The Darkened Corner

This story was inspired by a dream I had last night.  Go figure!


The Darkened Corner
By Bertie Williams

Cynthia Mumson's bedroom gave her the creeping chills.  It was pretty enough, lace frills, taffeta curtains and the brightest lights her Mom could install. Every stick of furniture was starkly white.  Yet, amongst her baby-doll collection and school band trophies Cynthia found no happiness.  That one corner opposite her bed always stayed dark.  At night sometimes Cynthia would swear she saw the blackness wriggle about as if trying to escape some unseen confinement.

Her mother told her it was a trick of the eyes.  That sometimes darkness made a person see things that weren't there.  Affter all, she wasn't an animal who could see in the dark.  Human eyes interpreted things differently.  Still, Cynthia hated her bedroom and often pleaded to switch rooms with her brother Robbie, or even take over the master suite.  These requests were shooed off by her mother as teenage angst.

"So many things bother a person at your age, Cynthia.  Next year you'll look at all these imaginary tribulations and laugh."

Cynthia grew angry then and retorted that it was not her imagination.  She suggested her mother spend a night in her room and watch the sullen corner's midnight activities.  Her mother merely laughed and told her to "turn your back and go to sleep.  You can't be bothered by what you can't see."

Cynthia tried that; she saw the blackness creeping up the wall, its tenebrous fingers searching for a way out.  She turned over and closed her eyes as tightly as she could to no avail.  In her mind the darkness had escaped the corner and was quickly covering the wall choking out any hope of light.  Turning over, she looked into the corner.  No, it covered no more of the wall than before.  Cynthia could not help but lay there and watch it waver and throb until she fell off to sleep.

Cynthia demanded that her room be re-painted.  Something lighter and brighter than the deep lavender she had now.  She wanted white walls - or perhaps a banana yellow, which choices her mother soundly declined.

"I will paint, but you must accept something more sedate.  Perhaps a soft pink?"

If that was the lightest she would be able to get out of her Mom, Cynthia acquiesced.  When they were moving her furniture out of the way, Cynthia pointed out the darkened corner.

"Do you see, Mom?  That corner is always dark.  At night it's as black as pitch."

"Is that what you've been complaining about?  I think it's because of the way your furniture is situated.  You see?  Your dresser cuts the light off from that corner and of course it's going to look darker than the rest of the room.  Don't worry, with a new paint job and brighter curtains and bedspread, it'll all be a lovely little get-away for you."

Cynthia smiled and prepared for school.  The painters were already beginning to lay their tarps and open paint cans when she left to catch the school bus.

Cynthia was not unpopular.  She had friends at school, took part in a dearth of school activities which flooded her mind in her efforts to escape the dark that haunted her nights.
She was not an "A" student, but she failed nothing.  Her heart was in music.  Many a day she delayed her return to her home by staying late to practice with one or more students in the school band. 

Lately her teachers had complained she was distracted and dreamy.  Off somewhere in her head instead of paying attention to lectures or what the class was reading from a text.  They began to send letters home with her, which her mother would never receive.  Cynthia wondered if she was loosing her mind.

She returned home that day and rushed into her room.  Soft white curtains wafted inward in the gentle May breeze, and the light pink walls soothed her.  She smiled, looking into that infamous corner to see that it was indeed lighter than before, now that her dresser was moved to the opposite wall.  Still, it seemed a tad darker there than the rest of the room, but the sun was angling lower and she shrugged it off, hoping that at last she had defeated the gloomed corner.

A telephone call interrupted her dinner and she asked her mom if she could spend the night at Sally's.  Her mom agreed and Cynthia hurried through her dinner and went to her room to gather her night clothes and Mp3.  As she turned off the light and was leaving the room she glanced at the corner.  It was blacker than ever.

Cynthia gasped, slammed the door shut and ran downstairs to where Robbie waited with the family car to drive her to Sally's house.  She was pale and Robbie questioned her breathlessness, but she explained that she was hurrying too much and that made her out of breath.  Robbie shrugged, put the car in drive and headed off.  Cynthia looked back at the house, at the upstairs corner window that was hers, relieved that for this night she would be able to sleep without the stained corner keeping her from peace.

The next day being Saturday, school was closed.  She spent most of the rest of the day with Sally.  They went to see a movie and ate pizza at the mall.  They window shopped and gabbed about boys and clothes and for the first time in a great while Cynthia did not think of the dreaded corner in her room.  Until it was time to return home.  She couldn't make it a weekend at Sally's because Cynthia's mom always insisted they attend church as a  family.  Cynthia's dad had been dead for eight years and her mother always claimed she felt closer to him at Sunday service.

