A Beautiful Darkness: Chapter One

A Story by B. A. May

Prologue

Many people are born in the light. They radiate love, joy, and life to everyone around them. They are a shimmering flicker that beckons all to come and behold. They are the chosen ones, brought to this world as gifts of kindness and radiance. They are the positivity in the world that make others glad to be alive. It is people like them that keep the world bright with less fear of the unknown or beyond. These people allow life in its present form bring them joy rather than worry about the future. They truly understand the words, “Live in the moment and good shall come.”

Not everyone is born with such light. Some are born with a painful, persisting darkness that clouds their life and soul. It reaches out beyond them, poisoning the happiness of all in its presence, making everything feel hopeless and dim. It separates them from others, creating isolation and misunderstanding. The cruelty of wanting to be happy but being so far from it while pain is nearby, a nurturing aid. The cringing aching in the pits of darkness caressing deep seeded fears, hallowing hope.

The darkness makes every part of yourself seem to disappear and is instead replaced with an intense negativity. It's painful and crippling. Any will you have to move and to breathe is taken away. Everything that meant anything to you is no longer important. You devote yourself to the darkness in order to be rid of it. Yet something within longs for the familiar ache, understanding the lack of uncertainty is not better than the abuse taken. Yet, there is seemingly no escape, and the poignant feelings permeate your soul consuming everything around it, even the light.

However, not all light is consumed by the darkness. Some shine so bright they brighten the paths ahead through the fog. They make what’s broken whole again. When a single flicker of light, hope, shines through the dark it can move your heart and make it so all you want to do is reach it, capture it, and keep it with you forever. It becomes a beacon, a symbol for something more. All the while you’re hoping it will take you toward salvation. To something more, something worth living for, a place without pain and the never ending, consuming darkness.

I'm waiting for my flicker of light. I want to find it so it can take me away from this empty darkness that clouds my mind, my heart, and my dreams.

Chapter One

I understood many people found purpose in life by simply existing. I didn’t. I was an all-around plain person. My daily life consisted of an unfulfilling and mundane routine. I woke up, went to class or stayed home on days off. I ended up doing various random things to entertain myself, painting, writing, crocheting, music, and so on. I was never exceptional. I did just enough each day so I could survive and keep my sanity. I didn’t have dreams or desires, I had hobbies, but none were driving enough to make me want to dedicate myself to them. I finished high school with “exceptional” results, the top of my class on paper, while also being an active member of several clubs. A seemingly model student. I kept taking on new and different roles seeking some sort of excitement but came up disappointed each time.

My appearance wasn’t inspiring. I was considered, “stringy” my muscle mass equated to nothing which wouldn’t have mattered, but my slightly above average height of 5,6’ left me seeming oddly proportioned. My hair was an unmanageable mop of brown curls. They bounded around in different lengths, different sized loops. They managed to tickle my shoulder when left alone, but I was sure if I straightened my hair, it would have reached my hips. I had long ago abandoned taming the beast and lived in a sort of truce with it, if we stay out of each other’s way, we’re okay.

I had black eyes, not brown, not hazel, just plain black. Some people considered them unnerving, like I was death staring at them. Others thought I had fake contacts in to attract attention. My nose was straight, plumping out slightly at the ends, I was self-conscious about it. I felt like it made me look piggish. My lips had a natural contour that I secretly admired. I felt like maybe they looked like a model’s would, but I dared not voice that thought out loud. I was too busy feeling like I had to fight to fit in with those around me just to be left alone. Although, I never I succeeded.

I couldn’t love or find interest in anything I took on or pursued. Each goal I completed left me with a sense of emptiness. Once I had finished my mandatory education, I thought attending college would be a way of finding out what I wanted to do with my life, but all it ended up becoming was another routine to follow. After a while I became prone to sudden and severe anxiety attacks. Any time I had my thoughts to myself I began to panic. Hardly a moment went by without this sinking, sickening feeling taking over. Each breath I took felt like a vortex consuming me and anything positive in my life.

Emptiness, bleak, worthless, my days passed one after another, having no goals to make me strive and thrive, doing absolutely nothing considered important or worth the time I spent on this planet. All I could see was the waste of potential I had become. The crippling, unbearable feelings brought out the ugly thoughts within.

“Why am I alive?”

