*
sepelurbs
With a sea of smiles and acknowledging nods, the energy of the city was palpable. Buzzing neon lights and scattered careless pedestrian chatter underscored the rhythm of blinking stoplights and revving engines as the people sang the tunes of their nightly routines, coalescing in a ballad that celebrated the soul of their city. The sky was low with colorful holographic advertisements projected on the smoke, haunting the night like ghosts unheeded. I was walking with a pace unbefitting of the city as friendly faces politely rushed past me, smiling back before I stared back down at the tiled floors, walking how a knight would in chess. I think back to playing hopscotch downtown, do you remember that? Hey, I wonder, does it still get this busy ‘round there too? I was never a fan of that but I’ve grown to appreciate it. I looked for you in every corner of the city. I walked and walked until my legs trembled, each begging to be snapped in two, but I kept walking, the magic of Sepelurb carrying my feet—the promise of you carrying my feet. History flourished with every step, rippling in the wedges of the asphalt, waking the spirits of past artists inside every piece of amateur street art. I soothed the frigid cold with the taste of warm wine coupled with potatoes and bacon bits. I talked to the locals, and they chuckled every time I told them where I was from. “Does that place really exist?” But you do, right? I know you do. Sepelurb was a fairytale. But only for a while. The magic fades and the veneer tears; I walked to the very depths of the city to look for you but what I found was the city that Sepelurb was built on top of. Rumors of this place were told in whispers around shady bars and forgotten alleyways. Sepelurb’s past. The inner layers of Sepelurb’s persona.
~~~
I fell down a manhole and landed on a pile of ash that exploded in a cloud of dust. It was dark, indiscernible from any regular cavern at first glance. I walked carefully, dragging my hand through the dry dusty walls for support—my breath uneven. I shouted your name, looking for you, and I awoke the glowmoths. They buzzed and zipped, enshrouded in blue flame, illuminating a city preserved in ash. I gasped and choked on the dust filled air. Holding back vomit, I kept my eyes shut and subdued tears. I wanted to run back. But I had to keep going. I needed to know. That wasn’t you, right? You would never, right? City as prosperous and kind as you, this wouldn’t be your fate. Right? I had to make sure. I opened my eyes and I walked. Trying to stomach the ashen statues of the people who perished however long ago. I heard little bits of hearsay about the place but none prepared me for what I saw. Neighborhoods and institutions and playgrounds and hidden romantic rendezvous behind malls and lazy Sunday outdoor readings and silent songs all preserved in a grotesque flash of apocalypse. The city that Sepelurb was built on top of after a volcanic incident. I looked for you everywhere and found myself thinking of the snowy winters I braved during your longest nights. Walking around, looking for what, I don’t remember—I miss the frigid bite marks on my cheeks, the snow clinging to my socks, the lonely street lights shining on the twinkling snowscapes. I always felt as if those nights were haunted by something I never understood, like I was never alone. Before I knew it, I was out of the snow and back in the ashen wasteland. I found a house with the lights on. I could hear people arguing. Shouting. There was an eviction letter on the doorstep. I could hear the growling of a wolf approach me. I jumped down another hole.
~~~
I was falling, watching the sky cycle through all its different colors. From expansive blues to sinking oranges to twinkling blacks and nebulous streams of greens and purples—I plunged into the ocean and kept falling.
I woke up on a bed in an empty room. It took a while for me to catch my breath and for my eyes to adjust. The room was lit by a solitary candle. Where was I? The house was built with sun-dried mud bricks and furnished with wooden stools and chairs. The bed was a sack filled with leaves. My belongings were all still with me; I walked out the door, cautiously, and found an open courtyard made of stone. I looked above and found a sky with varying shades of purple fading to black, filled with bright shining stars. I ran. I was still underground, I knew that to be true, but I somehow found myself in a city lost in time. I ran past countless stone homes, temples, workshops, parks, courtyards, pillars, amphitheaters—is this you?—and I stopped to catch my breath. Clasping my knees, I realized what was happening. This was the ancient city that was buried by the city above, before the city above was turned to ash. The third layer. The city buried by war.
“You’re awake.” A young man wearing a robe walked up to me, hobbling with a cane. He had ivory hair and looked to be relatively healthy for a man that was living underground, except for the fact that his left foot would occasionally spasm into pixels. Like a glitch.
“Who are you?” I asked with caution.
He smiled, almost too earnestly. “Don’t worry. I assure you, I’m a loyal disciple.”
Disciple? I must have looked puzzled because he elaborated without prompting.
“So it is true, the Gods have forgotten us,” he said, with a solemn smile, “it’s okay. This isn’t the first time. Someone from your realm had accidentally dropped by here on accident before; they also had no idea of our existence.” He let out a single chuckle. “Divided us pretty good, you know? Some thought it was just that one God that didn’t know, some believed it meant that all of the Gods have forgotten us, and there’s about a million other splintered theories that various people adopted.” He bowed to me. “How may I help you?”
