The Darkest Shade of Light

This story was a creative project given by my English teacher. I had to rewrite a scene from "A Separate Peace" from a different character's perspective.

“Light is only prevalent in the presence of darkness, as death gives meaning to life.”

It was this morning that I saw dawn rising, gliding over the ocean with its brilliance and finesse.  The bright orange light emanating from its center illuminated the sky and the silver-lined clouds, spreading through the thick structures with a warrior’s serene step.  This was partly imagination, as my eyes were only slightly open, slowly adjusting to the sun’s rays which quickly diluted through the morning sky. 

            Gene was already wide awake, with his arms behind his head.  He still rested upon the sand, with its coarse grains digging into his elbows and skin.  His hair was flowing back into the sand, as each strand slowly connected with each individual grain, as if a minuscule love was being fulfilled each second.

            Although it was a bright, vibrant morning, the ocean looked dull, and rather dead.  The waves were gray, and had no phosphorescence of the previous night.  They flowed endlessly, constantly blending with each other in perfect euphony. I just came to realize the sand bed I lay on now, with its grains now digging into my conscious back.  I looked down, towards the lightly colored particles, moving along with the morning breezes. 

            As my eyes opened farther, I came to see more of my surroundings.  “That was one of the best night’s sleep I ever had.”  Gene looked at me, his expression weary.  He looked dazed, as if yesterday’s events and today’s worries had already come and go.

            “When have you ever had a bad one?”  Gene had brightened up, the joy now apparent in his tone.  His eyes glistened lightly again as usual, with that little amount of glint a piece of metal would have, sitting under the warm afternoon sun.

            “That time I broke my ankle in football.”  I remember that pain, the excruciating feeling.  It was a friendly game, and with friendly sportsmanship comes a rash competitive spirit.  It was over the summer, at my cousin Ronald’s house.  Just him and I, and a few of his neighborhood friends.  We assembled in his lawn, feeling the sharp blades of grass flow through our bare feet.  Through the game, Ronald had gotten the ball, and was going to pass it to Jeffery, his closest friend and now teammate.  I had jumped forwards, trying to catch the pass, and my foot landed neatly upon a tree stump, the sounds of bone cracking resonating through the screams of joy and the expulsion of energy.  It was a horrible pain, although I received the cheers of all that were around.

            Gene seemed confused.  I had replied, and dosed off into a memory.  “I like the way the beach looks now.  Shall we have a morning swim?”  The ocean did truly look beautiful at this time.

            “Are you crazy?  It’s too late for that.”  Gene was standing now, hovering over me. 

            I stood up, removing myself from the oddly comfortable sand bed.  The wind greeted me, gusting through my hair and around my still vaguely numb body.  It looked early still, with the light slowly spreading along the coast and onto the now lightly colored beach.  “What time is it anyway?”  Gene always knew the time.  It was as if he had a clock, slowly ticking away in his head at all times.

            “It’s going on seven o’clock.”  Gene looked towards his wrist, as if a watch were there.  He still looked aggravated, and slightly impatient.  I wanted to relieve his mood a little.

            I started heading towards the ocean, its blue color now slowly being resuscitated by the presence of light. “There’s time for just a short swim!”  As I yelled back towards Gene, I pulled my sandy shirt off, feeling the heat strike my chest.  I looked down, and saw my muscle start faintly glowing.  I was never muscular, just skinny.  I can see my muscle, but it never struck me as incredibly strong or attractive.  I just happened to be thin.

            As I pulled my cargo shorts off, the ocean’s tinge ran through my feet, with its cold temperature chilling to the bone.  I dove in, headfirst, straight into the deep water.  It was absolutely freezing, yet internally felt as if a hearth.  The water cleaned the sand out of my hair, and I looked around, watching the particles flow away, just melting into the millions of gallons of water surrounding me.  I opened my eyes, and saw no signs of life, as it was still early.  The vast quantities of fish populating these waters must still be asleep, if fish even did sleep.  Gene will know, I’ll ask him.  Gene always knows the answers to my questions, no matter how preposterously goofy they may seem.

            I came to the surface, breathing a huge gulp of fresh, salty air.  The light was stronger now, and I could feel even a little prick on the back of my neck as the sun found it.  I looked back towards the land, and Gene was sitting there, looking at me as if crazy. 