“What’s my purpose?”

“What’s the point of it all”

“How can I stop the pain?”

“What can I do?”

“How should I do it?”

“Will it help me?”

“Should I give up?”

I asked myself these questions over and over, but I didn’t know. All I knew was I could not live like that any longer. I was sick of it, no longer capable of taking in the pain every day. I wished to do something, anything. Become someone. Or leave. Just be rid of all the suffocating, encompassing pain and apathy I felt daily. Now, I never considered myself under the label my generation called, “Emo,” but I certainly was nowhere near being the bright eyed, bubbly girl most people expect. Not that it matters.

Human beings are so simple. They live for love, they live for passion, and they live for enjoyment. They can be content with a routine, living in a rut if they have something to look forward to. Despite struggling to achieve what it is they want most, they would do any and everything in their power to succeed.

Some would go so far that they became monsters. They started going in a direction entirely different from their original goal. Even if they achieve it, they became greedy for more. Then there are people who have nothing but each other in life and still smiled, living happily every day. They were thankful for all they had, like family and friends that support them. I couldn’t relate to any of them. I didn’t have a family, a goal, or people in my life close enough to be called my friends. I was alone without anything to make me feel grateful for life or anyone that made me wish to strive forward.

I welcomed anything that could remove the crippling, bleak feeling deep within me. I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be taken away from this misery. I no longer cared if it was harmful or dangerous, I just wanted to feel something else, something other than this consuming, suffocating anxiety before I completely gave up. I’d been driven in a corner with no escape. I needed help and yet I had no one to reach out to because no one understood me. Not anymore.

It was just my father and myself for most of my early memories. I didn’t remember much, the things I did were small and mundane. The way he called for me when he was mad or how he would point out the stars to me every night because he believed in the knowledge they shared. I remember when he would make me breakfast or burn our dinner because he was not meant to be a chef, although he tried. They were simple, happy memories. Unfortunately, when I was eight, he passed in an accident and then it was just me. I ended up in the system until I was of age, after that I left and didn’t looked back. I never made friends, I only had shallow or negative relationships with the people around me.

I seemed to lack what it took to make a true connection with other people. Watching everyone who surrounded me, seeing them with each other a smile on their faces as if every problem in the world did not matter because they weren't alone. It opened a hole inside my heart. Even if it was my fault that I could never connect with another human being properly, it still hurt. It's not that I didn't try. I did the best I could, but it was never enough. Watching each person walk away one by one, they said the same things to me.

"You closed your heart off."

"It's like you never wanted me here in the first place,"

"You only went along with what I wanted,”

"You are fake."

If I was fake, what was real? What was right? What was wrong? What did I do, what did I have to do? Why couldn't they see I only tried, why couldn't they believe I only wanted to make them happy because it meant something to me? Was that even what I was truly trying to do? Was there really nothing substantial about me? Why didn’t I have someone who understood me? Why didn’t I have a dream or goal like everyone else? Why was living so empty? Why was I constantly so unhappy? Why did I hate my own existence?

“Should I just stay here? Is there a point?”

“Should I keep breathing when I’m worth nothing?”

My mind was spinning with unanswered questions. It felt like they were trying to rip themselves from my body with gnarled claws. I wanted to scream, to shout.

"Shut up.”

Calm, and a little harsh, the unfamiliar voice pierced through my muddled mind, pulling me to reality. My eye's snapped open, darkness assaulted my vision. Everything around me seemed hazy. Confused, I lifted my head from the stiff pillow I was resting on, fighting back a wave of nausea at the sudden movement. I leaned up, hanging my head slightly, trying to adjust to the waking world. Waiting for my eyes to adjust, clenching and unclenching my numb hands, I took a glance around the bedroom. I was searching for the source of the voice I believed I heard as if my dreams could manifest themselves in my home.

“Ridiculous.” I scoffed quietly, my voice sounding foreign and uneasy through the silence.

There was hardly anything in the room. There was the mattress I slept on in the far-right corner, the crumpled form of my grey blanket was tossed to the floor beside it. I tended to overheat at night. I had neither want, nor need for a bedframe. I considered it an unnecessary luxury and I had little desire to own more than I needed. I did have a desk beside me, cluttered with various papers and pens, a lamp, clock, and a cup of water from the prior evening. I had a nasty habit of leaving cups to stagnate.

