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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/2022673-The-Night-Life
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #2022673
Depression, and it's nocturnal tendencies.
The Night Life


         Black.
         That was all Daniel registered at first, once he was able to register anything.
         Black.
         It was all around him, unbroken, encompassing every part of wherever he was.
         Black.
         The thought came to Daniel, although he was not sure from where it came, that this was not just darkness he was surrounded by. Darkness was, of course, merely the absence of light, but this blackness...he knew, somehow, that it had come from a place where light had never reached. It seemed to have weight, pulsating and pressing against him from all sides. It did not constrict, at least for now - just remained, a constant ripple against his body.
         Body.
         Daniel brought his arms up without thinking, hoping to ground himself, a little bit at least, by finding his own form in this blackness. And even as the more rational part of his mind was telling him he would see nothing, it was too dark - 'black as the eyes of the devil, kiddo,' as his grandpa would have said - his eyes proved otherwise. Arms appeared in front of him, pale and blurry, but definitely his. He could see the scars. Daniel clenched his fists and tried moving his arms again. He felt strangely detached and amorphous, every part of him feeling exceedingly heavy and light as air at the same time. But he was moving. That was a start.
         Move.
         Daniel registered that he was seated, though he could not determine in what position. Whatever he was seated on was uncomfortably solid, and frigid as well, as if he had found himself on top of a monstrous block of ice. He ordered his body to stand. It stayed where it was, and fear, as cold as the floor which he was trying to escape, clawed at his insides. He gave the order again, and felt his entire form strain upwards, fighting desperately to find the strength to rise. The body he had felt so oddly transcendent from before now felt like a prison, one built specifically for the purpose of keeping him locked to this freezing ground in the depths of this black sea. His heart was pounding now, and the blood it shot through his body felt like ice water. He focused his mind as best he could, and screamed to himself inside his own mind.
         UP!
         He was on his feet. The war waged to get to this position was soon forgotten, as two new things to register presented themselves. First, that the constant, pulsing pressure of the blackness on his body had grown more forceful - not by much, but noticeably. Second, that the blackness was no longer unbroken. It had appeared once Daniel had forced himself upright: a small pinprick of light in the distance. Tiny, dim, but most certainly there. And, minuscule as it was, cautious hope flooded Daniel's mind.
         Hope.
         Daniel did not know what the light was, but he knew he wanted it. Needed it. Something deep within him told him so, and he believed. So he started towards it, his body now much more willing to obey his thoughts. So Daniel walked. And walked. He walked for what seemed simultaneously like a few seconds and a few hours, but the light was not getting any closer. The first considerations of losing hope had begun to grow in his mind, when he saw something that made him stop dead.
         Dead.
         Yes, his grandfather was dead. Had been for many years. Daniel knew this. But the man he was looking at, though a bit blurry around the edges, could be no one else. The knowing smile, the pure-white hair, the piercing gray-blue eyes...it was all there. But it couldn't be there. The man spoke.
         "Everyone's got a trek all their own, kiddo. But that don't mean they gotta make it alone, ya get me?"
         Alone.
         Sadness stabbed at Daniel's mind. But before he could figure out why, he noticed that the figure of the man who could not possibly be his grandfather was blurring even more than before. Daniel reached a trembling arm out towards the man, though he was not sure what he intended to do with it, but as soon as it made contact, the man's form blurred completely. Daniel watched helplessly as what was left of the image disintegrated into dust, dust that proceeded to flow wistfully towards the light in the distance. It swirled around the pinprick like water circling a drain, then settled, and Daniel noticed that the light had now grown in size and brightness. Confusion and sadness were replaced, temporarily, with renewed hope. He started towards it once again, moving more quickly this time. He had to get to it. There was nothing else more important.
         Nothing.
         He encountered more apparitions as he continued ever forward. He passed right by most of them, their faces blurred and their words muffled and distant. Some of them, however, he stopped for: his brother, messy-haired and smirking, as always; his best friend from grade school, bright-eyed and energetic; his philosophy professor from university, thoughtful eyes complemented by thoughtful stroking of his beard; all of these and more, Daniel stopped for, listening to their words but retaining none of them. Each one, he reached out to, desperately hoping for some sort of purchase, but none came. Each one, dissolved into dust that was swept away, absorbed into the light that Daniel just couldnât seem to reach, though he felt as though he was practically sprinting. The light had become enormous now, blinding, and Daniel could feel its warmth licking the edges of his body, even as the blackness grew tighter and heavier around him. But he knew it was still so far away. So he kept running.
         Warmth.
         He felt it, suddenly, intensely, and it shocked him so badly that he slowed significantly. Warmth, slowly washing through his form as the cold had an eternity ago. Walking now, he searched his form for the source of this new feeling, and found it coming from his right hand. He moved his vision in that direction, and was shocked again to see another hand next to his, its fingertips pressed against his own. The warmth, he registered, was coming from this small contact. His vision traced across the hand, up the arm, and, finally, to the source.
         Jackie.
         She was there, next to him, walking with him, a sad smile on her face as she somehow looked at Daniel and the light ahead of them at the same time. For quite a while, or maybe just a few seconds, Daniel was too dazed by her sudden appearance and the warmth she brought to react. Then, a thought pierced his mind as though it had been carried there on a bullet.
         Her.
         Daniel no longer wanted the light, whatever it held, whatever it meant. He wanted HER. He needed HER. Without hesitation, he pulled his fingertips away from Jackieâs, meaning to throw his arms around her and never let go. He did not get the chance. As soon as contact was broken, Jackie - still with that same beautiful, sad smile on her face - disappeared as the others had. The warmth was gone as well.
         Gone.
         Despair wracked Danielâs whole form, and with it, the blackness pressed on him harder than ever. He began sprinting towards the light again, it was the last chance he had, he could hardly see, he couldnât breathe but he had to keep running because the blackness was trying to force him back down to the floor and if he just made it to that light everything would be okay because the light was where everything was okay because the light was where he knew he should be because everything would be okay if he just made it to-

         Daniel woke, shivering and covered in sweat, to the calm blue darkness of his bedroom. He lay there, unsure of himself, for several seconds, before bringing his hands up to wipe away the perspiration on his face. His limbs took some coaxing to move, he registered, as they were still somewhat gripped by sleep, but he managed all the same. That done, he groped to his left, searching for his section of the blanket, which he had once again fidgeted off of himself during the night. His hands finally met fabric, and felt the warm, peacefully sleeping form underneath it as well.
         Jackie.
         Pulling his bit of cover back over himself, Daniel looked over and regarded his wife, and managed a tiny smile as he felt warmth spread in the pit of his stomach. He reached a hand out again, gently stroking the sleeping womanâs shoulder, before settling himself back onto his side. Daniel closed his eyes, and drifted quickly back to sleep.

         Black.


© Copyright 2014 Chris TK (christdk1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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