By Philip Malazarte
Black. Everything is black. The sky, the ground, everything around me. I am surrounded by a world of ink. Yet, there’s a sliver of light above me. A little glimmer of hope. I rush towards it, stumbling towards hidden obstacles, working my way across the vast, dead space. My feet are bare, for some reason, and they already ache. A couple yards farther and my feet are bleeding, cuts from invisible rocks digging deeper and deeper. I’m running now, sprinting really, yet I’m not making any headway. It just feels as though I’m running in the air like those old-timey cartoon characters desperately trying to claw their way back to solid ground, to safety. But I push on, so tired of my world of black. So ready for a new world, somewhere far, far away. I run for what feels like days, running until my lungs feel like they’re about to burst.
Every day I collapse into a heap of regret and frustration. But still, I keep going. I push on because I’m done. Done with being in the dark. Done with being alone. I am sure there are people on the other side, people who know me, people who I’ll know. I’m certain of it. I carry on, yet the closer I feel like I’m getting, the farther away the sliver looks. I keep going, finally starting to make progress. My feet….I can’t even feel my feet anymore. It’s like my soul is just floating above my body watching its progress. Tied down to this depressing world with a tiny string, wishing it could just float away. Float away from its problems, from its body, from everything. But that tiny string -f it’s like it’s made out of titanium. A feeble, yet invincible anchor to the void below. I reach the mouth of the light, just as I’m about to give up, just as I’m about to lay on the ground and melt away until I’m just another part of the black. I stare at the entrance, dumbfounded, entranced for lack of a better word. I’m so happy. So…content.
I take the final step, practically levitating, into my dream world, and on the other side I find…….nothing. Nothing but more emptiness. My blood boils, my sight is tinged with red. I rage against this new world, screaming till my lungs are raw; beating the ground till my fists are bloody. I let loose all the anger, the frustration, the loneliness, the terror that I’ve been holding in. I scream at the unfairness of it all. As time passes, my voice dies in my throat, my anger leaves my body. I am left an empty shell, back at square one. Back in the void, but this time, it’s got a different name. The Light.
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