Young Writers Society

The Wanderer was a strange being. She concluded that the only reason she had been put on this earth was to wander, never finding her place, until the very day she perished. And she decided that if she was wrong, at least she had some sort of purpose in her life, because all she had ever known was traversing through unknown territories.

The Wanderer could not tell you how long she had been traveling. Certainly, she could not tell you why she was traveling. And there was no question that she could not recall a life before the one she lived now; the one in which she walked towards eternity.

As much as she despised the life she had been given, she knew she had to keep going. There was a voice deep in her mind, or possibly her heart, that told her to keep going, no matter the circumstance. No matter if she was tired, or hungry, or bored, or wanted to give up, that voice told her to keep going, step, by step, by step.

The Wanderer sometimes wondered if she once had a different life. Because, surely, this could not be the only thing out there. Surely, a life with no clear purpose could not be the life she had to endure. Surely, some all-powerful being could give her a life of meaning.

The strangest thing about her travels, however, was not that she couldn’t remember her own name, nor was it the impossibly heavy pack that she could not take off, no matter how hard she tried. Rather, it was that she had never seen another traveler in her journeys. Not once did she come across another like her. The Wanderer simply presumed that she was the only one of her kind, the only wanderer to ever walk these strange lands.

And then came the day when The Wanderer stumbled across something new. Not new in the sense of new scenery, but new in the sense of something out of the ordinary; something she had never seen before.

The day was old when she met him. The sun dipped into the sandy horizon, preparing for a long slumber. At first, The Wanderer doubted her eyes. She was finally succumbing to the wildness of the nature she often passed. She was going insane, seeing things that weren’t there, wishing for a future she could not have.

But as she approached this strange figure, she saw that he resembled her in a way that made The Wanderer wonder if they were the same. He waved with a hand that looked like her own and held a smile that she had seen in her own reflection as she passed by rivers. Granted, his smile seemed much whiter and brighter than hers had ever been.

He held himself with such dignity that The Wanderer wanted to shrink back against his presence, to turn around for fear that he would look down upon her sorry self. But that voice in her mind, or possibly in her heart, played its tune and urged her forward.

Keep going, it said. Keep going, for you will reach your destination soon.

The Wanderer often wanted to silence that voice. It had told her that she would soon finish her journey since the beginning of her existence.

As The Wanderer got close enough to the boy to be able to shout and hear his voice, he started to approach her, as well. At least he was kind enough to meet her in the middle, even if she had been traveling much farther than he had.

The stranger wore a gray suit that looked entirely uncomfortable in the scorching heat of the desert. The Wanderer noticed that nearly everything about him was gray, save for his golden eyes. Even his pale skin seemed ashen compared to the tan sand beneath her shoes.

“Hello!” the stranger said from afar. He raised his hand in greeting.

“Hello,” The Wanderer replied apprehensively.

“Quite a lovely day, isn’t it?” the stranger kept a smile plastered on his face.

“I would like to disagree.”

The stranger blinked at The Wanderer before repeating, “Quite a lovely day, isn’t it?” He didn’t leave any room for a response, though, because he continued on. “I am pleased to meet you, Wanderer. I have been traveling without another being in sight for quite some time now.”

The Wanderer was so astounded that she nearly ran to the stranger to hug him. She had finally found another traveler. But something was still amiss.

“I never told you who I was,” she slowly realized.

And The Wanderer noticed something in the stranger’s eyes, then. Something dark and malicious, even as he spoke with kind words coated in sugar. Something in his eyes that set the two strangers apart.

The boy’s smile finally fell, and along with it fell the sun. It disappeared beyond the earth, swallowed by the muted colors of dusk. Nightfall awakened slowly, encasing the two travelers in a kaleidoscopic dome.

“Well, I suppose you’ve got me all figured out. You’re quite clever, aren’t you, Wanderer?”

“I simply noticed—“

“Alright, fine! I’ll tell you who I am!” the stranger interrupted, holding up a hand to stop The Wanderer from continuing. “I am Gloom! I am here to bring you sadness, loneliness, and tears, so that they may be released to where they belong.”

“Why would I want that?”

“So that you may move forward with the lightness of a feather, gliding effortlessly through your journey.” Gloom waved his arms in an arch as if drawing a rainbow with his hands. “It is the only way of continuing forward, is it not?”

“I would beg to differ.” The Wanderer moved to step past Gloom, but he was faster.

“I would beg to differ!” Gloom’s dramatic tone carried across the air, splashing the sandy landscape with color. “The only way you can continue on is if you face me. That’s the rule!”

The Wanderer crossed her arms and glared at Gloom. “And who was it that created this rule?”

“You!” Gloom smiled.

The Wanderer sputtered in disbelief. “Me?”

“Yes! You make all the rules of this place, do you not?”

“If I could make the rules, I would leave this place at once.”

“Where would you choose to be, then?”

