Moonlit Answers

I take a sip from the coffee that lies in front of me, as rays of moonlight scatter through the windows. The taste of the coffee was the same as back home. You see, Iris used to work at the coffee shop that I frequented; she was welcoming and often had a warm smile. However, I knew that she wanted more from her life than working in that coffee shop.

Her smile was one of a forced nature, just enough to seem truthful, but I knew that deep down inside, she wasn’t happy with the way things were. Yet in this world, her smile seems genuine, almost as if what haunted her in the old world was erased from her body, almost as if it doesn’t exist.

I wonder if the reflections of those around me remember their old life. I pondered to myself, the taste of the coffee dancing on my tongue. The moonlight fully enveloped the small room that we were sitting in, and I could see it interacting with the white highlights in Iris’s hair. She looked at me with a warm smile, one of hope rather than hollowness. She adjusted her glasses that were placed on her face as she looked up at me from her coffee.

“What is it that you want to know?” She asked, looking at me with her pearlescent eyes shining in the moonlight.

“H..how did you know I had questions?” I replied, wondering if everyone here knew about my predicament but me.

“Well, it’s written all over your face, silly, you're staring at the coffee like you're depending on it”, she teased, as a smile overtook her face.

“You sure you have time to answer my questions?” I question the hesitation showing in my voice as my hand clenches tighter on my arm.

Iris reaches her hand out and places it on mine, her eyes telling me to calm down.

“You're not going to burden me with your worries or questions” Her voice was calm, sweet and truthful. Her voice pierced the walls that I had prepared to surround myself in. Her presence was calm, the direct opposite of mine. I wanted to run away, divert my attention, but she stayed there, silent and ready to answer any question that I had.

Where should I start? I wondered to myself, pondering what question should be the one that I should ask first.

With a sweet smile and kind eyes, she said nothing but to me; that was all I needed. I took a deep breath, almost as if preparing myself to face the answers that she was prepared to give me.

“Hey Iris, What’s a Distortion?” I hesitated, bracing for the answer that I would inevitably have to face.

“So that’s where we’re starting”, she said, her soft lips forming around the words.

She went on to explain that a distortion is a person who has recently gained consciousness in this world, and that they are normally easily identifiable by their shapeless magic. She also explained that both this world and the old one exist at the same time, and while we’re here consciously in this world, our subconscious is running our bodies in the old world.

“How does magic work in this world?” I asked, as I’m yet to be able to form magic, I wondered if there was something that I was missing.

Iris smiled at me with a reassuring look in her eyes that said You’ll find it eventually.

“Magic is formed through one’s inner desires. For example, mine is books,” She answered, as white magic began to form around us. “For example, this book is about you”, she continued. The room was bathed in the white light of her magic as a book formed inside of her hand.

As I watched in awe, I realised it all made sense. She had always had a passion for books, constantly reading them besides me on her short breaks. She’d often call me up at random times just so she had someone to tell things to; whether it was about psychology or fictional worlds, she wanted to share them with me.

It was nice that she wanted to share them with me.

Maybe this was what was waiting for her in the old world, I thought to myself, but this question would remain unanswered.

Iris looked at me after she had finished explaining, almost to suggest that I ask another question.

“Who’s the lady in white?” I asked, curious as to whether I was the only person she communicated with.

“The lady in white, it’s hard to explain, but she’s the overseer of this reality. She helps people find their magic and the answers that they're looking for,” She revealed, but one question came to mind.

Why would the overseer of this reality ask me to save them?

Iris could see my face become puzzled with a question, and I could tell that she knew something was up. So before she could ask me anything, I changed the topic of the sentence.

“What about the priest?” I ask, hoping to maybe find out about how he knew about the world.

When hearing the priest, Iris sighs and sits further back inside her chair, almost as if the thought of the priest was enough to sour one’s mood.

“He’s different from most”, she replied, with a look on her face that suggested some unpleasant memories.

“The priest, as I’m sure you know, is the master of mirrors. Mirror is the religion in this world, and its main purpose is to help people come to terms with both who they are in this world and their old self.” She casts her gaze downwards towards her coffee, “but the priest wants something different. I’m not exactly too sure what.” She continues, peering through her glasses.

“There's something more than meets the surface when it comes to that priest, " she continues, almost as if she has some history with this priest. Her face becomes less vibrant, and her eyes seem to lose their sparkle, so I ask another question to change the topic.

“How do I find the shape of my magic?” I ask, reaching out my hand to her, reassuring her that I won’t force her to talk about things she doesn’t want to. She smiles at me, and as she adjusts her glasses, the stars in her eyes begin to return, as if they were always there but hidden under the cloud of darkness.

“Well, you have to know yourself, who you are, your name.”

“Your identity shapes your magic.”

She looks at me, her eyes pulling me in. I feel the weight of the stars in her eyes; they captivate me, and for a moment, I’m lost in her eyes.

“So, who do you want to be?”

“What kind of person do you want to be?”

Her question ripples through my ear, making me stop to take a minute to think. As I start to think about the type of person I want to be, she starts to list the things that make up a person's identity.

“Thoughts, their environment” She continues to list as many as she can think of: “core values, Passions and interests” Each item she lists seems to be something that I can’t quite pinpoint or remember.

She continues to list things, taking breaks only to breathe and take a sip of the lukewarm coffee.

“The way they view the world, their philosophy and worldview.” She stops to think for a second.

“Oh!! And their philosophy.”

She looks at me for a little bit, almost as if staring into my soul. The moonlight was shining through the window and reflecting off the lenses on her glasses.

“Another thing that affects a person's identity is the lenses they see the world through, ” she says. Adjusting her glasses almost to suggest that we all see the world through lenses.

“What do you mean by lenses?” I ask, gesturing to say that I don’t have glasses or contacts.

“Each person sees the world through a different lens, formed by their environment, experience and what they have learned from them. Some have tinted lenses, some have shattered lenses.” She takes a second to recover her breath. “ Their lenses can also be formed by others if they weren’t given the time to create their own.”

She pauses for a moment and looks up at me from the moonlit cup in her hands. The white of her nails was emphasised by the moon.

“The other thing that forms a person's Identity is their name.”

I pause for a moment; a memory of the book from the garden flashes back in my mind.

I look up at her. Silence fills the atmosphere, only to be broken by my question.

“What is my name?” I ask her.

The moonlight hits our faces as we look at each other.

Her lips move, shaped around the name that could make me whole. But all I hear is static, as if the world isn’t ready to let me be real…