By Jason Gibbs
He remembered her. Her mind was a shining beacon in the darkness. They’d met, banally, at a bar, and begun talking. Soon they were sharing intimacies as if they’d known each other for years. He’d told her so much, and she had reciprocated. He thought that, finally, his long night was over.
“Look, we’ve had a great time, but it’s over.”
The words still hurt him. He knew why she’d said them, he’d tried to explain what he saw.
“The world is dark. Everyone carries their own darkness with them, and it shuts out all that is right. When there are big crowds the darkness mixes, merges and builds and I can see nothing, And then there was you. You blaze. You cut through the darkness. I followed your light, and found you.”
“You what? You mean our meeting wasn’t an accident? You were stalking me?”
How could he explain it better? She wouldn’t listen, because she couldn’t see. Perhaps her own light blinded her?
“No, no. It was like I knew you before I knew you. You see?”
“Not really.”
There weren’t words for this. Perhaps he could show her?
“Please hold my hands, I think I can show you.”
She reluctantly put her hands out. He grasped them firmly and opened his mind. Her scream was one of pure anguish. He let go immediately and she slumped to the floor, sobs struggling to escape her, as if she couldn’t let them out fast enough.
“What, what was that? Why was I blind, and cold, and the dark, it wanted me, it hated me.”
It had been so long that I’d lived with it that I’d forgotten that aspect of it.
“That’s the real world, surrounding us. The source of our suffering.”
She looked at him and shook her head, while her whole body was shaking.
“No, no. That isn’t real. Can’t be real.” She looked down at her gin, “You spiked my drink!”
I tried to calm her, tell her that I was only sharing the truth, as I’d shared everything else.
It was too much for her. Perhaps I had moved too fast?
Slowly I managed to pacify her. I made her another gin, drank some myself to show her it was fine. She sipped it, and I could see her thinking. I could also see her light, which had dimmed while she cried, brighten again.
“So that’s what you see? All the time? Instead of the world I see?”
“No, I see that too. It’s like a different sense entirely, like hearing. It is so overwhelming when you first experience it, that it seems to stop sight. But it is still there, though diminished”
“What are you?”
“I don’t know.”
She sat and thought. I could see her thinking it through. Rationalising, and forgetting. This had happened before when I’d shown people, but I’d hoped she would understand, otherwise why did she burn so brightly?
“Look, I can’t deal with this. I need to go home. Shower. I’ll call you.”
She left. The following day she’d called him to tell him it was finished.
Now he had to face the dark each day alone. He’d thought to find her again, persuade her to stay with him, but when he’d looked she’d gone. He’d bumped into one of her friends who’d been rather unpleasant, and implied that he was some kind of pervert. Her darkness had smothered him, and he had almost run from her.
Each day the darkness built around him. He could no longer see people, just their shadows. Hungry shadows, staring at him.
He awoke in a cold sweat. He needed to know something, what did he look like? Was he covered in darkness? He’d tried in the past to see, but he couldn’t, it was like trying to look at the back of his eyeballs. The fear started to build in him, perhaps he too was being devoured by a shadow. He had to find her again.
The normal ways of finding her wouldn’t work, but he’d missed the obvious way of finding her. He’d look for her light in crowds. Climbing tall buildings he looked around the city, and could see nothing. He travelled the country, always going to the tallest buildings, and scanning all around. The days turned to weeks and then months. Each night he would awake, feeling the darkness growing stronger.
He’d looked everywhere he could, he was close to giving up, when he thought of one final ploy. The next day he was in a charter plane, criss crossing the country. After two days he saw the light, burning, still so brightly, in the middle of the wilderness. He’d found her.
He drove out towards the light, burning so brightly, surrounded by dark.
She was waiting for him. She even had his favourite beer ready. He took a swig and stared at her. She spoke first.
“I saw you coming.”
“How?”
“Since you showed me the darkness I’ve been able to see it as well. I came out here to get away from the crowds and the worst of it.”
“It’s still here.”
“Yes, but so much less.”
“So, how could you see me?”
She paused, and looked at him. Her light dimmed a little.
“You too are a beacon.”
Relief flooded him, he was of the light too.
“You could see my light!”
She shook her head. He was confused.
“Then what could you see?”
“Your darkness. You are like the deepest black, rising as a beacon. The darkness boils off you, smothering everything.”
He sank to his knees and bowed his head. He had always known.
He couldn’t get up again. He looked up at her quizzically as the beer bottle slipped from his numbed fingers.
She was crying. His beacon of light.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology echoed in his head. The pain from the drug was intense. He fell onto his face, and slipped, slowly, into the final darkness.
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