I told him I was looking for you.
“I don’t believe I’m familiar.”
I explained.
He pondered. “It does ring a bell.”
A cloud of orange light approached us from the horizon, accompanied by the sound of rallying anguish. The growling of a wolf echoed in the air again. Gunshots or fireworks? On our cul-de-sac. Remember? I can’t. Clanking pennies in a cup, floods and flames, museums of desecrated corpses. I lost my breath. Were these memories? Flashbacks of my soul desperately clawing to escape my body, internal bleeding that languished me to skin and bone. Kneeling in the middle of a typhoon of piercing eyes and derisive laughter—I drove away from you, looking for a particular medical procedure. Why? You had them too, didn’t you? My brain pulsed against my skull. Was any of that real, or not?
“I hope you find your home,” the man said, waking me up. “But you must run.”
A mob of angry villagers were rushing towards us and the visual triggered a deafening headache that nearly knocked me out. “Come with me,” I told him.
He smiled, still far too earnestly, and shook his head. “Good luck. The place you speak of, it sounds amazing. I’m sure it’s out there.”
I ran, trying to keep my head from bursting, shielding my eyes from the torrent of ghouls. I could hear voices from the past.
“Maybe you should just leave then.”
“Where would I go?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere easier. Somewhere you can be yourself.”
“I don’t think that exists.”
“We were promised it does.”
“Yeah, but, look around.”
“Maybe this just isn’t it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe this isn’t the real Princopus. It doesn’t really match the legends we were told.”
“Well, Princopus has changed. That’s what they say at least.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Huh?”
“I’m saying, it must be somewhere. You should go look for it.”
“You’re not making any sense. We’re in Princopus, right now.”
“I don’t think so. Princopus accepts everyone for who they are.”
“That’s what they say.”
“Besides, not like we can afford to stay around here for much longer. What’s the point of paying these ridiculous prices if it’s not even the real Princopus.”
“I guess so.”
“You’re you, [073]. Never forget that. Regardless of what your body says. Regardless of what anyone says.”
“You really think it’s out there? The real Princopus?”
“I would bet my life on it.”
I kept running until I fell off a cliff.
~~~
I woke up underwater. I could breathe. Or maybe I didn’t need to. Faint hints of moonlight were trickling down like snowflakes. I looked around and made my way to the road lit by streetlights and followed it to the next city. The fourth layer, the city buried by floods. The history of the place was vague. Some say it was an act of war, some say an act of God, and some say that these sorts of things just happened. I hope nothing of the sort happened to you.
A city in ruins. Glass skyscrapers molded in the shapes of incomprehensible geometry, televisions the size of billboards, aerodynamic cars—all lying quietly on the hexagon-tiled ocean floor. The street lights flickered, assortments of fish circled around the bulbs, and there was a persisting eerie sound that I couldn’t shake. With each groggy and exhausting step, inhaling water that tasted like metal, I could feel my body give up. I didn’t think you were around. I spotted silhouettes within the ruined buildings. Faceless—featureless, I could feel their eyes scan me with dreadful confusion. I looked around some more and realized that there were hundreds, all hiding among the rubble. They whispered amongst each other.
“What is… she? Doing here?”
“Shhh, stay away from the window. The storm’s almost here.”
“Thunder grumbled like a hungry beast growing increasingly impatient. Torrents of water ricocheted off the tiled floors like bullets. People took cover and watched debris crash amongst them. Darcy was making pancakes while the radio recited religious passages.”
I kept walking and breathing became increasingly difficult. A vicious growl triggered something and my brain knocked on the walls of my skull again—a splitting headache blurred my senses. I couldn’t tell if the growl was thunder or wolf.
“... And salvation will come to the pious—the divine will ascend their souls from the chains of flesh and dirt alongside their 401(k) investments. The sacrilegious shall—”
“Should have taken up swimming lessons, eh?”
“And spend our weekends in a smelly gym? I don’t think so.”
I fell to my knees, panting. I pressed my palms to my ears and screamed. I could hear all of it. Buzzing neon lights and scattered careless pedestrian chatter underscored the rhythm of blinking stop lights and revving engines as the people sang the tunes of their nightly routines, coalescing in a ballad that celebrated the soul of their city.
“Well, I just don’t get why they keep coming out with new flavors.”
“What?”
“It’s like, they all taste like the same goddamn cookie, you know? What the fuck is Valentine’s flavor even?”
“Uhh, well it’s pink, I guess.”
“So it’s pink flavor?”
“I don’t know. Why are we talking about this?”
“What do you mean? It’s egregious.”
“Right, well, it’s just, we’re all going to die. The city’s going to be flooded. It’s the end of us. It’s the end of history. Everything we’ve ever built, everything we’ve ever learned—no one will hear any of it. All that we’re going through, all the tears and screams—no one will ever hear any of it. Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, and I don’t want to be a downer but it’s just… I don’t know. Please don’t be mad. I really like talking to you and everything.”