A folding metal chair, half pulled out, casted a looming shadow over me. Any other night, it would have been harmless, but that night it felt like the shadow was a flimsy fingered creature trying to pluck me from my bed. There was a single window in the room, half covered with a half-torn moss green ‘curtain’ which simply was a discarded blanket from a thrift store.

I had a small, light wood dresser that stood in the corner of the room opposite where I was sitting beside the door. With only two drawers, it would probably sooner be considered a nightstand, but I didn’t have much need for more than the two. There weren’t any closets or balconies in the room. It was a small space, meant to be an office. Although cramped, it filled all my needs and to me, it was perfect.

I tilted my head and moved my bangs out of my eyes when a quiet, muffled thud resounded against the other side of the desk. I glanced over, my heart jumping into my throat from shock. My gaze was glued to the spot I thought I heard the noise from. I held still, my breath caught in my throat, my heart thudding mercilessly against my chest. I dared not move for the preternatural fear of what may be a foot ahead was paralyzing. After several moments of deafening silence passed, I pushed myself off the ground and, still crouching, peered around carefully.

I glimpsed a flash of yellow and almost shrieked, but as soon as I caught a glimpse, it was gone and nothing, but the dented black trash can remain. It was unnerving, but I was certain it was just my imagination from being half asleep. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk, the luminous numbers blinked 12:04. It seemed like my power went out while I slept.

"Get a hold of yourself." I whispered to myself, my dry, hoarse voice creeping through the silence was more disconcerting than comforting.

Pushing aside the window curtain, I glanced out at the sky. It was still dark out, more so than usual. Heavy clouds hung in the air hiding the moon and stars, blanketing the night in an even deeper darkness. Buildings were cast in the dim light, barely visible, there were simple outlines and suggestions that life existed beyond this room. A fog seemed to be blanketing the streets for the lights looked like distant ghostly orbs floating above the hidden asphalt.

I Let the cloth fall back in place and got up, leaving the room. I headed down a short, dark hallway. The floor was carpeted in a shaggy mop of brown that may have been a lighter color in prior years, but now remained an empty reminder of time and neglect that passed. There was an archway to the right, opposite the closed bathroom door next to my room. The old, off white frige stood immediately to the left of the door fronting the line of ugly yellow cabinets. It was sputtering softly and there were a few loud clinks as the ice from the automatic attachment in the freezer dropped into the tray.

I looked at the flashing numbers on the electric stove that was tucked in the corner between the wall and fridge. 12:09. With a sigh, I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. I lingered in the kitchen long enough to take sips of the crisp, cool liquid carefully before heading for the living room. It was adjacent the kitchen, linking the remaining space from the hallway so there were two ways to enter it. It was small and the furnishing consisted of a grey, leather loveseat facing the small, flat-screen television. It sat on top of a small bookshelf filled with movies and games for a system I no longer owned. My three books were shoved on the tiny round wood table in the opposite right corner of the room from the door.

Once empty, I tossed the bottle of water on the couch as I sat down. I considered watching a movie or reading a book, just something to do. I already knew that once I woke up, I could never go back to sleep. My active mind would drum on and on about every sound I heard or every event I experienced, mocking me and keeping me away from much needed rest. With a groan I pulled the glass coffee table closer to where I was sitting and leaned back, putting my feet up on it, staring up at the ceiling.

The room was quiet. Only my ragged breath could be heard, not even the low humming of the refrigerator was loud enough to be identifiable. Everything else seemed suspended in the room perfectly still, silent as if they were merely waiting for something to happen. I had been idle for too long and my anxiety was beginning to set in. I pulled at the string of the black lamp that stood next to the couch. It wasn’t very tall, maybe three feet at most. The sudden change of light temporarily blinded me.

Leaning deep into the seat cushion, I clenched my teeth as my nerves started tugging harder on my stomach. It felt like my organs were being smashed up and churned. I looked at a painting on the wall, a warm monochromatic piece of seemingly random brush strokes in various shades of red, the tv remote, a round, multicolored coaster tossed casually aside with an empty can of high wire energy drink from two days ago sitting on top. I was trying to ground myself, picking out things I could see, feel, and taste. It was the only thing I could think to do with the sudden onset of anxiety, but it failed miserably.

