The Light

The Light

The light burrowed itself deep into every crack and crevice that had for so long convinced itself such a thing never existed. The light brightened the pupils of every person who dared to foolishly look up at the wonder instead of away. The light entered the city after thirty years.

He’d seen the light before, once, when he was too young to remember how many years he spent with it. How he loved the light, he ran, fell, and rested through its watchful gaze. His first teetering steps were taken under the light, and he’d watched others take their last under the same light. When he felt joy, he shared it with the light; when he felt anguish, he diminished it with the light. The light was what he knew, and all he ever wanted to know.

The extent of his knowledge had remained closed until one day when the winds howled their sympathy to the foreboding pain.

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He had been outside, crouched down and absently picking at the grass that grew near the roots of a large oak tree. The grime and dirt of the area collected on his knees, painting a picture most children had come to be familiar with. He had not looked up, save for trying to identify the occasional unusual birdsong, and was otherwise wholeheartedly engaged with a minuscule part of the vast world he lived in. And he had not let his mind drift until the very blades of grass he was whispering secrets to started to sway, the swaying quickly evolved to shaking, and at once he was acutely aware of the crusted earth trembling beneath his lazily sandaled feet. His primary conclusion was to blame it on a rather angry kingdom of ants, but the longing for an adult answer rapidly overtook his ideas. Realizing there was nothing in his power to quell the sudden uncouth, he snapped to his knees, sending a jolt through his body, and took off running.

He did not come to a halt until he saw his mother, grasping her shawl and treading towards him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly parted with the notion of words. It was a breathless murmur when the words finally escaped her mouth, and at once, all his questions ceased.

Recently, in the hushed conversations of passersby, a common theme had started to form. Just outside the town walls, a group of unruly and aggressive individuals had started to congregate. At first, this news was passed in indignant snickers, but quickly, the knowledge that these individuals had started to behave past their barbaric nature and develop connections and civilization of their own, quickly shrank smug smirks, instead replacing them with pursed lips and furrowed brows. Now, the countenance of others was the least of anyone’s worries. A traveling merchant had caught a glimpse of the aliens examining the strong-standing town walls, seemingly with ideas of infiltration. “There were three of them!” he had announced from the position he occupied on the stone floor of the city square. “Each as barbaric as the other!” he made sure to accentuate the third word with an equally barbaric scowl, baring his teeth to the onlookers. “And they stood!” he continued, flicking his gaze from each townsperson’s face. “Just a walk away from where you sleep!” At this, the silent group broke out in gasps and hushed whispers.

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Looking from his mother's face, over her shoulder, and out onto the familiar hills, all the previous wails of the wind seemed to fade. Instead, his ears started to pick up a noise, one he’d never heard before. Not the squeals of children, not the laughs of shared company, he could hear very clearly, the sound of hooves, their brute strength flattening each mound they rode upon. And he could hear the shouts, not of any comrade or friend, but of a strange nature, one he could not quite place. Quickly, he convinced his mind to work past any bounds it had met before, and instantly, he connected the oddity to the rearing shouts of the villagers.

“The feared are coming.”

It was seemingly quite obvious that his face portrayed what his thoughts understood with his mother’s words, as she seized his arm and took off, him in tow. They did not cease their hurried pattering of footsteps until his vision became occupied by a large, limestone cave. Realization dawned on him faster than the mother-son pair could rush in, joining the majority of the townfolk already huddled inside.

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As the sightings of the ‘aliens’ started to become less of a bedtime story and more of a waking reality, the townsfolk had a myriad of ideas being discussed each day in the town center. One man who ran a local tea shop tried to convince the whole to “Screw it! Fight them! Be a man!” This idea was quickly shut down, both by the sharp stares of the audience and the coughing fit that soon overtook the tea shop owner, transforming his speech into a sheepish murmur. Multiple others of the congregation had suggested abandoning their long-loved city, but the shouts and jeers of the rather patriotic townsfolk quickly silenced their ideas. After much speculation and the threat of a brawl breaking out, all had reached an agreeable argument. It was common knowledge among all about the vast mountains that held the town. In everyone’s eyes, though, they seemingly had the capacity to hold far more.

