In my second semester of graduate school, I tried going to group therapy. It was where I first heard the name Ooladon. 

Group therapy wasn’t my idea. I just wanted help. I was keeping up with my classes, mostly, but I had no friends, no life, and every morning I had to convince myself to wait for the train that would take me to work and not just step onto the tracks and be done with it. 

I’m sorry. Should I mention that? Back then, I didn’t think of that as a suicidal urge, or as anything really. It was just the little back and forth that went on in my head whenever I was on the train platform. As far as I knew, everybody around me was thinking the same thing. Everyone had to make that same choice every day, every week, over and over and over. 

The point is I wasn’t happy. Even I couldn’t avoid that. And I had to walk past the school’s Mental Health Clinic every Tuesday to get to my Accounting 101 class. They had a bunch of cheery posters up, none of which I liked much. The first time I walked past them I shrugged. The fifth I sneered. After the sixth, I decided to give it a try. 

They were friendly, in a professional way. They gave me some papers to fill out, and then after they read the papers they said they had to ask me some questions. After I convinced them I wasn’t going to kill myself that day, they put me in group. 

There were seven of us. Four other girls, one guy, one non-binary person, and Ms. Wagner, the therapist. I already felt weird about the whole thing, but it got worse once I met them all. I and one of the other women were the only two graduate students. Everyone else was a solid four or five years younger. Ms. Wagner said that was okay because we weren’t supposed to talk to each other outside of group. It still made me feel like a space alien.   

The theme of the group was depression. Which, according to their questionnaire, I definitely had. Fair enough, but I don’t know what my depression had to do with anyone else’s. You had Alice talking about how they always felt like they were giving rather than receiving with people, Nova talking about gender, Val, who’d suffered things she didn’t want to talk about as a child, and on and on it went. No one else was anything like me. 

Except maybe Laura. And Laura was the one who mentioned Ooladon.

Laura was the other graduate student, though in a different program, and that wasn’t the only reason she reminded me of myself. She was always the hardest to offer advice to, because her problems were so familiar. If I knew what I was supposed to do to fix them, I wouldn’t be sitting here in the first place. 

It was at the beginning of the session. We all started by going around in a circle and saying what had happened to us that week. It was the part I liked the most, actually. Because even after only a few sessions, I did start caring about the other people. I wanted to know what happened to them. How life was going for them, and whether any of them were getting something out of this.  

That day, she was the third person to talk. Jay was finishing off talking about being in a fight with his mother, the exact fight he was afraid of getting into last week. He shrugged and slumped in the chair the way he always did when he ran out of things to say and attention turned to Laura. 

“I’ve discovered the kindness of Ooladon,” Laura said. 

Most of the group looked confused, but Ms. Wagner didn’t. She looked angry. “We don’t talk about that kind of thing here.” 

Laura stared back. There was a blankness to that stare that I recognized too well. It was the way you looked at someone when you felt numb inside. 

“I’m going to need an apology from you,” said Ms. Wagner. “I empathize with what you’re feeling, but the words you say in this space can hurt your fellow members.” 

Laura sat in the blue plastic chair and rocked backwards and forwards, just slightly. “There’s no harm in Ooladon. There is only kindness.” 

“I told you that we don’t mention that name in this space,” she snapped. She had a look of anger verging on disgust that I had never imagined on her before. “I’ll give you one last chance to apologize and then I’ll ask you to leave this room.” 

“There is only kindness in Ooladon. There is only kindness in Oola-”

“Get out!” the therapist screamed. “If you don’t do it of your own will, I will call security to have you escorted out by force!” 

Laura sat perfectly silent for a few seconds, then stood up and walked out the door of the room. She walked slowly, with a tiredness that was much more than physical. But at the same time, her face had a determination to it. She wasn’t just leaving. She had somewhere else to go. 

The rest of us sat quietly in our chairs. You could hear the ticking of the clock that hung over the blackboard. Tick tick tick tick tick. 

I spoke up, finally, because it felt like somebody had to. “I’m sorry, I’m a little lost. What is … the thing she was talking about? And why aren’t we allowed to say it?” 

Samantha spoke up. “It’s sort of an urban legend thing? About these abandoned-” 

Ms. Wagner cut her off, another thing I’d never seen her do before today. “Ooladon is a made-up word for people who don’t want to do the work of getting better. It doesn’t mean anything, except that the person who’s using it is giving up on themselves. And that’s not what you want to do, is it? Give up?” 

