It's Gone In A Flash

INTRODUCTION:

So, you really want me to write about how to undermine some type of mysterious undertow of ridiculousness in the dark. That is fine—I bring four objective perspectives. Yet, open your mind; the darkness can play tricks.

***

The light in the room descends into dimness, and you are bound to a cold, unbreakable metal chair by your extremities. What kind of seating arrangement is indicated by its raised, hollow arms that leave your hands dangling over the edge. This isn’t a question—no mark needed.

Eyes focus on the objects in the room until the last bit of illumination goes out. Cold concrete, sweating pores of hibernating mold, and the crevices of block outlines make you start counting. 200…300… you lost count.

Water drips, drop by drop—your eyes move, hunting for an explanation—there is none. The heart beats in an erratic rhythm; it overcomes everything in your ear. Sensation rises under your pant leg, a tiny spot caressing the flakes of your skin. Tension in an arm, you cannot delete its presence. Can you shake a leg? Does the fabric set it free?

Time itself becomes bleak, unwilling to satisfy the need for how long it’s been. Dampness makes your fine body hair stand on end, as if it were thirsting for a drink. You lick your lips and swallow hard.

Breath is shallow until a creaking noise pierces the thumping in your chest. Is the door opening, or is it simply a figment of your imagination? Suddenly, your fingers of one hand turn cold; you twitch them, and they move with restriction. An aroma—a stale musk with a pinch of sweetness.

Burst—light, a new blindness. A giggle and a pattering of feet move away.

***

Now to commence on the attempt to make this second as veracious short as the first. Yet, do not seek awareness only ambition.

Held tight in my hand, its circumference is too large for my long fingers, making the grip weak. The shallow fabric caresses the strands on the top of my head, and softness embraces my shoulders. I forgo that there should be illumination, yet my touch struggles to find the beveled roundness to press. My heart and breath quicken as sounds deepen in my ears. It is as if a train is coming down the track, full of leaves and wind-driven, with its horn—a hooting owl.

I restrain myself from blinking while my thumb discovers the salvation I longed for.

Click—nothing.

Press harder—dead.

My legs move toward my ribs, and my arms wrap around my knees.

A tree branch scrapes; I take a thick breath and exhale as the scent of my perspiration reaches my nostrils.

Would leaving this entombment allow darkness to fade? I reach out and touch the canopy, but it neither parts nor gives way. My body quivers as my hands run along the barrier, hunting for the embedded teeth.Teeth that are tightly bound.

Rising to my knees, squatting under reluctant space, do I have the wrong area? Where is it? I press harder with my palms encircling the mass until something sends pain. My finger traces the rigidity until coming to the tiny triangle.

The air is fresh, rushing to my face, and ghostly shadows appear. I crawl until the sky reaches my eyes.

I shall never come to camp without checking the flashlight again.

***

Let it be known that I shall seek to capitalize on the narrative to create an extraordinary appeal. If death is simply a new beginning, then so be it.

The howls pressed deep against the breath as Josh hung by his hands. Clinging to the immortal texture of earth in the peaks of emptiness. The eclipse quickened as his toes heaved him merely inches at a time. Shorter shadows scream into his ears, hold or power into the abyss. An abyss that defies certainty and may solicit his soul.

Clouds feed their hunger, removing the cosmos. Eyes prowl for a fracture in a quarter pale. Nothing ahead. Josh slides right, pierced by blades of weakness—his breath shallows. Thoughts narrow, firing wickedly as blackness vanquishes. The heart stammers through coursing blood. Nonentity shifts.

Inhale, feel the arc, become rooted.

Absence flutters, its breeze sweeps, collapsing the senses in reality. Grasp tightly as the haze lifts him out of solitude. Josh blinks away the ragged dust, water dripping as dimness appears.

Hold on, don’t let go.

***

Now the question breaks into a whirlwind of intent. In a flash, worlds turn, colliding with uncertainty and lost perspective.

Swoosh… Swoosh… came to Bendy's ears. The ground vibrated under her feet—muscles contracting—standing in mid-motion. She gulps a breath as thump, pound, and snap smack against the solid sides that entrap her. The legs under her fold, as all light suddenly is void. The noise is now screeching, palms to her ears.

Breathe, Bendy…Breathe.

Like pins to a cushion—plink—plink, her hand moves to press against a wall. Pain suddenly bends her fingers. Sensation runs down into her wrist, a touch; it is wet. Pressure builds behind her eyes, and tears leak as a pop, a creak twists the ceiling. Something hits her head, and her arms raise to block more.

It’s fine, you will be okay.

Sirens pierce through the dying wind, her pulse still rapid. Bendy leans and pushes the door, which moves a little. Cramps take hold in her thighs. She rises slowly. Both hands force forward, the door growls in response. A jerk cast her backward, and the space shrinks.

“Help! Someone, help!”

A dog barks… it begins to scratch.

The fallen wall scrrrraps and creaaaks, both limbs thrust upward.

“No, Mingo. Stop!”

Whining under heavy breaths—she squats and thrusts forward, shoulder first.

All is still pitch-black.

CONCLUSION:

If darkness is the void of light, and light is the absence of black. Then life cannot be gray, but a rainbow of colors. Yet, if the eye adjusts, we can see a muted world. Would that be better or worse? To each their own conclusion.