The Wanderer had no response. Gloom raised a brow, and The Wanderer thought. For many moments, the only sound that filled the night was the two travelers’ own breath. Still, she could not respond.

“As I said, you make the rules here.”

“I have a new rule, then.” The Wanderer lifted her chin. “You must leave me be.”

Gloom sucked in a breath. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Rules cannot be changed once they’ve been created. And it seems this rule was created long, long ago, even if you were not aware.”

The Wanderer stayed silent. “Long, long ago,” Gloom had said. How much time had passed between the creation of this rule and now? Had The Wanderer created her own prison? Had she been the all-knowing being that forced this terrible reality upon herself? Either way, The Wanderer still had to deal with this pesky Gloom.

“Alright, fine. What must I do?”

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind, Darling.”

The Wanderer cringed at the word “darling.” The Wanderer had already seen first-hand what a dramatic Gloom could be, but this just seemed absurd. What could Gloom possibly gain from the Wanderer talking to him?

“And what if I refuse?”

“You cannot move on until you get past me. And to do that, you must bring light to the gloom that is troubling you.”

“Well, it seems you are the gloom that is troubling me, and you seem to be very well-lit on your own!” The Wanderer huffed.

“Oh, Wanderer, there is no need to resist. Think of me as a friend! Someone you can share your life story with! Someone to lean your head on! Someone to hold you when you cry!”

The Wanderer gave Gloom an incredulous look. “Well, I’ve gone without a ‘friend’ as you so describe for my entire life. I do not intend to rely on such a person as you say I must.”

Gloom sighed and crossed his arms. “Well, you seem to be quite the difficult person, Wanderer. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No one’s ever told me anything, Gloom. It just so happens that you’re the first being I’ve encountered who has spoken to me.”

Gloom’s face lit up. “You’re being serious? This is so exciting! I’ve never been the first one! Normally, travelers run into Despair first. Or sometimes, Defeat. No wonder your spirits are so high.”

“Despair? Defeat? What are you on about?” The Wanderer questioned. Gloom, if anything, was giving the Wanderer more questions than helping her be “light as a feather.”

“Oh, my apologies, Darling. It seems I’ve shared too much.” Gloom gave a sheepish smile.

“Well, in any case, I’d rather not speak with you anymore, Gloom. I’ll be going now, thank you very much.” The Wanderer brushed past Gloom, lifting her chin in defiance.

“It seems you don’t quite understand.” Gloom’s voice was suddenly beside The Wanderer, and when she turned, his body was beside her, too. “You cannot pass me without speaking to me. I’ll be with you for as long as it takes for you to shatter.”

Gloom’s previous cheery face had turned to one of warning. He was right, The Wanderer did not understand, but that did not stop her from continuing her journey.

As the days went on, The Wanderer continued her walk. They traveled for many many days, through many, many landscapes. And every passing day, Gloom weighed heavier on her. Not only was he constantly draped across her shoulders, complaining and whining about the treacherous path, but his mere presence was a reminder of the things she did not know, the things that worried and burdened her the most.

Walking became a challenge. Breathing was a labor. Continuing was impossible. And that voice deep in her mind, or possibly her heart, had vanished. As much as she hated it, the voice often kept her going, whispering assurances and encouragement.

And then came the day she finally broke, just as Gloom had said she would. She could not continue on, not with Gloom always lingering, always there to drag her down, always there to pester and prod and provoke her.

So, she collapsed to the ground, where the grass was cool and refreshing and light. And she watered the grass with her tears. Surely, the plants would thank her for her generous offer.

She had forgotten Gloom was there when she fell, but remembered him again when he picked her up and held her. No longer was she in a pool of self-pity, but in arms that somehow cared for her.

“I can’t keep going on, Gloom,” she sobbed. “Not with the uncertainty of the future, not with you weighing me down, and certainly not with knowing of Despair and Defeat. If I have been belittled this much by the likes of you, I cannot imagine facing anyone more cruel.”

Despite her biting words, Gloom simply smiled and held her. He held her until her sobs turned into silent tears, and again until they were dry. The Wanderer did not resist Gloom this time, just let herself be sad and angry and hurt.

“You have done well, Wanderer. I am a pressing thing that gets close until you cannot bear it. I am glad you did not meet Defeat today. I must go now, for you have finally spoken to me.”

“But where will you go?” The Wanderer croaked, her throat scorched from violent sobs.

“Don’t fret, Darling, I’ll be back again when you need me.”

And with that, Gloom faded into a mere memory. His presence lingered in The Wanderer’s mind, like a friend that she could lean on.

Despite all the gloom he had caused, Gloom had been right from the beginning. The Wanderer had released her burdens back to where they belonged. Her pack felt lighter, her steps more sure, her breath easier.

That was the first day in the entirety of her life that The Wanderer truly wanted to continue her journey. And so she told herself, “You have done well, Wanderer.”