c. 2000 by Cailean Darkwater
I suppose you could attribute it to my curious nature but I can't
stand a secret. The quickest way to irritate me is to say, "I've got a
secret, but I can't tell you." It really drives me nuts! Maybe, if I
could control that impulse, this story would never have happened.
Maybe I should be less inquisitive in the future. Maybe.
It all started when I was walking through the hills. As a result of
my excellent navigation skills I'd managed to miscalculate a minor
detail in the terrain. Like a mountain. Oh well, this trip seemed like
a good idea at the time.
In the surrounding hills of my old city still remain echoes of old
colonial times. Manors and even small keeps abound in the highlands,
not tourist attractions but still noble family estates. To see one of
these grey and forbidding edifices up close had always been a dream of
mine, so when I actually saw the mammoth cast iron gate yawning wide,
a tall white tower in the distance, you can understand my temptation.
I wondered whether entering would be considered trespassing.
Unconsciously I was already strolling through the beckoning portal, I
didn't feel worried by any laws of the land. To hell with the rules;
if later asked I could always respond, "Hey, your gate was open."
I'm normally very cautious, but sometimes I get the impulse to do
something really reckless. I think everybody has a very contrary
element in their nature, a counter to the everyday.
Reckless. Like what I was doing now. I half-expected snarling, savage
security dogs to pounce on me and rip me to shreds. But my passage was
undisturbed. Slightly disappointed that my actions had gone unnoticed,
I headed to the white tower that crested the knoll.
Does anybody feel invisible? If we were suddenly removed from Life,
would the world notice? Does anybody notice the individual in the
crowd? Maybe it's a matter of perspective. When an ant dies, nobody
seems to care, but in ant society that ant may be sorely missed. Maybe
that ant has friends that miss them now, and reminisce about things
they did together. Who can say? Maybe I'm just projecting ants with a
little too much personality!
The sun finally peeped through the cloud and the meadow lit up and
sharply reminded me that it was spring. It had been a wintry day, an
overcast sky full of dark harbingers of rain. My sodden clothes were
testament to the fury of the storm. Now the sun struck down upon
the white tower - a dazzling, radiant spire was born out of that
bleak, austere structure.
At that moment, I felt I was in the presence of destiny. Something
special was happening. I felt that this vision was mine and mine
alone. Knowing within my heart that I had done the right thing, I
quickened my steps towards that shining abode. The black oaken door
reverberated with my knock, a knell of doom.
Startled, I jumped, regretted my decision. It's strange how one can be
so sure one minute and so uncertain the next. The booming of that door
seemed to have woken me from a pleasant daydream, abruptly bringing
cold reality back into sharp focus. What the hell was I doing?
Then the door opened and my heart leapt. A glorious girl stood in the
doorway, her demeanour; childlike and curious. The vision of purity
and innocence beamed brighter than her ivory tower.
(Later looking back on it, I could analyze why she was so lovely. Her
goodness suffused her features; a heavenly glow that made her
beautiful beyond earthly ken.)
Serenely she presented herself as Ariadne. Charmed, I greeted her in
kind and waited for her to ask why I was trespassing. Instead she
invited me into the surrounds of her tower. My fears had departed me -
I no longer worried about the logic of the situation. I just let it
Walking into her tower I stepped back in time. The tower's furnishings
were Victorian in nature, all in excellent condition, a very intricate
slice of life in the 1800's. I've always been fond of the Victorian in
terms of style, so I chose a large stuffed armchair to deposit myself
in. Ariadne sat opposite me, only a small table separating us.
She began to speak with me on an array of subjects, however it was
obvious that although trained in conversation she had little practical
experience. She seemed to hunger for knowledge of the outside world.
It appeared that Ariadne had never left her ivory tower.
This was apparent by her responses, since I had to explain the most
basic concepts of life. Having little human contact, Ariadne seemed to
have been raised from books.
The only other person on the property lived in a small stone cottage
closer to the gate. Ariadne spoke of Jeremiah, the groundskeeper, with
warmth and obvious affection - he had virtually raised her when she
was a child, talking to her and teaching her enough to read the trove
of knowledge stored in the tower.
A true treasure it was! She displayed her collection with total
modesty. There were texts on art, principles of thought, early science
and the fables of literature. Unlike me, I knew that she's read all
those classics that I'd bought, but never got around to reading. I
guess I was caught up in the hustle and bustle, too busy to sit down
and appreciate these literary gems. But Ariadne, in her ivory tower,
had the peace and tranquillity to clearly hear the evocative messages
from those long-dead writers, without the interference that we call
life, obscuring those immortal voices.
That's when it hit me. This was a person never afflicted by the
vicissitudes of life, an individual raised in a stable, caring and
comfortable environment for her entire existence. This sweet girl was
as close to perfect as a human being could ever come.
I then decided that I could never destroy those illusions that Ariadne
had built around herself. That the world made sense; where the good
were rewarded for their kindness and the evil were punished for their
I have seen the truth and it makes no sense; too often the good are
downtrodden and reviled while their evil adversaries are respected and
esteemed. That's what breaks a good person, I think. Doing good
generally brings no reward but pain, while evil laughs all the way to
the bank. Why would any rational person choose to be good?