A few people murmured agreement, but mostly there was just silence. That was a talent that Ms. Wagner had. She could make the whole group go silent. Even the most shocking revelations from one of us patients couldn’t make that happen. 

The room was still in shock at hearing Ms. Wagner, normally the portrait of calm, screaming at someone to get out. One glance at Val told you that she wasn’t speaking again today, and she probably wasn’t the only one. 

As for me, I had my eye on Samantha. She had recognized the name. As far as I could tell, she was the only one who had, other than the therapist. 

I felt a little jealous of Samantha. She was a high achiever, the kind of student that I could only dream of being. She got straight A’s in all of her classes, at least, until this semester. She didn’t speak much, but when she did, she talked about feeling lonely and empty. She also had a lot of fears about being special and if she really was, but I knew what it was like to feel lonely and empty. 

“Now,” Ms. Wagner said. “Was there anyone who didn’t get to share about their week?” 

*     *     *
As strange as all that was, I might still have forgotten about Ooladon if that had been all. While I was on the train back to my apartment, I tried a couple of spellings of it on the internet. I even tried the phrase Laura had chanted. There is only kindness in Ooladon. Nothing. Some local thing then. A student prank or something like that. 

What stuck with me more than Ms. Wagner’s anger was the way Laura had said it. Especially at the end, when she was just repeating that one sentence. There was an eerie calm to her voice, a dreaminess almost. 

As tired and numb as she had also been, when she said those words, she seemed perfectly at peace. The kind of peace I didn’t know people like me could find. 

Of course, it was just a few words. People say things funny all the time. But it still stuck with me. If I tried, I could almost hear it. 

There is only kindness in Ooladon. 

When it came time for therapy the next week, I was looking forward to seeing her. I wanted to know what that weird little chant had meant to her. And if she decided not to answer that, I at least wanted to know if she was okay. 

She wasn’t there. 

“All right,” said Mrs. Wagner, as I sat down. “I think that’s everyone.  Does someone want to start with something that happened in their life this week?” 

I raised my hand. You weren’t supposed to raise your hand, but I almost always did. “Um, what about Laura? Is she not going to be here?” 

Mrs. Wagner looked at me with that expression that was at the same time sympathetic and judging. “Did you not hear about Laura?” 

“She left the school,” said Samantha. “Just didn’t show up for classes on Friday.” 

The day after the session. She had decided to leave school the same day the therapist had kicked her out of the group. “But she’s okay? Like, she went home, or-” 

“She’s fine,” said Mrs. Wagner. “Now, let’s get started, shall we? Jay, would you like to go first?” 

I tried to catch Samantha’s eye, but she didn’t notice. That made sense. There was no reason she would associate me with Laura just because I did. 

And besides, it could all be a coincidence. Maybe Ooladon was some nonsense that she’d only gotten into because she was having a mental health crisis, and that crisis was why she left the school. It was obvious, logical, simple, and didn’t feel right at all. 

First, there was the way Ms. Wagner reacted. She wasn’t puzzled or sympathetic. She was furious. As if Samantha was talking about something very real and very dangerous. 

But really, it was just the way Laura said it. That dreamy, calm lilt. As if she’d really found something that was all kindness. Something named Ooladon. 

You weren’t supposed to talk to anyone in the group outside of the group. But there was no way around it. I had to. Samantha knew what Ooladon was and Ooladon was something important. I didn’t know what it was yet, but I knew it mattered. 

“I’m afraid that’s all we have time for this week,” Ms. Wagner announced, finally. “Have a good day, and I’ll see you all next week.” 

I timed getting my things together and walking out the door to match Samantha as closely as possible. As soon as we were out in the hallway and the door was closed behind us, I whispered her name. 

She turned around. She obviously had a class coming up, because she was carrying a notebook and a binder, but when she saw the expression on my face, she nodded and gestured towards the bathroom. 

I followed her inside and she turned around to face me. “It’s about Laura, isn’t it?” 

“Yes. And that thing she was talking about last session. I just want to understand.” 

“I’m going tonight,” she said, and looked me dead in the eyes. There was that numbness again. “I’ve got all my affairs in order and I’m ready. Do you want to join me?” 

“What do you mean you’ve got your affairs in order? What is Ooladon?” 

“You’ve been trying so hard, haven’t you? To get better, to be different. All of that. You’re tired of it, aren’t you?” 

It wasn’t as strong, but I could hear that same calm, dreamy tone in her voice. It was as if she had just started down the path that Laura had nearly reached the end of. “Ooladon is the one you’re afraid of,” she continued.  “But you don’t have to be. Meet me at 9:00. In front of this building.” 