            I left my waterlogged oasis, and walked back onto the sand, it now sticking to my wet feet.  He looked disappointed, and still rather tired. 

            “Do you have the money?”  His surprise shot up, engulfing his entire body. 

            I just remembered.  We had joined our money, creating a good seventy-five cents, and I had kept it in my pocket.  I had put my shorts back on, and felt no weight in my pocket.  It seemed the money had slithered out, becoming part of the ocean.  Everything wanted to be part of that beautiful body.  The sand, the light, and now our money.

            We hopelessly searched around us for it, but found nothing.  There would be no morning breakfast now, with that delicious scent lurking our nostrils.  Just our exhilarating ride back to Devon.

            “I still have that trigonometry test; I know I’m going to flunk it now.” Gene looked at me, his body swaying on the bike. 

            “Don’t you worry; you’ll be back just in time! Besides, you don’t ever study, why would you fail?” 

            This didn’t seem to calm his mood.  We rode back in silence, with only nature detailing the tiny nuances that formulate into the sounds of life, blending with the creak and cringe of our bikes.

            Gene left immediately upon arriving, rushing to his classroom.  We were 20 minutes early, but Gene seemed an hour late.  I went to the hall, and ate a good breakfast, fresh eggs and smoked bacon.  During this time, with all the soldiers scattered through Europe, I’m surprised they don’t have this food.  We should be eating their horrid rations, while they enjoy a decent meal every day.

            I had a fair plan for the rest of the day.  It is odd, since I never really plan things out.  I tend to “wing it,” just living life.  It’s simple, yet provides a wealthy amount of elegance, as spontaneous measures arouse spontaneous surprise.  But today I had a plan.  I wanted to have a game of blitzball after lunch, with Gene and Leper and the rest of the guys.  It wouldn’t take too long; just a quick game.  Then we would eat dinner, and enjoy the scrumptious meal we’d have.  The Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session cannot be forgotten, with a nightly meeting scheduled.

            I was proud of myself; I had put together a schedule. 

            Gene came out of the testing room, a look of gloom on his face.  He was carrying his books lower than usual, and his head sulked down. 

            “I flunked the test.  I completely flunked it.”  Gene looked at me reassuringly, as if he wanted someone to tell him he did great. 

            “I’m sure you didn’t.  You may have just thought so.”  Gene never flunks anything. 

            “No, you don’t understand.  I saw the questions and I couldn’t recall anything.  I was completely lost in there.  Finny, what if I don’t pass?”

            “You will pass.  Of all the people, you have the highest chance of graduating.  Don’t you worry one second.”

            Gene continued on, and we walked to lunch. Leper joined us on the way, prancing and jolting around the campus.  His gaze was always transfixed to an object so peculiar, such as an ant walking upon a blade of grass, or a bee, moving from flower to flower.  Although it was odd, it seemed to bring him joy, and happiness.  His own little retreat, received through observation of nature. 

            Lunch was usual, but rather quiet today.  Gene sat next to me, his hands on his hair, his eyes focused on the textbook he grasped as if a fragile glass ornament. 

            “Blitzball game today! After lunch! Everyone who dares to play!”  I wanted to get Gene’s attention, and disrupt his supreme focus.  He works too hard sometimes, and needs to relieve himself in some way.  Blitzball sounds like an extraordinary method of stress relief.

            Leper smiled, and looked at Chet, who was grinning as well.  Chet looked towards Gene, who has still shown no recognition of anything being said. 

            “Gene, come on!  Blitzball sounds like a great idea!”  Leper looked at Gene, encouragingly shouting at him.  Chet joined in also, tapping his arm from across the table.

            Gene looked towards me, a black smirk on his face, as if blaming me for this rash persuasion coming from Chet and Leper.  I looked back reassuringly, adding to the persuasive thoughts wafting in the air. 

            “It’ll be good for you.  Get outside, get some air, and stop worrying about this test that’s already in the past.  Summer’s about living in the present, not reveling on things you can’t change!”

            Gene still looked disappointed.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t figure out what that was.

            “But, I…I just need to study.  I need to pass this semester.”           

            I looked at him now, and saw the raging motivation in his eyes.  He really wanted to pass.