Reluctantly, Cynthia returned to her home, solemn as if she were being led to her doom.  She entered her bedroom and stared wide eyed at the corner, daring it to show itself in the fading evening's light.  It did look darker, even Robbie agreed when she pointed it out.  He walked over, ran his hand along the lower wall and studied it for some time. 
"I think it's because of the way the paint has sunk into the wall, Cyn.  Some walls absorb color like a sponge - light too."

Cynthia shook her head in agreement and forced a smile as Robbie said he'd see her at dinner.  She was left alone at last in her room.  The dark corner vibrated softly, the darkness like a gel that wobbled and throbbed.  Cynthia left her room and headed toward her dad's old workshop.  She searched about and found his high-powered flashlight.  She would illuminate that corner once and for all.  No darkness could escape that beam. 

She returned to the room and placed the flashlight on her bed.  Tonight she had an ally, light, in the palm of her hand.

The night's hours sped by and soon it was time for bed.  She knew she would have to spend the night in her room, though she did not relish the idea.  Cynthia took comfort in the solidity of the flashlight and the fact that it could illuminate her entire bedroom if lit.  She would chase the darkness with bright light, that would defeat this shadow.

Cynthia fell off to sleep without incident.  The corner looked darker, but she was used to  the heaviness she felt.  She lay back, took the flashlight in her hands and drifted off.  At about two o'clock in the morning, she was wakened by a vibration that rattled her bed.  Sitting up she looked to that corner and saw that the spot of darkness had spread halfway up the wall.  It was growing bigger!

Cynthia aimed the flashlight at the corner, but the darkness lingered.  It was much more solid than previously, more accentuated about the edges.  Cynthia rose from her bed and walked to the corner, each step filled with trepidation.  She aimed the flashlight into the center of the darkness and wiggled it about trying to dissipate the cloud.  It did not work and she pulled back from the corner and ran to her bed.  Shaking and deeply frightened, she covered her head and fell back to sleep.

At Sunday service, she considered telling their Minister about the darkness in the corner of her room, but she knew that he would tell her mom.  She wanted to talk to someone, but who would not think her crazy?  At last, she decided that she would tell her Auntie Ruth.  Auntie Ruth would believe her; she was into Tarot cards and Astrology.  For Cynthia knew that this shadow was no natural occurrence.

She called her Aunt that afternoon and asked if she could come over.  Auntie Ruth was always ready for a visit from her niece or nephew.  Having no children of her own, she had been a large part of their lives.  Cynthia trusted that she would not disbelieve her, but try to solve the enigma. 

" . . . and that's why you have to come, Auntie.  I can't stand it any longer.  There's something there in that corner and I can't stay in that room!"

Her Aunt studied her for a moment, then said, "let me pick up a few things and we'll go to your house.  How about I spend the night in your room?  We could put the roll-away in there and I'd be comfortable enough.    What do you say?"

Cynthia was so glad to have someone spend the night with her in the bedroom that she agreed immediately.

Auntie Ruth arrived with fanfare at Cynthia's home.  Her visits were always so much fun.  Sometimes she would tell stories about when she and Alice, Cynthia's mother, were kids.  All the trouble they got into kept Cynthia's mother from playing at being perfect, for Ruth was quick to tell all of their childhood secrets.  Cynthia loved her for it, respected her and accepted her advice. 

She took Ruthie into her room and showed her the corner. 

"Yes, it does seem to be darker than the rest of the room.  When did you begin to notice this?  You've been in this room since you were eight years old, and I never heard you complain about it before."

"This past year, Auntie."

"Well, let me see . . ." and she opened a small duffle bag that she had placed on Cynthia's bed.

"We have, Holy Water, Sage bundle, candles blessed by Minister Copefield, and a compass."

"What's the compass for?"

"You'll see," was all she said.

"Now, how about a dish of ice-cream.  I could sure use some of your mom's homemade peach ice-cream."

"Okay," Cynthia answered, casting a glance back at the corner as they left.

***

Cynthia and her Aunt said goodnight and climbed the stairs to Cynthia's room.  Ruthie stopped Cynthia from turning on the room light and walked boldly into the bedroom.  She stood before the corner and studied it for a moment.  Then, she waved Cynthia in and told her to fetch the candles, sage bundle and  holy water from the bag she had left on Cynthia's bed.  She carried the things to her aunt who placed the candles in a semi-circle right in front of the corner.  Then she sprinkled the walls with holy water, lit the candles and the sage bundle, waving it over the walls and floor.

"Now," she said, "we'll get some sleep.  If anything wakes you, wake me."

They settled down to sleep.  Cynthia rolled over, her back to the darkened corner and fell off to sleep.  At two o'clock, her bed began to shake and she stood quickly and woke her aunt.

"Look!  My bed is shaking."

