Monday, October 8, 2007

the dark

In a car, on a date, going to a house where we will stay, we are driving through a field, straight, with the headlights turned off; there is no light anywhere, and barely on his face in the pitch black, sometime close to midnight. I'm nervous; we are going fast. I ask him how he can see the road; I don't remember his answer. I stay nervous until we stop; in front of a house, we crawl around the outside, through a doorway, into more dark inside.

There is a quiet man, who whispers hello, he explains:

"They come out when there is light, the things outside." Past the pitch black window, he points in the dim room where he hides, though he does not seem scared at all. "If you can't see them, then they are not there. Be careful when you have to go outside, stay under the cloth over the box by the door. Don't let them know you're under there."

I am in the box with the boy who brought us there. In spite of my wishes, he makes light. I'm nervous. Everything becomes bright outside and I can see shadows interacting, oblivious to us; then they stop, stare, know we're there under the cloth; they come closer, all at once from everywhere. They're coming, three sides of shadows surrounding, bodies crawling closer; I'm madder than scared, with my anxiety; always afraid of the dark, til now.

The faces look at me, all at once; they're human, blank faces playing grenade games like sports, in the grass, in uniforms, as my mind prepares to negotiate.


Glacial Spain said...
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Sabra Embury said...

a dream

Robert said...

Can I ask how much influence your dreams have on your writing?
There's seems to be running images between your straight fiction and what goes on when you sleep.

Big fan, Ireland.

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