            I put my hand on his arm, and replied, “And educated fool is much like a book with no cover.  It may be the greatest book in the world, but there’s no introduction.  Blitzball gives you that introduction my friend.”

            My analogy wasn’t the greatest, but it did the job. 

            “Fine.  After my food digests.”

            That’s the spirit.

            We walked over to the field we had chosen, right off of the boat docks.  It was open, and had a slight angular curve to the ground, adding to the difficulty of blitzball.  Gene thought it was unfair, while Leper imagined it as more of a gift of nature. 

            Overall, the game went well, with no injuries or painstaking amounts of screaming.  Surprising, as those are the things that make up blitzball.  That, and good-hearted sportsmanship.  After leaving, I walked up to our room, down the long tiled hallways of the dormitory.  It always smelled the same way.  The only way I could imagine it is freedom locked inside a cage.  Freedom, with all its perks of joy and glamour, sitting behind titanium bars, with a padlock in front of the door.  It reaches its hands out of the bars to feel the wispy air all around, but can never escape. 

            The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear Gene writing away, his pencil scraping along the paper and the desk.  I could hear his focus too, silently shrieking through the nighttime environment.  It rang through my head, although my ears did not take bother. 

            “Gene, are you still fretting over that test?”  I opened the door and was now holding it, standing inside the room.

            Gene frowningly glanced towards me, then returned to what he was doing.  His pencil started scratching away once more, hastily illegible from my perspective.  I sat down on the table we use for reading, pushing books aside. 

            “Gene, you work too hard.”  He turned around to look at me, and his knee jolted the desk, moving the study lamp just enough to have it glow upon the floor, creating an eerie yellow pool on the dark carpeting.  “You know all about History and English and French and everything else.  What good will Trigonometry do you?”

            Frustrated, he sighed and looked down at the light pool.  “I’ll have to pass it to graduate, for one thing.”

            “Don’t even start with that.”  He always used the same reason as an excuse.  “Nobody at Devon has ever been surer of graduating than you are.  You aren’t working for that.  You want to be head of the class, valedictorian, so you can make a speech on Graduation day­-in Latin or something boring like that probably-and be the boy wonder of the school.  I know you.”  He looked at me now, removing his gaze from the light.

            “Don’t be stupid.  I wouldn’t waste my time on anything like that.” 

            “You never waste your time.  That’s why I have to do it for you.”  I realized I had a bit of a grin on my face, that of a murderer admitting to his crime. 

            Gene didn’t notice, and continued with less rage.  “Anyway, somebody’s got to be the head of the class.” 

            I lit up now, like a candle ablaze in a fireplace.  “You see!  I knew that’s what you were aiming at!”  I said it quietly, but with such exuberance it made me want to jump off of this table and bounce around on the flat ground.

            “Fooey.”  Gene’s acceptance just added to my overall enthusiasm.  I knew I was right!

            Gene turned around, and went back to his studies, so I took a pencil and began twirling it around my finger.  I lied back on the bed, my feet in the air.  It felt good looking at the white-washed roof, gleaming under the moon’s light.  The white moon light connected well with the white walls, and created an effervescent glow that radiates through the entire room.  It was a literal glow in the dark wall, since the moon only comes out in the night.

            I saw Gene’s shadow moving, back and forth.  I looked up at him, and his head snapped down, trembling at times.  He kept doing it, every time I looked away his head would come back and his eyes would lazily run up and down my body, focusing on something inside perhaps. 

            “Relax.”  He was stressing even more every second.  His posture and attitude were increasingly denoting.  “Your brain’ll explode if you keep this up.” 

            “You don’t need to worry about me Finny.” 

            “I’m not worried.” 

            He started to say something, but stopped, and looked away.  He looked out the window, staring off into the distance.  I lied back again, but before my head touched the bed, he started again.

            “You, you wouldn’t mind if I…if I wound up head of the class, would you?”

            I smiled the biggest smile I’d ever had.  I can’t believe that this is why Gene is so stressed.  “Mind?”  I laughed, and tilted my head.  “Fat chance you’ve got, anyway, with Chet Douglass around.”

            “But you wouldn’t mind, would you?”  He got quieter, and less authoritative, as if afraid of my answer.

            I put on a grin rather representative of a great ego, as if I knew everything in the world, and stated, “I’d kill myself out of jealous envy.” 

