Prisoner of Darkness: A Short Story

Image courtesy of hyena reality at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of hyena reality at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

 

The darkness oh, so terrifying hour after hour. Time is no longer present in my mind. I lay here my eyes open; light is not coming to them or any picture. Only darkness fills these gorgeous, blue eyes that long to see the light of day. A mere beam – bright or dim -any will do as long as I can see again!

If I should do so, may I never see darkness again! Let the light shine forever for me, and in my dreams to roam always in my mind’s sleep. Dreams full of happiness and nothing else no more of this gloom before me. My eyes are tired of it, and I am even sicker of it then they are tired!

Strange isn’t it how two different things – fear and sickness – can be so alike. So odd to say this, but true, oh so true. Fear never willing to give up till it has taken over my mind. Sickness of darkness wanting the same as my fear – me.

How can I ever go on like this? So many days have passed by, and I don’t even know where I am! I scream out loud asking anyone who hears to help me. No one responds to my cries for help. I cry louder and louder until my throat is sore beyond belief, wanting more than anything for someone to come to me. Still no one comes. I continue crying for help even with my throat burning. I do not care if my voice becomes a whisper; I just want someone to come! I can’t stay like this in the darkness – the fear, the sickness – it must go!

If I could rip this darkness away, I would, but it is a blanket covering my eyes that can’t even tear just a bit, much less all the way. If I could, I’d gouge my eyes out just to be able to see the nothingness. It would be better than the blackness I see. I would, but my hands won’t move to do so. They, along with my arms, stay wrapped around me trying to bring comfort where there is none to give.

When my hands and arms do respond, it is to eat the food and drink that I suddenly I smell at odd times. If only I could stir up the fighting strength to find my way out myself, but the fear and the darkness that took it out of me long, long ago. I remember all the times when I crawled along the floor – my hands feeling the wooden boards beneath me – my knees and feet also touching the boards as I moved across them.

No matter how long I crawled straight ahead, off to the left or right, I never found a door or even a hatch. But there has to be a way in and out of here, as an unknown person leaves food that cannot arrive by magic. I have never found it nor heard any entrance way open not even a creak. Nothing, nothing at all, and yet I have survived all this time here all alone against this floor.

I wait and wait for someone – anyone – to come, but instead there is nothing but silence. Why must my voice be the only sound? Why? I am sick of having fear like the small child I had been so long ago. I never imagined it would return and hold me prisoner. But at least as a child terrified in the pitch darkness of my bedroom, when I cried out, my mother or father would come into my to comfort me. Here now there is only myself, and I can’t even give support to my person?

Suddenly I realize there is wetness against my cheeks, could it be, yes I am crying. Before I know it, my calls for help resume. “Anyone who hears me please, please help, please rid me of this darkness! Please, I can’t do it by myself!” I repeat this again and again. Then out of blue I hear footsteps. Caught off guard, I stop crying out and strain in the sudden quietness, hoping my ears are not fooling me. The more and more the seconds stretch out, but the footsteps do not come back. Come back, come back, I scream out loud, come back!

I do not know why I do not stop eating and let myself go. How the food and drink I smell appears near me I can’t not tell you. When I do smell it, I eat it to survive for what? There is only darkness for me. If I could only, I would convince myself fade away and die. The world outside of this living one would certainly be preferable to the darkness that envelopes me and the cries for help that I make that never bring anyone. If only my sight would return bringing the will to survive and fight this terrible fate. I have more than repented for whatever I did to deserve this! Just bring back some light I beg you, just a sliver of light it is all I need! It is all I need!

 

Prisoner of Darkness: A Short Story