friends

The theatre was dark. The screen shone brightly and the images flashed across it. Images of when I was little and joyful. I was hopping in the untrimmed grass of my old backyard. Little me doesn't see were she's going and she hits the thick tree trunk in the middle of the yard and falls. She cries. Her cries echo through the deserted theatre.

   Rows and columns of empty seats and cup holders. Lights out and silence in, I listen attentively to the tales of my past. The sound of the little girl's cries resonate in my head. No one came to her aid as she cried on the grassy yard. The miniature version of myself looked around and realised no one was going to help her up, so, she hugs herself and dries her tears. On the screen, I get up and smile and take deep breath, then continue to dance across the yard, but the genuine enjoyment was faded and the joy tampered down.

   Another image appears. My mother, a dark skinned and tall beauty, chastising me for wasting my dinner. She leaves me downstairs all alone to finish the meal. My tiny stomach was full but so was the plate in front of me. The aromatic dish before me lost all its warmth and flavour as I cried and filled myself to the brim with red rice and chicken. I sit there and wait for my mom to return. She doesn't.
  
   The theatre was empty and dark. I was alone in the big room that was so full yet utterly empty. The light from the screen illuminated the room dimly. Soft music played from the speakers. The sound of my childhood filled the room alongside the laughs and shouts and cries of little me on the screen. I sigh and watch emotionless and expressionless. Like a phantom I sat in the theatre. And watched.

   Scene after scene from my childhood flashed across the screen. I watch what is past away now.

   Then the scene changes. Its me, sitting in a dark theatre watching myself. Only that on the screen a black shadowy figure sat beside me, watching. I turn to the side, slowly but not fearfully. A black figure vaguely humanoid and vaguely female sat beside me, a hand extended for me to take. I looked at her face. Only the dull shine of deep green and red shone from the sockets of her eyes, I could barely see the black tears that ran down her face and salted her smiling lips.

I turn back to the screen. My hand is in that of the figure, and I realise that she is I... and I am her.

"We are not out of time, nor of words," her voice was sweet but bitter, strong but falling, "But alas the sea of love that are our hearts...."
"Turned out to be mere streams." I finished.
I put my hand in hers and the friend I made of darkness took me in, as it always did.