As a child I often had strange thoughts, as I'm sure most children do. Having unusual thoughts floating through a childish mind isn't immediately unusual, and parents only show concern when a child becomes vocal about their weird flights of fancy. No one ever really asked me about my thoughts, and even if they did, some things are best left unsaid. Even as a child I knew that I probably shouldn't share some of my crazy thoughts.
It all began one day, when I was in the toilet. At the tender age of 6, I was minding my own business, my brain decided to ask me 'what if flushing the toilet too much, brings a monster to life?' Hmm. Then I was stuck, truly stuck, sitting on my porcelain throne. Should I flush the toilet? But what if not flushing the toilet will unleash this beast instead, what if it's just a trick? I remember crying, sitting bare bottomed over the dilemma that I had found myself in. I think my mum saved me, somehow. But every trip to the toilet since then was an inner torment, a grim reminder of the terror I felt that day. The fate of the world had seemingly rested in my chubby, 6 year old hands.
Over the years, other strange thoughts have come and gone. With some lingering longer than others, but always following the same theme. A singular action, carried out by me, ending the world or unleashing some terrible monstrosity upon mankind. Whether it be something small, like never knocking three times or less on a door. Would two knocks complete some ancient, yet unfinished ritual? In turn summoning a demon forth from hell, burning all of the world alive in its wake. Or whether it be something ridiculous, like closing my eyes until the fluorescent lights finish blinking on in my office. If I have my eyes open, I might see into another dimension. Everyone knows that seeing something like that creates a pathway between the two dimensions, right? My brain was always providing me with these little instructions, it was always there to pester me with these warnings.
'Don't kick that plank, it's loose. It'll definitely cause a building collapse.' 'Don't look behind you three times, we are walking at night! Don't you remember that story? The one about raw head? I know it was fiction, but these things can happen!' 'Don't tap that wall, the ceiling will totally collapse. Might even cause an earth quake.'
The thoughts died down with age, which was so good. I couldn't stand always feeling so responsible, all the time. Having that weight on my shoulders was draining. I suppose that I also like the normalcy, most people don't think such weird things. I could have moved on, I could have just left it all behind. If not for the light bulb.
You see, I've lived in my home for 10 years now. I keep to myself, I don't know my neighbours but I see them now and again. My home is nice, it suits me fine and I'm happy here. Behind my home, there is a row of houses that directly mirrors my street. Our houses are separated by a dirt path and our mirrored back yards. Nice wooden fences; matching council house windows, hopefully you get the idea. Each on my street has a direct view to the back windows of the houses on the opposite street, and visa versa. Everyone was just close enough to see when people were home, but far enough away that you were fine if you liked to hoover naked.
For ten years; the house behind me has been occupied by the same person, or people. I know that someone must live there! Lights in other rooms go on and off during the evenings, blinds go up and down in the windows. But, for ten years, that one light bulb has always been on. Always on, never covered, never hidden from view and never, ever off. At first, I assumed that it was a bedroom, in the same place as mine. I too prefer the small comfort of the standard 'box' room, rather than the king sized room at the front of my house. It wouldn't be too unusual to assume that there was a child, or even an adult, using that room as a bedroom. Perhaps our schedules were just too different, and I missed the bulbs' off times. Besides, it was their electricity bill after all! What did I really care?
After a long while, it became a curious fascination. How odd, for someone to leave a light bulb on for so long. How strange, that they don't even have curtains in that room.
Over time, it turned into something more than a fascination. I would look slyly out of my window now and again, just to see the bulb hanging from its wire. Doing nothing other than lighting up an empty room. Why was the room so bare? From my vantage point I could tell that the room was empty, no furniture, no curtains and not even a light shade for the poor lonely bulb. What was the point? It boggled me, truly. I often thought of the bulb, it seemed wasteful really.
Years passed, and my obsession grew and grew. Sometimes I was angry, angry at that damn bulb. It was just there and I wanted to know why! I had never, ever seen a human in that house. The lights still alternated in the other rooms, as if people were living a life in that place. But I never saw any other signs of life there, the windows and doors remained closed. No sounds of children, pets or even the tv ever floated on the breeze over to my home. I never smelt freshly cut grass from the garden, yet the grass always seemed well trimmed.
The bulb was on, just on all the time. I realised that it must be there for a reason.
'It's to keep the dark away.' That's the logical reason, and I knew that my brain had been wrong before. All of the stupid obsessions I'd had before had been wrong, but this one just felt so right. I became the unofficial watcher of the bulb, it had to stay on. The darkness would swallow us whole should it ever go out. It can't go out, never has in 10 years. That was my motto, and I was the proudest member of my own little fan club.
What does it really take to keep monsters away, to keep demons sealed in their realms and to keep evil away from our homes? Light! Light has kept us safe. None of the other things I've done before mattered, none of those childish games were the true saviour of us. The light bulb is! The the protector of the bulb!
For the first time in 10 years, I saw the darkness. It took over my light, in the space of one blink. I knew that I had to save the light, I knew that I had to get that bulb back on before the world was swallowed whole by the inky darkness. I tried my best, and that why I'm here now underneath the shattered remains of our old protector. I'm here, huddled in the suffocating darkness and I can feel it inside of me. The darkness is killing me, I can feel the cold tendrils seeping into my skin and tearing me apart. But I don't regret trying, I don't regret jumping my fence and leaping into the creepy ever cut garden. I don't regret smashing into this strange house, with its sentient light switches. I don't regret slaughtering the demons that I found in here, pretending to be surprised at my entrance. Their bright red blood splashing onto me, as they screamed and gurgled in broken english. I regret cutting myself on the glass of the smashed back door, maybe I'd have been faster. Maybe, I could have gotten here quicker. I regret not being able to save the light. I regret not locking the door as another demon knocks, telling me to come out. It's calling to me in perfect english, telling me that it's 'the police'. What a joke, the world is ending and these demons still want to play games. I regret that the darkness won't kill me, before the demon does.