            Gene didn’t laugh, although I can tell that he knew I was joking.  He turned around and started rubbing his head again, his finger sliding through his hair. 

            “Chet Douglass is a sure thing for it,” he said, uncertainly stuttering. 

            It was quiet after that.  We ate a silent supper, with a lot of doubtful glances to each other.  I wanted to say something, but was afraid of how Gene would react, so I left it alone.  Maybe he’s having a bad day.

            Gene went to the room first, with me slowly following, enjoying the smell of caged freedom once more.

            I walked in, enthusiastically yelling, “Arise!”  I looked at Gene, his attention fully attuned to me.  “Senior Overseer Charter Member! ‘Leper’ Lepellier has announced his intention to make the leap this very night, to qualify, to save his face at last.” 

            Gene immediately looked skeptical, while I was full-heartedly belligerent.  “If he jumps out of that tree I’m Mahatma Gandhi.” 

            I turned slightly, looking at him from the corners of my eyes.  “All right,” I said with another infamous grin.  I took his arm, and pulled him up, bringing him with me.  “Come on, let’s go.  We’ve got to be there.  You never know,” I paused, looking at him now, “maybe he will do it this time.” 

            “Oh for God sake.”  He went back and shut his French book with a loud thud.

            He sat back down, and slumped into the chair, his arms crossed.

            “What’s the matter?”

            He smirked again, spinning in the chair.

            “Studying! Studying! You know, books.  Work.  Examinations.” 

            “Yeah…?”  I was confused and curious as to what was happening.

            “Oh for God sake!  You don’t know what I’m talking about.  No, of course not.  Not you.”  He stood up, slamming the chair against the desk, rattling the lamp again.  “Okay, we go.  We watch little lily-liver Lepellier not jump from the tree, and I ruin my grade.”   

            I was surprised, and was interested in this.  “You want to study?”

            Gene signed and turned around, facing the desk once more.  “Never mind, forget it.  I know, I joined the club, I’m going.”  His head moved from gazing down to me.  “What else can I do?”

            I faced the door now, but didn’t walk.  It was confusing, and uneasy.  I didn’t know whether to leave Gene or not.  I wanted him to come with me, to see Leper jump from the tree.  But I wanted him to study, and to pass, and to be happy once more. 

            “Don’t go.”  I spun around, and stared him in the eye.  “Don’t go.  What the hell, it’s only a game.”

            Gene had gotten up, and was halfway to the bed when he stopped.  “What’d you mean?”

            I started walking to the door again, slowly and tamely.  I could hear Gene behind me, and his frustration echoed through the infallibly secluded space.

            “I didn’t know you needed to study,” I simply said, letting the words just roll off of my tongue.  “I didn’t think you ever did.  I thought it just, came to you.” 

            I remember how I felt when playing blitzball, or when creating the darn game.  That feeling of just, knowledge.  Like I knew everything.  It all came so quickly.  I thought Gene might have felt the same way with his knowledge, with his academics, with everything he strives in.

            “I do need to study.  If I need to study, then so do you.”

            I believe that was the most humorous thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.  Gene was telling me I needed to study, trying to prove how he needs to study.  There was no parallel between this duality. 

            “Me?”  I looked at him crossed again, with my head tilted in that ‘confusion’ way.  “Listen, Gene.  I could study forever, and I’d never break C.  But it’s different for you, you’re good.  You really are.  If I had a brain like that, I’d-I’d have my head cut open so people could look at it.”

            Gene copied my expression, slightly tilting his head as well.  “Now wait a second…”

            I walked over to the desk, looking at the French textbook that has been violently handled in the past hour.  I put my hands on the chair, feeling its flexibility run through my arms.  It bended back and forth, sways with the motion of my emotions.  I spun, and faced Gene, my hands still on the chair, swaying it forwards.

            “I know, we kid around a lot and everything,” I said to him, “but you have to be serious sometime, about something.  If you’re really good at something, I mean if there’s nobody, or hardly anybody, who’s as good as you are, then you’ve got to be serious about that.  Don’t mess around, for God’s sake.” I realized I was frowning by looking at Gene’s expression.  “Why didn’t you say you had to study before?  Don’t move from that desk.  It’s going to be all A’s for you.” 