I stood, deciding to go for a run to release my feelings, when I spied two luminous glowing orbs in the kitchen. Bright yellow, suspended in the air, they bobbed and moved slowly in unison. No matter how much I stared at them or rubbed and blinked my eyes, they wouldn't disappear. As my eyes focused into the pitch black, I could make out a shadowed profile and I realized the orbs were actually eyes. Trying to take a step back, I nearly fell into the loveseat, but simply stumbled and moved along the length of it slowly holding it for pipe comfort. Shivers of fear rocked my body, my breath labored as I stared in disbelief at the now approaching figure. A wheeze and mournful whine emitted from it; goosebumps prickle my arms. I have never heard such sounds before.

I couldn't see anything, but the suggestion of the creature's outline. Low to the floor, it was hunched over walking on two legs while letting its deformed arms slide along beside it. Twisted and misshapen, it looked like it could be a child with a large head and very long arms, and yet it was so grotesquely deformed it both perplexed and disgusted me. It continued to slowly move forward with a small scrape sound of its dragging arms still not paying attention to me. It was focused on something beyond it, beyond this room, the yellow orbs seeming cloudy.

Lowering myself to the floor, not moving my gaze from it, being careful to be quiet and unseen, I tucked behind the loveseat, listening for the creature. Usually, I kept a baseball bat back there out of the way, and I was blindly running my hand along the carpet searching for it until my fingers found the cold, smooth metal. Once the bat was firmly grasped, I slowly stood, scanning the room. No longer did I see the yellow eyes, but I could still hear low wheezing, a soft tap, tap, and the scraping drag of its arms against the tile of the kitchen floor.

The lamp behind me began to violently flicker and the machinery in the kitchen roared with an astonishing force, until everything around me shut off in a sudden blast of bright light, leaving behind a grueling silence.I held my breath, stood in the darkness, trying to blink through the wall of black blocking my vision. Relying only on my memory of the layout of the apartment, I slowly moved forward, holding up the bat, poised for attack. I listened to the tap, tap, wheeze of the creature. It was still in the kitchen, wandering. It seemed entirely unaffected by its surroundings. I crept towards it, following the sound. Heart pounding, its presence mystified me, but it radiated danger and drew from me an unquestionable terror.

I let out a breath. From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of yellow. It blinked; its narrow, cat-like pupils slowly focused onto me. There was a moment of silence as it stared at me and I it. Suddenly, it opened its mouth and a loud ear-splitting scream erupted from it with a disorienting force. Lunging forward in blinding speed, it swung its long arms wildly at me, I could barely move out of the way and it clipped my side with its nails, feeling like razers slashed through me. I Hissed from the sting as I swung the bat at the creature that was lunging towards me.

Screaming louder, it bounced along the room before it flung at me once more. Its speed was mind boggling, the moment I found it with my eye's it had already bounded out of view in a distorted blur. With a grunt I began swinging the bat this way and that, trying to predict where he will next go, trying my best to dodge its flurry of strikes. I clipped it and even knocked it back successfully, but still it relentlessly went after me.

I chopped down at it as it lunged for me once more, missed. The creature smashed its arms down into me, sharp, dagger-like claws pierced my chest, arms almost tearing off the right one, and nearly slit my throat. The once quiet room was now filled with two screams. When I staggered back away from it my body shook uncontrollably, erupting with unfamiliar agony, my left arm fell limp against my side.

The creature attacked again and with considerable force, it knocked me into the coffee table a few feet behind me. I cracked my head against the corner and fell hard to the floor. Pain resounded through my head and radiated from my body. Taking in shallow breaths, I was confused. I didn't understand what I was doing on the ground. Why couldn't I see? Why couldn’t I breathe? There was a muffled sound beyond where I lay, but a sudden onset of exhaustion kept me from caring. My eyes became too heavy for me to keep open.

Only a moment later, a bright flash of pure, white light filled the room and the floor opened and dragged my body through it. Feeling myself drop, I tried to cry out and snapped my eyes open, but not a sound was made. It felt like the air I needed to scream was robbed from me while I was being sucked in. I Tred to snatch the leg to the coffee table. I couldn’t feel my right arm, so I reached out with my weaker left. I was ripped down into the floor and only had time enough to grasp the bat instead before the hole closed up again above me.