Throw Your Colors at the Dark {Vic Fuentes}

    The Christmas lights were glowing brilliantly in the darkness, the houses illuminated by their multi-colored incandescence.  They lit up the black evening like a thousand galaxies in the night sky, a constellation of creations made by man.  They sparkled, twinkled, flashed and dazzled all whom walked by on this snowy evening.  The white crystals fell gracefully like feathered down from the heavens, the true luminous balls of gas and planets hidden by thick clouds heavy with more feathered ice.  Icicles draped off of the homes illuminated by small lights, the colored photons causing shapes to play on the homes due to the sharp creatures hanging from rooftops.  There were thousands of them that clung to the homes of people with small and large families alike.  The suburban neighborhood was the dream of most American’s.

    But not mine.

    The snowflakes stuck to my eyelashes and my coat as well as my dark curls and my uncovered grey pants.  The down jacket the same color as my ebony hair kept out the cold of the night, my breath frosting the air in front of me as testament to the chill that had crept up on us.  Warm snow boots laced up my feet and gloves covered my pale white hands.  The road was slick with ice, footfalls slipping with each movement as I attempted to kneel down.

    My camera was in my hands, the sleek professional instrument taking in the scenery on this chilled December night.  I had been taking pictures all my life, wondering when I would get my big break and be able to travel the world shooting images of wildlife for the National Geographic as had been my dream since I was a little girl.  Hell I even imagined myself touring with a band, taking professional pictures of them and seeing the globe…anything to be able to take photos and travel at the same time.  I didn’t want the rich, standard life that most American’s are brought up with.  I wanted to be an adventurer, see the planet.

    But alas at twenty-seven years old, I hadn’t even come close to that dream.  In fact I was stuck with the suburban lifestyle, working at a local newspaper and taking images of mundane occurrences in people’s everyday lives.  I was engaged to a man I loved, but he held me back, didn’t believe in my dreams and wanted me to be a ‘cute little house wife’.  I could work around that though, he was a good man and he loved me as much as I loved him.  Things could work and I was yearning for them to.  I didn’t have to have the dream that I wanted, but maybe something close could content me and make me feel good about where my life went when I was eighty years old.

    I turned away from the shot I had just taken and focused on a group of people off in the distance who were laughing and jesting.  They would make good press for the Christmas spirit.

    As I zoomed in and stared at the image, my heart stopped in terror and dread.

    Standing about a hundred feet away from me was my past, an illustration that was more of a slap in the face overdue by ten years.  Dark tanned skin stretched over a fit frame that towered seven inches over my slight five foot figure.  There was a smile on his lips and white teeth were a stark, beautiful contrast to his caramel flesh.  Deep brown locks framed his handsome face and touched the edges of his shoulders while a nose ring looped attractively through one nostril.  Bushy brows haloed chocolate colored irises that were lit up by the depth his happiness.  Suddenly, our eyes met.

    “No way,” I whispered, very nearly horrified, “Vic Fuentes…?”