            I tried reasoning.  I tried everything I could to try and understand Gene.  I was the mockingbird, aloft in the air, humming through the crisp density that interminably flows around all.  There was the bright flower, in the same air as I was, serenely sitting in the field.  But there was no intrusion, no point of entry.  I went around and around, looking for that entrance, poking at every point I could, but there was no entry.  I couldn’t make up an entry, I wasn’t nature.  I would inevitably lose, every time.

             “Wait a minute,” he said sharply, cutting through my air.  “Wait just a minute.  I’m coming with you.”

            I was already walking, my feet out the door onto the cleanly polished tiles of the dorm.  Gene was following me, but I stopped him.  “No you aren’t, pal, you’re going to study.”

            “Never mind my studying.”   

            “You think you’ve done enough already?”  He slammed the French book shut, angrily before.  He hit the desk with his knee.  He constantly moved the study lamp.  How can I trust him?

            “Yes.”  Brief, and abrupt.  He ended this quickly, shortly.  It was over.  Gene was coming. 

            Okay then. 

            We walked out, with me whistling my favorite tune, I’ll be Seeing You, by Frank Sinatra.  It was a new war tune, and all the grand fighters would sing it through the harsh times.  The darkness outside simply accented this mellow melody, with our shadows creeping through the light, spherically set.  I got to the chorus, where he gets softer, almost whispering.  I crouched down, acting out these little nuances in the song.  Gene didn’t laugh, but just kept walking to the tree, his focus unbreakable. 

            I started talking in French, whispering out the words and sounds of the beautiful language.  Gene paused to look at me, then kept going, the darkness blocking his sight. 

            It was easy to know when we’d arrived, with Leper and Chet loudly chatting away around the base of the tree.  They stood there, soldiers on rest, leaning on the ever-growing oak.  I imagine what the soldiers talk about on their rest.  They may talk about their wives, and how beautiful they are.  Or whose wife is more beautiful, which is an argument with no victory.  Perhaps they spoke about home, describing the gorgeous scenery of their hometowns, in pristine detail, with the flowing rivers of blue water, or the green trees loitering around every corner.  They may even speak of the war, and all its faults, or its tribulations.  It is a constant boring trial, with no end in sight.  The attorneys walk up, and speak, violently dispersing of other obstacles, then sit back down, resting.  The other side may do so as well, then sit back down.  But there is no judge; nor will there ever be one.  Blood is the only currency that justice accepts. 

            “Hey, Finny! Gene!”  Leper lit up with excitement, and Chet followed.  “Come on, hurry up!  We’ve been waiting!”

            I wanted to tell them of the reason of their wait, but I reprieved my desire.  It was difficult enough to get Gene to come along, and I wouldn’t want to make this expedition any harder.

            “Hello members of the Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session!  I thank all of you for attending this crucial meeting, placed out by this friendly tree we have come to know so well.”  I took my shirt off, tossing it to the side onto the dark green grass.  “I have a very special surprise for you today.”

            I looked at Gene, hoping my enthusiasm bled off of me into his mind.  I hoped my thoughts could be felt by him, and that my eager smile may lead him onto what I wanted.

            “Let’s go, you and me,” I whispered, motioning for him to come.  “Together, me and you.  A double jump, eh?”

            Gene looked exasperated.  But he started removing his clothes while I took off my shorts, exposing my undergarments. 

            I ran to the first rung of the tree, and stepped onto it, holding onto the wide trunk and leaning over the ground. 

            “To all members in attendance, your surprise awaits!  A double jump, with two men jumping at once!”  There was a small burst of dramatic appreciation, creeping out of the minuscule crew.

            I started making my way up, feeling the rungs creak beneath my feet.  Gene was right below me, creaking along.  I climbed to the highest limb, the one that peaks right over the bank.  It was perfectly swooshing along, with the tiny waves washing up against each other.  Little battles, constantly swaying from side to side, with no reprise.  The light occasionally illuminated these battles in little detail, giving me a slight comprehension of what is happening.  It then moved on to another topic, illuminating that, while the battles continued.

            “Hey, keep moving!”  Gene yelled up to me, as I was standing there in admiration.  I jumped for a second, then kept moving up to the branch, and started walking horizontally. 