Without waiting for an answer, she walked to the door. But before going out, she paused and turned back. “I’m glad that you’re coming with me,” she said, and disappeared. 

I didn’t even have to think about the question to know. I would be there that night to meet her. I just would.  

*     *     *
I arrived about five minutes late, and she was waiting. It was a cold night and the sun had already gone down. Students were wandering around and so were random adults. Samantha smiled when she saw me, but it was a fake smile, a polite one. Maybe she was really happy to see me, but she was too tired to show it. 

Without even saying hi, she started walking south, away from campus. I had to jog a few steps to keep up with her. 

“You really don’t know anything about Ooladon, do you?” she asked, suddenly, as we came to the edge of the curb. 

“No,” I said. “Nothing.” 

“I was the same way just a few days ago. All I knew was that people talked about Ooladon and that it had something to do with the building on Peel Street.” 

I didn’t know what building Samantha meant, but Peel Street wasn’t far from here. I knew basically where we would be going at least. 

“What is it? Or who?” 

Samantha walked silently for a moment. I couldn’t tell if she was thinking the question over, or just ignoring me.  

“Have you ever felt like you need to do something just to be enough? That you have to be nice enough or get a certain grade or make enough money just to give yourself a reason?” 

I felt a swirling in my stomach. “I think everyone feels that way sometimes.” 

“Yes, exactly! Everybody feels that way! They do! But you feel it all the time. You feel it all the time and you can’t keep up with it.” 

The swirling in my stomach again. “I know the feeling you’re talking about.” 

“What do you think something would have to be to never have that feeling? To exist entirely for itself, and to need no reason but to continue?” 

Peel Street had to be nearby, but I didn’t recognize the streets we were walking down. They were quiet and unfriendly, with rows of dimmed windows staring down at them like closed eyes. “I don’t know,” I said. “Not human, I think.” 

“You’re right,” said Samantha, dreamily. “That’s the first thing to know about Ooladon.” 

We came around a corner, and Samantha came to a stop. There was a fence, covered in tarps and occasional signs warning people to stay back. The tarp was tattered and discolored. It had obviously been there a very long time, and the building behind it had no signs of construction. Just some broken windows and painted scrawls. 

“There are things in this world that don’t need permission from anything, much less humans,” Samantha said, and I couldn’t help but notice how empty her eyes looked. Was she happy to have me with her, or did she just need someone to distract her? 

“What about the kindness? What did that mean?” 

Samantha took a corner of the fence and lifted it up. “It’s waiting to show it to you.” 

After a glance to make sure no one was watching, I ducked through the fence and Samantha followed. The ground here had been leveled, but then left that way long enough for weeds to overgrow it. In the center of the flat mess of thorns and runners, what must have been an office building rose up at least eight or nine stories tall. 

The building itself was like a large, grey skeleton. Every bit of it was covered in decay, from the shattered glass to the orange and green patches of lichen on the walls. Graffiti artists had tried to turn it into a canvas, but the ugly thing still hung over all their works, heavy and thick and dead. 

It wasn’t a place for anything human. Only for something like what Samantha had described. Something old and gnarled and alone. 

“You’ll understand soon,” said Samantha, and the words had the same chantlike quality as Laura’s about the kindness of Ooladon. And yet, I followed. She pushed the door open without turning the handle and I entered. 

The door opened into a dark and empty room with a large wooden desk that indicated it had probably been a lobby of some kind once. Rocks, bottles, and various broken pieces of other things were spread around the room. The ceiling had once had tiles, but almost all of them were either broken or gone. 

But none of that was what really struck me about the room. The first thing I noticed was an impression, one that I can’t easily justify. The building no longer felt like a human space. It was large enough that people could walk through it, but it wasn’t made for them. People were unwelcome. 

“You can feel it,” Samantha said. “You can tell you’re in its home.” 

“Is Laura here?” I asked. “Is she okay?” 

“This way. You’ll understand soon.” She walked towards a hallway next to the desk. The light didn’t reach into it all, and when she stood in front of it, I could barely make her out from the background. I walked unsteadily towards her. 

I could just make out her outline standing near one of several doors. My footsteps crunched on something I couldn’t see as I got closer. 

She pulled the door open. “Step through there. Once you meet it, you’ll understand.” 

There was something in the room, something large that hung down from the ceiling. As I walked into the room, it moved, as if it was turning towards me. The moment it did, I felt my heart pounding, faster and faster. The world became a flat screen that I was falling away from. The pounding was too loud and too fast to keep up with. 

All of my thoughts fled away from me except one, which repeated over and over.

