the unnameable
[ the boy, the elephant, the unnameable & the narrator]

you are not to speak her name, and you are not to acknowledge her presence, for she is always there but she is unnameable. she has risen from the sea with an elephant of ten tusks and seven heads. she has tamed this beast and calls it her own. you worship her for her victory, and fear her for her elephant. to welcome her is to succumb to her influence. she will surround you and suffocate you. at night, when you are sleeping, she searches for more. more filth
and more evil, too much is never enough. she lives in the shadows of all cowards, liars and cheaters. they foolishly think they have tamed her, that they have channelled her energy. they take the elephant for a walk when they need to, when it serves them. when it serves her.

my eyes can't see anything in the dark, but there is an elephant standing somewhere in this room, i am sure. i can hear it breathing. it is telling me everything that we don't remember. can you hear it? it is telling me what happened here, in this room, in my head, in your head. i don't remember what you forget, but this elephant does and it is telling me things. why can't we see this elephant, why can't we turn on the light, at least open the curtain. why do we have to live here, in the dark, staring at the darkness. at each other.

the elephant tells me that everything is important, that what happened yesterday is today. it tells me he has not just appeared in this room, by some magic. this fucking elephant has been living in this room since it was a calf. it has grown up in this room, i have been feeding it. have you? it has been living, breathing and remembering this room this whole time! i tell you this because the elephant told me, and you don't believe me. you cannot see it so refuse to believe it is here. ask it yourself! now i know it is here, it is always standing over me, blocking me out with its shadow. i hope the elephant tramples on you when you are sleeping. or even when you are awake, there is no difference; your eyes are always closed anyway.

now, the elephant has grown too big to leave through the door. we will be stuck here forever. in the dark. with this elephant that you refuse to hear. and you, you think i have grown boring, spent, but it's not me- it's the elephant.
in secret, he takes freezing cold baths- dipping under and closing his eyes he likes to imagine he has been thrown into the atlantic while lying in a wheelbarrow. as the sea gets colder and darker, his pores get tighter and his hair harder. soon his skin pulls taut across his bones and the water starts to freeze his nose and throat. his body shrinks under the pressure, he feels tiny and beautiful. something hard and shiny slips over his neck.
it is a gloved hand, and a voice begins to talk to him. she is telling him that the elephant is looking for him, and he grows unhappy. the elephant thinks he has tried to escape, she says. he says he hasn't tried to escape he has escaped. no
he hasn't, she says. no he hasn't, says the elephant.

now, this room, it is a lift of glass and metal. the elephant has grown so fat and heavy it is starting to pull us downwards, and i am looking out the window, at the black blue sea, frothing, whirling and throwing itself violently over black round rocks. if we were in the sea, we would die. suddenly, the wind and storm gets worse. the lift is thrown into the sea, and as the first corner hits we begin to be submerged. if the glass hits a rock the lift will flood and we will drown. it is dark, blue, suffocating and cold. we could try to escape but we are probably safer inside the lift. soon we hit the ocean floor, me, you and the elephant. i have taken you with me.

the lift sparks off a rock and lights up the shapeless sea and the black lift. he finally sees the elephant, with its ten tusks and seven heads, and he sees her standing beside it, controlling it. he wishes he hadn't fed it for so long, but it is not up to him now, it is up to her.