I felt I was in the presence of an angel; a wondrous, exquisite but
delicate angel. And I wondered if Ariadne could feel sympathy for the
pain of others, having no knowledge of suffering herself. How do you
explain colours to the blind? What can you relate it to without true
I visited her often after that. She gave me a key to the outer gate,
with an invitation to visit any time. Ariadne was obviously so lonely,
so starved for human contact. I made a weekly ritual of visiting her
and giving her a carefully screened and beautiful fašade of the world
outside. She seemed happy to receive reinforcement to her carefully
crafted illusion - my commitment to honesty was that I brought only
truth, just not all of it. I brought the few happy endings, not the
ninefold majority where the endings were not so happy. Meagre scraps
though they were, I was bringing the best my world had to offer.
Then I knew one day it would end. It's strange how some small
detail that seems so meaningless, so insignificant, can have such a
I left my bag behind.
That statement looks so innocuous, sitting there on the page. But as I
will reveal, its impact was shattering.
Tears. Flowing down those sweet features, knives piercing deeply into
my heart. It pained me to perceive her pain. In a tortured, choked
voice, such a tragic mockery of her angelic tone, Ariadne asked me
whether it was true.
She lifted the newspaper from my bag. It was a relatively normal
example of a newspaper - the occasional murder, accidents, war reports
and starving children.
To one who had never experienced death or pain had now seen the truth
of Life. Fundamentally cruel, that everything didn't wrap up nicely in
the last chapter.
With reluctance, I verified the newspaper's stories. I felt like a
parent explaining to their child why their pet couldn't play with them
any more. I wasn't in the best state of mind either. I felt like a
monster; that I had unleashed such agony within her, albeit
I told this pure innocent of the ways of the world. I bestowed on
Ariadne knowledge of death, pain and hate - all these things which we
deal with every day. It came out in such a rush - I told her of my
pain, my failed hopes, my unrequited love. I just couldn't help it,
just a release of everything weighing down my soul.
When I finished, Ariadne just gazed at me, her eyes full of love. Even
though she was distressed by this horrendous pain, pain that I had
thrust upon her, she could still bring herself to care for her
The simple beauty of the act brought me to tears.
Ariadne stroked my shoulder tenderly and my own pain dwindled,
eclipsed by her agony. With love in her eyes, Ariadne gave me a faint
smile; a brave, sad, little smile.
Nothing would prepare me for what happened next. She aged within
moments, her pained features withering centuries in minutes. It seemed
like the wind blew and Ariadne fractured - flaked away, piece by
piece, and she was gone. All that remained were her empty clothes and
grey dust on the breeze that was already dying down.
Shock. I dropped to my knees in confusion and anguish. Ariadne was
gone. Forever. Looking at the dust that was the remains of Ariadne,
interspersed in her white dress, I could do nothing but weep.
Zombielike, I made my way from the ivory tower. Even as the storm
broke, I felt shattered and helpless. Although I had never met him, I
decided to inform Jeremiah as to the state of his mistress.
Naturally, Jeremiah was devastated and I became the focus of his ire.
He explained that Ariadne had been raised from birth with no knowledge of death; since she was ignorant of death, she was immune to its dread touch.
She had been in a state of budding womanhood for over a hundred years.
Her parents, long dead, had wished to preserve her from the agony of
life; they had wanted her to be truly timeless. Ever unchanging, ever
beautiful, ever perfect. He further spoke of his bloodline, which had
altered their features to resemble the first Jeremiah - when Ariadne
was growing up. He was of an age similar to myself, not the grizzled
60 year-old that he seemed. His true age showed now, his pain, his
anger, his sadness. I had brought about the destruction of his
family's legacy to Ariadne - I had revealed the concept of death to
her and that had called the pale rider to claim her.
I'm sure that Jeremiah burned with the wish for retribution towards
me, but for the moment his sorrow outweighed his wrath. I'd already
done enough damage - I left him to his grief.
Let me tell you, I felt totally worthless. Through such a minor
mistake, I had caused so much damage; I had destroyed something that
would have been truly eternal.
As the sun pierced the tempest, I was struck with an epiphany:
The true beauty of Ariadne was revealed at the end of her life.
Knowing that the world was fundamentally uncaring, she could still
care for others. She could ignore her pain and still manage to love.
That we can love one another in this cruel mockery of existence is
truly miraculous. A miracle of which we all are capable.
We appreciate beauty more when we know that it will be gone some day.
The rose, while beautiful, will wilt, the plant will die. While the
rose blooms, we love its beauty, because it won't last forever. The
metaphor for human existence. We grow, we bloom and then we die.
We are all the more precious to one another since we know it will all end one day.
I do not regret my actions. I did what I thought was right. I may have
disturbed the universe, but such is my right, such is my duty. I live
in it, after all. Whether I enrich the cosmos or ruin it is up to me.
Ariadne had a mockery of life, she was only truly beautiful from her
own mortality. Ariadne was only truly in our world for a short time,
but she enriched this world before she left it.
We have turned our back on paradise - it is now up to us to create our
To Myths, Tales & Poems
for the Jung at Heart
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