There is only kindness in Ooladon. 

*     *     *
I woke up in the back of an immense room. Samantha was in front of me. 

“Do you understand?” she asked. “Do you?” 

And I did. Ooladon had seen me and I had seen it. 

“Where are we?” 

“It’s time for the offering,” she said. “I’ve been preparing for this moment all week. That’s why I brought you. I wanted you to join me.” 

And I understood that too. Ooladon was infinitely kind. It could accept any person, just as they were, and ask nothing more from them. But it was also infinitely hungry. Ooladon stretched as high as this building and who knows how deep into the earth. Its mouth was always open for new offerings. Ooladon’s kindness was its hunger. 

And when you truly understood, there was nothing fearful in that. It is fearful to be eaten by a bear, because what is a bear to deserve life more than you? But Ooladon was absolute. It was and would always be. To become food for Ooladon, to be swallowed into its mouth, was as deep and meaningful a triumph as any human could ever hope to achieve. 

It was enough for Laura. It was enough for Samantha. It could be enough for me. 

Samantha took my hand and gently lifted me up. 

“Come with me,” she said. “I’ll show you how.” 

You probably think that Ooladon had hypnotized me, or changed my thoughts somehow. But it wasn’t so simple. It had shown itself to me, fully. I understood it and its kindness entirely. It was as if I could choose to see myself from my own point of view or from its. And I had never understood myself as well as I understood Ooladon in that moment. 

Samantha walked forward, and I realized the room was not empty. There were rows upon rows of chairs, and each one had someone sitting in them. The people in the chairs were mostly older people, and well-dressed. They were deathly quiet, but watched both of us intently. 

“This is our moment,” said Samantha. “Ooladon has accepted us. They’re here to celebrate that with us.”  

Seated near one of the rows I recognized Ms. Wagner. She was looking at me with beaming pride. Finally, she seemed to be saying, you found a place for yourself. Finally, you figured yourself out. 

And in front of all of this was the mouth. 

An enormous hole had been carved in the back of the wall in order to reveal the yawning space that was the mouth of Ooladon. Its top was near the ceiling, and I knew that if I looked for its bottom, I would grow dizzy. Every inch of the great mouth was covered with muscles and teeth. If the mouth had lips or edges around it, they weren’t visible. All we saw was an endless, tooth-covered maw. 

Samantha stepped up to the edge of the mouth. “You will follow me, won’t you? It would mean so much not to be alone.” 

She stared directly into my eyes and stood waiting. And I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t meet that stare. 

She waited for a few seconds, then sighed and turned back around. The crowd grew tense. This was the moment they had come for. 

I should stop her, I thought to myself. But I didn’t. I just watched, with the rest of the crowd.

She stretched her foot out, took a breath, and fell into the mouth. 

The whole mouth writhed, pulling her down into itself. And then, it relaxed. 

She was gone. 

The audience’s attention turned to me. I faced them. And then I faced the mouth. 

But I’m alive. 

I didn’t leap into Ooladon’s stomach. I turned around and I walked out, back into the hallway, and then out into the world. The crowd watched me, but they didn’t stop me. 

“She’ll come back again,” I heard one of them whispering. 

They might be right. I don’t think I’m some miraculous hero for walking away. I don’t believe I’m any stronger or wiser than Laura or Samantha or anyone else who stepped into that mouth. People run away from Ooladon every day. And every day, they change their minds and come back.   

I’ve thought about going back to that building on Peel almost every day since I left it. I fantasize for hours about returning to the one thing that ever welcomed me entirely. The one thing that ever called itself worthy of accepting my total and complete sacrifice. If I lived closer, I might have done it by now. 

And yet, I’m alive. 

Why did I walk away? Why haven’t I returned to finish the deed? The answer is Samantha. The way she looked at me just before she fell into the mouth. Whenever I dream of Ooladon, I see her face, and a part of me turns away again.  

Because Ooladon wasn’t enough for her. The mouth wasn’t good enough. She also wanted someone to share it with. 

And I wonder what would have happened if I had reached out to her. If I had done anything. 

But I didn’t. I just stood there, quietly, while she fell. 

I didn’t want anything, but I was changed. I no longer wanted to enter Ooladon. I didn’t want anything except to not be alone. To be back in group, or in class, or anywhere at all, as long as there was someone with me. Someone human. Someone alive. 

It’s the one thing Ooladon can’t give me. So it’s what I have to hold onto every day, no matter how hard it is. 

Because even today, I remember the truth.  There is only kindness in Ooladon.