Darkness

• Jay Burnett, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2015

A bright light burns my eyes as I stand rigid with shock. There is the squeal of tires, the smell of burning rubber then a loud crash smothers me in a starless night. Pain nips at my mind, I see it, a writhing snake of darkness. Darker than the night. It coils around me, weaving through my bones and squeezing, sharp pains burn my skin. It reminds me of barbed wire. That must be it, I’m wrapped in barbed wire. I hear a voice through the haze of pain. ‘Wake up honey. Wake up my little girl’. What a wretched voice. I hear the anguish decorating it like a children’s painting. ‘That’s enough paint’ I want to yell but my voice has disappeared.
The darkness has become almost comfortable now. The black snake I have come to know as pain, finally seemed tired of me. He slithered away and now lingers in the background, my only companion in the night. I know the darkness isn’t bad, it is soft and peaceful like a warm, cosy bed on a cold winter morning. There is a nagging voice that comes and goes. It tells me to wake up. It tells me I need to leave this dark, silent place but I don’t know how. I see only one door, crisscrossed with heavy metal chains held together by a large silver padlock. There is no sound when I knock on the door, nor does anyone answer when I call out. Yet the voice still nags, ‘Leave. Wake up and leave this place!’
I sit alone in the gloom staring at nothing. Time moves slowly, I feel like I have been here an eternity. The snake slithers close and I cringe away from him. He smiles and twists around me again. Suddenly a bright flash of light scalds my very being, hotter than boiling water. The burning weakens swiftly then I see clouds in a bright blue sky. Clouds? I see my mother looking down on me. She is crying, her hands wringing at a small white handkerchief. When she leaves I see the sky moving again, time seems to speed them by faster and faster. I knew if I was able I would feel tears pouring from my eyes.
My mother visits often her eyes always clouded with sorrow. She brings roses of the purest white and tells stories of the world she lives in. A place I barely seem to know. Father visits once a year. On my birthday, he brings roses of many colours. Rainbow roses with petals of many colours. The rainbow roses never last long, the colour fades and the petals fall, gracefully to the ground. Father sits with me, his phone turned off, he talks only to me. I like that. He talks for a very long time, until the sky darkens and his tears fall unnoticed to dampen the earth.
I can see them both aging. Their hair turning grey, their skin thinning until it seems the wind may blow them away. Then, they vanish. I miss the flowers and stare, constantly stare at the clouds in the big bright sky. I’ve had enough. I miss my mother. I miss my father. The black snake covers the sky and at that moment I see the old comforting night again. The door laced with chains stands before me and I know what I must do. I reach out, tearing the chains off frantically. I turn the knob and push open the door.
On the other side I see a hospital bed surrounded by beeping machines and flowers of all sorts. I see a girl laying on that bed, motionless as a carving. I take a step forward, a small smile spreading across my face.
The loud beeping of my heartbeat fills the room.