for doing this.”
“Twenty-one centuries pass, yet the world is as dangerous as ever with ill-intentions.”
“What if I was a robber? Be it some disregarded soul or wretched opportunist?” “Tipsy
and confused. It would be easy to kill someone so off-guard.”
“Someone’s here, but you don’t recognize them…”
“Or rather, you do recognize them…”
“But something is awry…there’s a flaw in them.”
“Not visually, mind you, but there is something inhuman about them.”
“Deep down, you felt escape was inevitable.”
“It doesn't matter how fast you run or how hard you struggle.”
“There’s no escape.”
“That is who I am.”
“That is who I will be.”
“That is the sole truth to be garnered.”
“Have you figured it out, boy?”
“There’s a bit of Myself in everyone.”
“It’s only natural.”
“I am but your warning system…”
“Though, I suppose, whether I am heeded is another thing entirely.”
“This world is full of my favorite types, you know?”
“People who act fearless to anyone weaker or less fortunate than them…”
“But an ant topples their trophies all the same.”
“Do you understand now?”
“Or, perhaps, a more visual demonstration is in order?”
“Humans can be so superstitious,”
“Yet so stubborn to accept reality.”
“A curious habit, indeed.”
I was moving.
My legs that once remained firmly in place,
Felt as if they were being pulled backwards,
Turning a fearful young man that was once a statue,
To a puppet that was dragged to oblivion.
I was brought ever closer to the pier.
Onto the rotten wood that barely held the dock together,
And at the edge of it where one false step or nudge or shift,
Could send me into that unforgiving liquid below.
I’m a decent swimmer,
But would I even be able to swim in a condition like this?
Would I even have the power to keep my head above water?
Or will I just sink in the depths?
My body swelling with saltwater,
All before being gnawed to nothing.
As beads of sweat rolled down my face,
As my body struggled to stay upright and not fall in,
As I contemplated this situation being my last,
Did it click in my mind of who this was.
“Yes, you finally understood.”
“I am the embodiment of your paranoia.”
“As long as Life itself doubts its safety,”
“That it's reluctant to trust in its surroundings.”
“That is suspecting the content of their neighbors.”
“I will always exist.”
“I go by many names…”
“Fear is a common one and I guess Anxiety, for another.”
“The Greeks even solidified a God for my troubles in the form of Phobos.”
“Ah, but nowadays, I prefer something more…sophisticated.”
Those rotten planks never moved an inch.
I heard nothing that even suggested any manner of movement.
Yet.
He was right there in my left ear,
His whisper cold and intense,
As if listening to it is a form of poison in itself.
“Young man, I am the Epitome of Trepidation.”
Just like that the cold fades to warmth.
I could move on my own again.
But, it was at the worst possible moment.
My legs couldn’t support myself.
A horrible screech leaves my throat.
The last thing I remember before I hit the water?
“Validated threats or false alarms; I keen ears all the same…”
“But if one decides to choose self-destruction just from being warned…”
“I merely tip my hat in respect…”
“For being given such a wonderful meal!~”