“Right. I like talking to you too. So what do you want to talk about?”
“Um.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, there’s really nothing to be sorry about.”
“I just don’t really know—”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“So what about these nail clipper flavored cookies?”
I didn’t know what to do. I could feel the cold tiled ocean floor on my cheek. Bubbles were slowly dripping from the edges of my lips. It all seemed so familiar. Drowning on the floor of our house, their shouting was muffled by the water.
“She’s still your kid, isn’t she?”
“No. He isn’t.”
Words were thrown like glass that shattered on weakened walls. The remnants sank to the floor beside me. Blood dripped up to the surface as I squeezed the shards with my palms. The ticking of the clock pounded on my skull.
“I just… don’t know how we’re going to pay for all this. We can’t stay here.”
The water rushed out of the house, dragging all of us to the sunbaked cul-de-sac. Steam rose as the pavement burned my flesh. I opened my eyes and the wolf stared at mine with its bloodshot eyes. Black smoke leaking from its snout; its growl low and dripping with hunger. It ate me.
~~~
I was floating in darkness—but this was different. It wasn’t the darkness of the night, it wasn’t the darkness of the ocean depths, it wasn’t the darkness of abandon—it was the darkness of nothing. Pure, endless, nothing. The fifth layer: the abyss.
Is this you? It felt familiar. Like I’d known it my whole life. The weightlessness of my limbs, the numbness in my skin, the tiredness in my eyes. I felt content but sad. Resigned to spending eternity in perpetual petrification, smothering any spark of velleity, watching the skies blend together in one long drawn out endless day. Do you remember those? I do. I have trouble remembering sometimes but I remember those. That wasn’t you, right? It wasn’t. It wasn’t.
It wasn’t you when the specters dragged me out of the arcade, when the grass strangled me on the football field, when pink pastel colors bloomed into yellow radiant flowers, when droplets of water dripped on my vertex, when they whispered behind me during the lesson about biology, when the torches lit the roads, when I watched my mother work as a cartographer, when the moon swung like a pendulum on a grandfather clock, when the die moved on its own while I was resting my chin on the desk, when the doctor told me how much it would cost, when the bulbous pulsing rotten flesh poisoned the walls of the house, when I was trapped inside a locker for the entire night, when a herd of workers migrated away with nothing on their backs, when confessions were sold as loans and debts, when the sound of gavels marched along the streets, when I wore a yellow dress for a school play and my best friend said I looked pretty and I did look pretty for the first time in my life and I met up with him after the play and I asked him if I could stay with him that night and all he could do was apologize and we hugged and I poured my soul out to him and I told him that I just couldn’t handle it anymore and he said maybe you should just leave then. That wasn’t you, right?
You’re better than any of that, I know that to be true. I’m going to find you. We’ll grill on the weekends. Read late at night when the moonlight hits the porch at the right angle. The roads will be smooth and we’ll watch headlights from all directions approach and the light will reflect off our idiosyncratic architecture and you’ll glow just like you did in the myths. The nights alight without a flame in sight.
I was falling. I think. I had no frame of reference. But I felt it. In my stomach. I was falling. In the abyss. I could feel it get smaller. Maybe bigger? Does that make sense? I guess not. But I was falling. I could feel it. In my stomach.
~~~
“Drink up.”
I woke up in a cavern. There was an old woman sitting opposite me; there’s a table between us, with a single candle nearly burnt out. Bottles, each from a different era of time, were littered across the cavern. A jar made of clay was on the table between us, along with two clay cups. The woman looked familiar; she was wearing a yellow dress.
“Where am I?” I asked.
The old woman sighed. “I knew you would ask that.”
“Is this the sixth layer?”
She downed the drink like a shot and poured another one. “Who’s to say?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
“Do you get off on being cryptic?”
“I get off on having a peaceful drink.” She pushed my cup closer to me.
“What’s the drink?” I asked.
“Not sure. It tastes horrific though.” She downed another drink and made a face.
“Why do you drink it then?”
She sighed again. “They told me it was good. Maybe it was at one point. I can’t even tell if I used to like it or if it always tasted this bad.”
The old woman, there was something about her. Maybe you would have been able to help. She looked so familiar. Just something about her that screams to me. Something about her that tells me she was there. When the vines cracked the roads to school, when the lake’s reflection showed me who I really was, when snow or ash fell like ash or snow and I cleared it with the windshield wipers as I drove out of town. She was there. I think you would have recognized her.
I looked inside the cup. I could see myself in the drink. Sitting on the hill in your park. Watching you live out your daily life.
“Try it,” the old woman said.
I lifted the cup to my lips and drank.
“And?” The old woman asked.
I answered and stayed for a couple more drinks.