They started digging. It started small at first, just a couple of people who did not want to spend their evenings at a dining table, but as the sightings increased and the shadows looming over the town grew near, it became a full-blown operation. Mounds and mounds were being cleared, each hill harboring space for an entire family. Soon, plans were developed for who’d live where and with whom. The only thing the townsfolk could do was sit in their homes and pretend. And they did pretend, for a day, turning into two days, turning into a week, and rapidly, the only time one would ponder the escape was when they accidentally let their eyes drift to the strong-standing mountains and remember what waited within.

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Now, as he looked around at the expressions painted on every face, he remembered as well. This was it. Life was finished, and darkness was starting.

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The next days consisted solely of wary glimpses of the once familiar outside and trying to either calm oneself or soothe the wails of friends and family nearby. As the finality of the situation started to seep in after a week, the tears showed only as stains on the cold, hard rock, and apprehensions were swallowed before the taste entered one’s tongue. And after a month, traces of smiles started to appear again as most got situated in their new bearings. There was, of course, the occasional hint of longing and nostalgia, yet all tried their best to dispel it in order not to further depress the already depressing situation. The months led to a year, and the now cave dwellers had no thoughts of their old surroundings. They’d established holidays, working systems, running water, plenty of food, and lamps, which quickly replaced the light. Life was perfect. The feared could have the outside for all they cared. This life was theirs and only theirs. They were prospering, children were being born, with no idea of the light, believing the world had always been made of stone. The only hints they got were from stories being told of the bravery and wit of their grandparents.

Although everyone seemed to have moved on, even grimacing at the mention of their past lives, he could not help but feel a sense of deep sadness. He missed the light. After their retreat into the caves, he had not once felt the loving gaze of the light on his now pale skin. Each day, he spent hours reminiscing to the point that he did not speak, save for the occasional grunt when seeing a former loved one. The only one he loved was the light, and he had lost it. Once, he only offered a murmur when his mother fell into old age and soon became enveloped in a world unknown to the living. After the passing of his mother, he had absolutely no traces of his previous self. His once childlike features grew drawn and angry, his once sun-kissed skin became almost translucent, and his hair, before perfectly well groomed, became wild and unruly, a perfect physical representation of his soul. Now, whenever those who were once dear caught glances, they’d take a step away, and hush whispers about ‘the loon’ who was pent up on a life no one else wanted to remember. But he did not once let it break his deep meditations on the light. He had wholly forgotten every year save when the light stopped, when his life stopped.

That was until one fateful day. He had been sitting on a rock, swaying back and forth on its uneven surface, murmuring to himself in his head about the light. Nothing was off, not to anybody. Not even to him. Not until he heard the grinding of stone against a surface and footsteps. The noise snapped him out of his delirium, and all felt silent. Yet the noise continued, it continued until it was so blinding that it started to block his vision, it drowned out all his senses, all his thoughts, the shouts from his companions, and managed to drown out the simple words “They’re gone!” from above. He stared at the dark entrance, not a single idea or revelation clouding the moment. Children shrank behind their parents, while others who once frolicked with him wept openly at the sight. Slowly, the mottled stone that had remained stationary for more years than he could count started to turn, and small stones wedged in the cracks started to fall. He could not stop himself from dropping to his knees and letting out a wail of happiness as small flickers of light blinked their eyes at him from the grating stone. He started to sob uncontrollably, his cold, wet tears pooling in front of his knees and threatening to touch his bare skin. His hands were shaking, the ground was shaking, but the light was not. It flowed in, steady, warm, all he had dreamed of, all he had hallucinated for the last thirty years. He reached out a hand, the trembling shaking the tears off in small droplets, and flexed his fingers towards the light. He felt it, he felt its loving hand caress his fingertips, he felt it grasp his hand in two of his and give it a welcome, long-awaited embrace. He felt his heart beat as it had never before; it beat until the only two things that remained worldly to him were the light’s touch and the increasing pattering of his heart. His eyes widened as a fresh wave of tears rushed to his eyes, blurring his vision and stinging his body. He did not notice the sudden halt of his rapid heartbeat and panting breaths until he fell forward towards the light, his face making contact with the stone slabs beneath him. As he felt the stillness overtake his body, he flexed his fingers towards the light’s touch and forced a last, bleary glimpse before the darkness took him, now forever.