/yesod

Tag: darkness

  • the end

    Crowded afternoon at the store, lots of activity and customers. 

    A guy gets my attention, excited to be buying the massive brass singing bowl we got from Tibet. I am excited for him as well, since it’s several thousand dollars. Not a bad way to end the day.

    I get cornered behind the counter by a difficult customer, raising hell over a minor issue. Her entitlement is almost impossible to satisfy or redirect. I’m especially irritated to be dealing with her while my ex-wife has stopped by with our daughter. 

    Last thing I needed, was her scrutiny when I am in my own place of safety and power.

    My wife and our daughter are behind the counter with me and it’s something of a relief when the customer finally leaves. Then my ex-wife exits as well. 

    And we close up for the evening, the golden light of early summer streaming in through the windows.

    Heading for home, my wife takes her car and our daughter rides with me in mine.

    The highway is busy and as we snake through downtown on the infamous S‑curve, a moving trailer in front of us begins shedding household items, sending the other cars spinning this way and than to avoid the appliances, boxes, and bookcases suddenly littering every lane.

    Chaos everywhere.

    I manage to dodge several obstacles, while narrowly avoiding a few vehicle pileups in adjoining lanes as well.

    I can, somehow, hear my wife shouting from her car behind us.

    Unable to maneuver any more, I drag the wheel hard to the right and lodge the car into the relative safety of the shoulder. In the rearview mirror I see a swarm of unsuspecting cars and trucks bearing down on us, so I tell my daughter to get out and we run for an gap in the side that opens onto small set of concrete stairs leading down to the street below the overpass.

    Suddenly a darkness descends over the city and from the black skies above, a deep and terrible voice rumbles forth...

    WOE TO THE PEOPLE OF THE EARTH
    THE DAY OF WRATH IS UPON YOU
    WOE TO THOSE WHO DO NOT SERVE THEIR LORD
    WOE TO THOSE WHO HAVE MADE THE EARTH THEIR GOD

    The voice rattles the windows in the buildings around us, it vibrates in my chest and molars. 

    I was not afraid but a deep sense of dread came over me and all hope left me.

  • dark ride

    I am surprised to see a Ferris wheel looming over the downtown district, pale against the darkening sky. As evening descends, we make our way towards the carnival.

    It is dark everywhere. There are no flickering lights, no music — just the mechanical clack and clank of the rides, the muted murmur of the crowds.

    (This seems ominous now, awake. But at the time, dreaming, it did not seem so.)

    Bright rings of neon dart overhead, flying saucers, small and almost toy-like. I remark to my companions that the adult rides are further down.

    We find ourselves in a queue, jostled by children at every side. At the front of the line I watch a kid climb into a small bucket-like car and rattle away on a track into the darkness.

    “It’s a ghost train!” I exclaim. “I love a good ghost train.”

    I realize I’m speaking in a British accent and make a conscious effort to drop the Doctor Who act.

    At the front of the line, two queues feed into the start of the ride. Everyone fumbles in the darkness, taking turns to climb into the little carts. I let one of my friends go ahead of me and then wait for a small child to take their turn.

    As I’m getting ready to take my turn, a fat middle aged couple shove ahead of me dragging their little pig-faces son with them.

    I step back and watch in amazement as they try to squeeze their combined bulk into the one-person cart. An impossibility, so the husband lays down over the cart and his impossibly bloated wife lays on top of him, her doughy face turned up to the sky. Their son scrambles on top of this quivering bulk and the cart spins off as they lie there like starfish with their limbs out for balance.

    My turn. I do my best to fit my lengthy legs into the next cart. It’s a bit cramped and I consider making a joke about having to fold myself in half but I realize that everyone is waiting for me. So I do my best and soon enough I’m off in my little cart.

    It’s a bit of a disappointment, too dark to see anythIng. I rattle along, vague shadows passing by.

    There is a little pause at a station, where a worker waits before sending me on through the last bit of the ride. 

    This point in the ride is staffed by a young woman with long dark hair, her pale skin glows in the semi-dark and her soft voice has a light English accent. 

    She flirts with me for a moment while we wait. I feel awkward and self-conscious all folded up in my little cart. And she’s too lovely, I can barely look her in the eye.

    It’s a relief when the ride moves on — the final sequence is a rolling section of track, a child-sized roller coaster. The ride opens up and the sky is lighter now. I coast through a landscape of unkempt hedges and stunted topiary animals as the ride comes to a stop...

    . . .

    The morning after the fair, I wake in a hotel suite overlooking downtown. The sky outside is pale and the light is cold, even harsh.

    The woman from the ride is there, wrapped in a thick white robe. As she passes by the bed on her way to the bathroom, I pull her down to me. 

    She protests as my hands slide over her hips, exploring. “I have to take a shower,” she gasps as I slide my thumb into her. I feel her constrict around the base and she closes her eyes for a long moment. 

    But then she pushes off of me and heads to the shower, leaving me there to throb with frustration.

  • the shadow on the stairs

    Dozing on the couch while the baby has her bath, I dream…

    …and at the turn of the stairs I look up to see a shadow slowly slide down the wall and onto the floor, like a black puddle of oil.

    From this pool, a figure slowly rises — an almost cartoonlike shape of a man, pale eyes like saucers peering out at me. 

    It drifts slowly down the stairs, halfway emerging from the shadow on the floor . . . drifting towards me.

    I run down the stairs and through the darkened living room, falling on the floor — my arms and legs suddenly heavy — immobilized. 

    I watch, helpless, as the shadow drifts down the stairs. 

    And I struggle to free myself when...

  • flames, new and old

    [This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated June 16th, 1998]

    ...and, somehow, in my dreams I hear a huge crash — metal and glass — ignoring it, I dream on...

    ...a flickering light from outside — flash of orange through the blinds — send me up to the window, women’s voices, laughing and talking . . . and I see them gathered around a fire, a smashed and twisted wreckage to one side, smoke from the fire rising through the branches above . . . I run out to comfort them but...

    ..I’m awake, my son crying in the next room...

    ...dreaming again, this time the Queen of Middle Night puts in an appearance of an old girlfriend from years past — the red haired dancer. Old flame, slowly kindled, surprisingly warm. Her family home, my son and I just passing through . . . she embraces me, a big sister, a past lover — though she was, in reality, neither. Passing through the rooms, everyone sleeping quietly, I see a black puma chained in a dark corner. It blinks once, green eyes blazing, hungry. I walk away. Slowly.

    We move on and, when it is time, I go. Her farewell kiss is surprisingly sweet...

    ..and, in darkness, I am awake once again.