Ruth sat on the edge of the bed and agreed that yes, the bed was shaking enough to be noticeable, and, the darkness in the corner had reached at least five foot high.  She took the compass from her bag and set it down inside the semi-circle of light formed by the candles.  Cynthia hung back, watching her aunt's methods clutching her large teddy-bear to her chest for comfort. 

"Begone dark spirit!"  Ruthie commanded.

"Follow the compass point.  Go to the north; to that frozen place!"

Nothing happened, the darkness lay inert.

"Go!  I command thee!"

It wavered, expanded, filled the entire corner space from floor to ceiling.  Suddenly a black tentacle shot out and slapped down on Ruthie's head.  She fell to the floor. 

"Auntie Ruth . . . Auntie Ruth!"

Cynthia shook her aunt's arm, violently but there was no response.  Laying her head against her aunt's chest, she found that the woman's heart had stopped.  Cynthia screamed.
She continued to scream until the doctor injected her with some calming potion.  Aunt Ruth's body was removed.  The doctor said the old woman had died of a heart attack, and that the shock was too much for Cynthia.  He suggested a rest at the hospital and her mother, worried about her child's mental health, agreed.

For two weeks Cynthia stayed in the hospital.  She sat every day looking out of the window, blaming herself for her dear Aunt's death.  She would not return to her room, how could she now with that blackness and the memory of her Aunt's dead body prone on her floor.

Reluctantly, her mother agreed to send her to another aunt's home in Idaho.  It was all arranged and Cynthia was packed, her flight ticket in her bag.  She had not spoken since the incident and she refused to return to school.  She had bundled all of her trophies into a large laundry bag and stuffed them away in her closet.  She told her mom that she had no business thinking of happy things when she had caused her aunt to die.  No argument could change her mind.  Her mom hugged her goodbye and Robbie drove her to the airport. 

"Do you remember Aunt Carmella and Uncle Steve?  You were really little when they moved to Idaho and bought that farm."

Cynthia did not answer and Robbie did not force her.  He accompanied her through the check in, sitting with her until her flight was announced.  He hugged her, though she did not return the affection and took her hand.

"You'll feel better on the farm.  There's a lot to do out there.  Remember I spent a summer there two years ago?  Aunt Carmella will make sure you have lot's of work.  Don't think about all of this, Cyn.  Just enjoy the stay . . . okay?"  He looked into his sisters eyes and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.  The plane was boarding and he watched as his sister disappeared with the other passengers.

Cynthia took her seat, switched on her Mp3 and settled in for the three hour flight.  At least she would not have to be in her old bedroom tonight.

***

Uncle Steve picked net her placing her luggage in the rear of his pick-up he asked if she were hungry.  She answered "no" and they drove off.  The farm was quite a long drive from the airport and  Uncle Steve chatted away, telling Cynthia about the farm and the animals they raised.  He knew of the terrible incident that had come to pass and did not mention it at all.  By the time they reached the farm, Cynthia had learned a great deal about how to raise goats, chickens and cows.  She even managed a smile when Aunt Carmella came out to meet them.  While Uncle Steve carried her baggage inside, Aunt Carmella showed Cynthia around the house.  It was a large old farmhouse, with many rooms and lots of antique furnishings. 

"This is your room," Aunt Carmella said, opening the door onto a room with large bay windows that faced the front yard and bright daytime sunshine.  A soft breeze floated into the room adding the scent of alfalfa and flowers.  Cynthia looked into each corner, and saw no black entity, no darkness of any kind.  Relaxing after all those weeks of tension, she smiled at her Aunt and accepted the offer of a long, hot bath.

June turned into July and Cynthia was able to ease some of the heavy burden she felt.  She talked with her mom and Robbie on the phone and chatted with Sally about the farm and all the work there was to do.  She was constantly busy.  There were animals to feed, a vegetable garden to tend, fields to wander through and overall she began to feel like her old self.  Everything was going so smoothly she had thought that she would like to stay here a bit longer and asked her Aunt to look into the local schools.

Cynthia met a young man named Alf.  He was the son of neighboring farmer and they walked to town on Saturdays to buy ice-cream or pizza.  She invited him home to dinner that Sunday and her aunt planned a meal of fresh ham, potatoes and carrots, all from their farm.  She was at peace- she was happy.

Cynthia stayed up late on Saturday night, watching an old movie on TV.  Her aunt and uncle were already asleep, the farm work forcing them to rise very early in the morning.  When the movie finished, she walked up the stairs to her room, switched on the light and got ready for bed.  Country nights are darker than city nights, she was used to the absolute blackness and found her bed by long practice.  She lay down, smiling at the ceiling thinking of Alf. 

