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Love of Darkness

The gun lays on the nightstand on her side of the bed. He glances at it briefly. What is it doing there? He is alone tonight. It happens rarely and when it does it gets dark. The darkness is comforting. An old friend of sorts. Has it always been this way. Not exactly. He used to have a smile that was real. At one time there was substance to his gaze. Not now though. Darkness is here. It hugs him gently, calling him down into its void.

He stands up and walks over to the bedroom window barely noticing he knocked over the laundry basket. It is getting dark outside. He notices the moon is full. The moon is fat barely covered by the trees in his backyard. A stray cat stalks across the yard. He can't see its prey but he knows it is there in the bushes along the rock wall. He can sense its fear. The darkness allows him that feeling. Maybe to remind him of his own fear lying on the nightstand next to his wife's side of the bed.

A tear slips down his cheek. He remembers happier times. Darkness usually hides these memories but for some reason he gets a glimpse. It is of his son's birth. Another tear spills. He sighs wishing there could be another way. He turns from the window and walks back to the foot of the bed. The bed is made as usual. He looks at the phone and notices the blinking number one. Someone called? He never heard the phone ring. Darkness has a way of swallowing sound. He presses play. It is his wife. She is running late. She should be home in an hour. That's a relief. This gives him time to reacquaint himself with his old friend. Her voice has filled his head. Another memory break free from darkness. This one is of their wedding day. Another tear escapes. He shivers as if he were cold. Darkness must have tightened its grip.

He sits down on the bed. He glances around the room. Only good things have happened here. So why here? He lays down on the bed and stares at the ceiling fan. Around and around it goes pulling him further into the depth of darkness's grasp. He closes his eyes and tries to remember how it got like this. His marriage is strong. His children love him. He has a great job. Is it enough? Is that enough to live?

Some years back his life was much worse. He drank often. He had addictions. He has nowhere to go. Yet he lived. Darkness never visited then. Maybe darkness was always there, feeding his addictions, quenching his thirst. Could it be darkness was lonely? Does darkness wish to claim him for its own selfish reasons.

He sits up and looks at the gun. For the first time tonight he really looks at it. He studies it. It is so final. Its purpose is clear. It doesn't question its existence. It knows why it was put on this Earth. He picks it up and it feels right in his hand. The grip fits firmly in his fist. The trigger is smooth and cool against his finger. The taste of the metal is bitter but not alarming. His eyes sting with tears. The floodgate has been opened. The room blurs, He heart pounds faster. Darkness holds him like a lover in the night. It whispers in his ear. Through the gentle sound of darkness he hears his wife downstairs. Has it been an hour already? She doesn't need to see this or does she? She needs to know darkness is here. She must know it has never left. He will let her know his only true love has come to take him home.

He sees her standing at the bedroom door shimmering through his tears. She screams. He wipes the tears from his eyes. She runs toward him begging. He looks into her frantic eyes. At that moment she is an angel. A beacon of light reaching into the depths of despair. She pulls his arm down. The gun falls to the floor. She slaps him and pulls him close. Her body is trembling. Her tears splash onto his cheek. He smells her hair. The darkness begins to recede. The memories flood in. Their first child. Their first home. Their first kiss. The day he said good-bye to the darkness.

They hold each other. No words are spoken. Emotion is their only communication. She knows now the intimacy he has with the darkness. She doesn't understand their secret love afair but she knows she must be vigilant. She knows good-byes are not forever.

If you liked this post, buy me a Mt. Dew.
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fyi-there is a typo in

Unwashed Masses (not verified) — Tue, 01/15/2008 - 21:25

fyi-there is a typo in time...

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Thanks

Grinch — Wed, 01/16/2008 - 04:28

Thanks for the heads up, I fixed it.

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Hey baby I am not a writer

jenny — Thu, 12/13/2007 - 08:46

Hey baby I am not a writer as everyone knows. The first time I read this I thought this was about your feelings. I have come to realize that is just how writers are. I wonder if Steven King's wife is scared to piss him off! haha anyway this is good stuff. Love ya.

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Rewrite

Grinch — Thu, 12/13/2007 - 10:27

I actually want to rewrite this one. I know you didn't like this one when you first read it. I am glad you gave it a second chance.

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