            The branch was getting weaker, with our constant usage and irrefutable jumping.  I moved out slowly, feeling the strength of the wood be tested.  I grabbed onto a skinny branch nearby, balancing out my weight.  Gene stepped onto the branch as well, it now descending angularly towards the ground with every movement. 

            “Come out a little way, and then we’ll jump side by side.”  I motioned to Gene, who seemed reserved at the larger end of the branch.  He started making his way to the end where I was. 

            I did not know if my eyes we’re playing a trick on me, but Gene disappeared for a short moment.  He seemed to just fall out of my sight, and disappear completely.  But then I saw him again, but only the top of his head.  His knees had slightly bent, and he lost balance.  The branch we were standing on shook a bit.  But then there was the crack.

            At first I thought it was a bone, cracking eerily through the silence of the night.  It echoed through my head, and rang in my ears, until disturbed by another sound.

            Cracks.  Everywhere.  All I could hear was cracking.  So many cracks. 

            I forgot about Gene completely, and looked around.  My body was still intact, and nothing seemed wrong.  There was a branch in my hand, its wood soothing the soft skin of my fingers.

            A branch, in my hand.  How did that get there?

            The pain in my back was extreme.  It was scratching and burning, searing the soft skin covering my vertebrae.  I felt needles pricking into my skin, and the cool liquid flow of blood starting its escape.  It reminded me of the soldiers at rest, thinking about their wives.  They were moving out of the trenches and bunkers, rushing towards their doom.  Or the lawyers, standing up now.  They were spewing out their words, dispersing of the other obstacles that weren’t needed.

            It was loud now, very loud.  The cracking noises were met by the sound of wind, zooming past my ears.  It was ringing interminably, even tickling me.  There was little motion, only that of a body moving.  I could not see if that was my body, with a delay, or someone else’s. 

            The scratching disappeared now, and there was nothing.  Nothing beneath me, nothing above.  All had gone blank around me, with the darkness engulfing me.               

            I didn’t want to be here, I did not like the dark.  My eyes were closed, the darkness was rapidly creeping in.

            Right before I opened my eyes, I felt the pain.  It wasn’t the scratching again, or the burning.  It was the hammer, smashing into my back.  The soldier just got shot by his enemy, the bullet tearing through everything in his body.  The lawyer just sat back down, countered by the winner.

            I was numb.  Completely numb.  My eyes were only slightly open, the light running in, as if running away from the darkness.  That would not be smart to come here, there is more darkness here.

            I could not stay open for long, but I had to see what was moving.  I saw the figure, running off of the branch I just left, and jumping.  It was flying, soaring through the air, like the birds do, cutting fiercely through the dense mush.  I wanted to keep watching, it was absolutely beautiful, just as the mountains are, and the fields are, and the sunsets are, and dawn.  All of these things were just as beautiful as the figure flying. 

            I had to close my eyes, I could not fight anymore.  The darkness was sucking me in, pulling me into its realm. 

            The last thing I saw before entering the fiery hell of dark was an explosion.  Not an explosion, but a burst of energy.  There were no explosives, or burning light, or huge cloud.  There was nothing.  I realize now that soldiers don’t see the explosion either.  They might be on the battlefield, with bombs falling all over, but they will never see the explosion or the light or the cloud.  The attorney, sitting in his pool of loss, may lay his head back, and close his eyes.  He won’t see an explosion, or a light, or even clouds. 

            I saw an explosion, but it wasn’t fiery.  It was light, and blue, and wet.  There was water everywhere, and the figure disappeared in this explosion, falling right through the center.

            But that does not count as seeing one.  Because the soldier, and the attorney, and myself are all alike.  Perhaps everyone is all alike.  They don’t get to see what we want them to see, the beautiful flowers, or the dark cage of a coffin.  They don’t see any of that.

            The only thing they see is darkness.

            The purified, hellish illumination of darkness.

  

Author's Note

Any criticism would be great! Thank you!

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You must go to a very good school. The story is very good. I like the detail and description of each situation. I like how you described the beach. Even the small detail of no money allow the story to feel real and alive. I like the internal thoughts about the Soldiers and their life. Each event was written with skill and detail making the story fun and entertaining to read. A excellent story. I enjoyed the complete story.
Coyote