She turned in her bed as sleep began to overtake her and noted that the far corner was dense with a kind of darkness unnatural to any night.  She sat up and turned on her light.  The darkness remained.  She screamed, waking her aunt and uncle.  Her aunt said she saw no darkness, but Cynthia would not be comforted.  She could see it over her aunt's shoulder as the woman embraced her trying to comfort and sooth.  It reached across the ceiling, down the opposite wall and crept ever closer to her.

She began to scream again and would not be silenced until the doctor's injection stopped it and she was taken to the hospital.

Her mother and Robbie flew out to Idaho.  They looked on, confused and concerned for her as she sat in her hospital room without speaking.  She refused to sleep in a darkened room, demanding that a light be on at all times. 

"We can keep her here for a few days, but I recommend the State Hospital," the doctor said.

"What is it doctor?  What's wrong with my daughter?"

"Probably the loss of her aunt, combined with stress has caused her to break down.  They'll figure it out at the hospital.  Don't worry.  Yes, you can return home, we'll start the process of bringing her back to your state as soon as she's admitted and receives some treatment.  It would be better for her to be in familiar surroundings."

Alice and Robbie listened to the doctor and had to agree.  What else could they do?  Taking Cynthia home in her present state was not acceptable and they both wanted what was best for her.

Cynthia shared the room with a girl named Blythe.  She was pleasant enough, but spent a lot of time asleep.  Cynthia did not sleep unless she took the sleeping pill in her evening dose.  Most times she palmed it.  She could not afford to sleep, the blackness would be back someday and she had to be on her guard.

The rooms at the hospital were never totally dark, the lights were always dimmed so the staff could see the patients on their nightly rounds.  Two months passed without incident and then in September, right after Alf's visit on a Wednesday, Cynthia first spied a darkened blotch in the corner of their room, right beside the door.

She said nothing at first, then after the spot grew ever larger, she mentioned it to Blythe.

"I don't see anything . . ." Blythe answered.  "Which corner was it?"

"Over there, by the door."

"Hmm, don't see anything, Cynthia."

Cynthia shook her head but said nothing more. 

That night the blackness encompassed the whole of the wall by the door.  It pulsed and moved about.  She woke Blythe. 

"See it?"  Cynthia said, pointing at the corner.

"No!  I don't see anything dark.  Really, you belong here more than I do!" and she laughed.

Angered and frightened, Cynthia watched as dark projections reached out from the wall and closed around Blythe's throat.  She began to choke and Cynthia began to scream.  A night nurse and an attendant rushed into the room to find Cynthia bending over Blythe, the girl's face blue, her body lifeless.

***

Cynthia's mother and Robbie returned.  Cynthia had been deemed homicidal.  She was kept in a solitary, padded room.  She did not move, did not respond to anyone, not even her worried family members and constantly repeated, "the dark . . . the dark."

They left her in the hospital and returned home.  Her aunt and uncle visited frequently and so did Alf for a while, but there was no future for him with a sick girl, so, in the end he stopped visiting.  Not that Cynthia noticed, she was busy fighting the battle of the shadows in her mind .  They crept in on her during any time of day or night, they laughed at her inability to shake them off and whispered horrid things in her ear.  She was encouraged to stab a hospital attendant with her fork, break glass and attempt to cut her wrists, throw any object in reach at anyone who dared to speak to her and eventually was subdued with a straight jacket and medication.

It was a hot night for September, Cynthia, now free from her restraints lay on the bed in the room and looked at the ceiling.  The evening's light began to fail through her window and the softened room lights to come up.  She looked at the corner right at the head of her bed.  The darkness was there, almost engulfing her entire room.  She had grown used to it, to the secret things she heard from it, to the fact that the room light did no good in diffusing the darkness.  But, this night it was darker than any other had been so far.  She sat up on the edge of her bed watching it pulse and grow.

She waited, looking around at the darkness.  A wispy voice spoke to her, she did not understand immediately.

"Look . . .  under . . . your  . . . mattress . . ."

Cynthia pulled up the rear corner of the mattress and found a sharpened spoon, it's ladled part worked to a fine point.

"Do . . . it . . . Cynthia.  Join . . . the  . . . dark."

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she raised the spoon and . . .

In the morning they found her; wrists sliced.  She had bled to death quietly in the night.  They removed her body, notified her family and went about with the normal routine of the hospital. 

One month later a young woman was brought in and placed into that room. 

She refused to sleep, saying that the corner where her bed was seemed very dark and forbidding.  She began to stay awake and complained that someone named Cynthia was calling her into the dark.

The administration moved the girl and closed the room up.  Inside, the darkness waited, Cynthia's voice could sometimes be heard in the wee hours crying out, "the dark . . . the dark."


Word count: 3993