Little Bit of Light

Ch3 Solemn Dark

My eyes flutter open to the splintering wooden panels of my ceiling and the papery black curtains brushing over my eyes and falling back into place. Darkness has fallen over everything like a thick, wool blanket, heavy and uncomfortable, yet soothing somehow.

I've always wondered why night loved the color black, why not something vibrant like violet or royal blue. Maybe night loved bright colors once, but awareness of the evils in this world grew in her mind with age, and the presence of color was just a rose masking thorns.

The fuzzy outlines of clothes on hangers blur through my eyes. It's a weird thing when your mind is somewhere other than your body, and you wander back to find yourself somehow different than when you left it.

Soft skin of my toes and heels graze the rough, split panels. Weight shifts upon them and reminds me, once again, of the grotesque world I exist within. Cravings, yearnings tug at my mind. ' Go back to sleep, ' and ' you'll be happy there ' whisper around my mind, but I slump towards the door in spite of their temptations.

These are the times I wish most that things could be the way they were. Simple. Tranquil. Astonishingly, beautifully, incredibly perfect.

Through the black velvet waving around my eyes, a lighter grey square forms dangling from the inside of my closet like a fish from a rod. Residing in the only place it would be safe from the terror two rooms over.

Images flash behind my eyes, over the shadow static. A young boy, training wheels.

The flickering pictures are cut short by the realization that I'm crouching on the weathered wood, rocking back and forth.

Cool sensations flush over my knee. Finger by finger, unclamping from the opposite leg run over the now damp denim, then to my face. Rivers stream from the dense lashes  beneath my eyes to the heat of my cheeks, then snaking along side dimples, remnants of the ever-present smile that used to emanate from the joy within ... me.

I push off of the floor, stand up and shuffle, numb, to my dresser. Handle and frame creak as they reveal their sparse contents of the bottom drawer. One pair of light grey flannel shorts, nude papery scrub pants, and one pair of excessively torn black leggings.

The denim clings to my skin, and a thought occurs. How many tears would it take to make jeans this damp?

A final kick ends them up on the floor in a solitary pile by my closet.

Shorts feel like silk after the sandpaper of jeans, leaving me unsettled. Why should I have any luxury when he never could. Pressure fills the space behind my eyes and temples, threatening to soil the clean shorts too.

Blink it back Gena. You're strong, you can't go soft again. Don't do it.

Thoughts of putting the jean pile back on sink into my mind, but overall laziness won over that battle, the war between my eight ton conscience and mind isn't over though.

Cool, dewy air breezes bronze strands over my neck and shoulders, sending comprehension of the cold night shivering up my arms.

My vintage, black, leather jacket hangs limp from the hook embedded within the closed door. It suffices.

The now light weight door creaks open a crack to reveal a still wasted, still knocked out overgrown toddler atop the booze couch.

Ever-present, nearly empty cans, are narrowly avoided on my journey through them.

A creak escapes the front door as it moans its pleas to not leave it alone with the problem mere feet away. I leave it half open, so at least it won't have to face her. Some fresh air will do the place some good.

Earthy scents of pine sap and rich soil seem to dissolve the barbells strapped to my shoulders. The weight, floating around with the anti-gravitational black.

Weeds and grass stroke all surfaces of my feet and ankles, soft and gentle.

Outlining the forest rests a small, rickety swing. Old and worn, the last remaining artifact of a happier time. Welcoming and familiar.

Soft swaying lulls me into the subconscious. Thoughts, ideas, possible dimensions flood through and from my mind. Replacing each other in an instant, like honey bees for their queen.

Black warms to red ember as the sun awakens, and kisses the dark. Igniting the earth into fiery passion and parting to reveal a lonely, solemn blue. Alone and exposed.

At least he skies understand me.