White Light

This is something that I have been playing around with for a while and I finally sat down and wrote it. It's different from some of my normal stuff. If you can figure out what is going on then...you get the pleasure of knowing how my mind works. :)

Dark. And light. Dark. And light. A groan of settling wood, a long ancient sigh of one who has lived too long, the echo of long dead ghosts. The room spins: smears of confused yellows, reds, purples, orange. Orange is kind of an ugly color, the red-headed stepchild of the rainbow. An ethereal glow from the window – has God come as last or is this a break in the clouds. The house sighs; ink coats the hallway, the distant light a heartbeat of hope. The floor becomes further away, a portion of a model, to scale, inside my life. I live inside my life. How does that work?

 

The warm embrace of light abandons me into the arms of the dark. A muted crunch of socks on carpet, like a child trying to mask the crashing cookie jar on the tile. There is no tile in this part of the house, only the artificial beige grass dirtied with the iniquities of the outside world.

 

…static…bzzzt…static…

 

There is a doll in front of me, shining with the same glow of the window, inviting me closer. The slow movement of her lips like a film in fast forward. I haven’t played with dolls since I was little. I think I still have a doll in my closet….

 

…static…bzzzt…static…

 

It’s Christmas morning. The friendly smell of pine accents the air, giving a sort of false cheer to the underlying sadness. The elephant on the couch is now outlined in pink. A little girl takes a box in her arms, smiling as a mother at her newborn, unfounded happiness. Chiiiiisssss….the wrapping paper sings its own Christmas song as it leaves the box and is discarded disaffectionately to the side. The box is opened slowly; the joy has enveloped the young girl’s face, surprise, wonderment, and awe shine like the lights on the tree, winking merrily. The girl sighs with happiness, and takes the doll, as a mother takes her infant, and cradles it to her chest. Today, she is happy.

 

...static…bzzzt…static…

 

The room spins again. Dark. Less dark. Dark. Less dark. The heartbeat of light is no longer shining. A soft bump against the wall, and shhh…shhh….shhh…the shuffle of plastic on carpet. Behind me? Dark and less dark. Dark and less dark. Where are you? Where are you?

 

…static…bzzzt…static…

 

The mind calls in the darkness but the darkness has no reply. Where is it? Where is it? A soft tap on the wall and the fingers feel the soft bumps of the wall…something smooth…probably wood…. Where is it? Where is it?

 

…static…bzzzt…static…

 

Rummaging through the rough wooden chest in her lap, she carefully lifts out a soft velvet bag, an overly large, fuzzy grape with limp black stems. Caressing the softness of the velvet, she carefully pries open the small treasure and pours coins into her hand like water. Clinclinclinclinclinclinclinclinclinclin. She listens to them clink in her hand, lifting up each to carefully observe its beauty, like a fine piece of art. Such memories, such happy memories…. Where did those days go? She used to be so happy. Once upon a time….

 

…static…bzzzt…static…

 

Once upon a time there lived a princess. Except, she didn’t want to be a princess. She would much rather be out in the world than waiting in a tower day after day for Mr. Right to HAPPEN upon her in the woods of her life. She didn’t want to have to follow a lot of silly rules, she didn’t want to have to conform. She only wanted to be herself. So she ran away….

 

…static…bzzzt…static...

 

…to the far reaches of her brain. The only thing that was there was a Subway restaurant, where the squirrels that ran on treadmills on her head went to take a lunch break. Squirrels running a person’s brain? It sounds crazy, but it’s true, I promise. The squirrels must be off right now. There’s not a thought in my pretty little head.

 

…static…bzzzt…static…

 

Feeling…smooth and rough, all at the same time. Feeling… I imagine that’s what sex would be like. Sex would be like the wall – rough and smooth, both at the same time. Is it obvious that I’ve never been laid? Is that one of those things you can tell simply by looking at me? Right now, if someone was looking at me, they probably wouldn’t see anything. Darkness is obscuring my vision like a black night. I’ve fallen into a hole, but my feet are on the ground. Falling, falling, falling, falling down, down, down, down, down, down….

 

A soft squeak of feet on carpet. From where? Where are you? Is anyone there? Where are you? I know you’re there. I can hear you. Where are you? Where is it? Where is it? Why can’t I find it?

 

Sqich…sqich…sqich…sqich…slowly, slowly…standing still, embraced by the darkness. Frantically searching fingers. Wallflowers? No. ballerinas madly dashing over the walls like a stage; they know all the steps, even though they can’t hear the orchestra, they keep dancing and dancing. It is all they know how to do…Dance, my puppets, dance…

 

…static…bzzzt…static...

 

No matter what, I have to keep going. Going and going all the time. I have to keep going until I reach my goal, until I can feel again. I know I can do this; I’ve done it before. Reaching and reaching, pushing further and further. And when I get there, the pleasure I get at a job well done, courses through my body; lightning that starts in the middle and fans out over my body and I’m shaking like an epileptic with happy. There is no other way to describe what I feel right now. Again, and again. Keep going and going…almost there…going and going…. I want to feel the lightning in my body, more than anything. If anyone knew how hard I worked for this, they would probably laugh. But not in a good way, in more of a ‘oh-my-god-that’s-awkward-why-the-f**k-did-I-need-to-know-that-about-you’ kind of way. I have my secrets…. THERE IT IS!!! …victory…

 

…static…bzzzt…static…

 

Raised bump in the wall. Smooth to the touch. Knot in the middle. Feels almost like a boy should feel…. I found it. SNop!

 

Light floods the hallway, loud and bright, look-at-me-look-at-me, comforting.

 

Nothing to my left.

 

Nothing to my right.

 

There really was nothing there, was there? SNop!

 

Darkness again. I like it better that way, anyway. Like the lamp in ‘The Wild Duck,’ everyone has a secret they want to hide. Too bad you won’t find out mine, eh?