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*Updated*
Into Darkness-coming soon
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The End
-Coming Soon
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Poetry
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Am I blind?
No, here it comes. Some light starts to filter in and I see the trees around
me.
Where am I? I can’t see anything. It’s night all around me, black with no
stars. Their dark shadows against me, as I can barely see. It must be night.
Is that the moon beyond the trees? Is that what gives off this light? It
must be full then, since there is enough light for me to see a path.
I start to walk down it, and I can see that the grass is matted down. No
weeds have grown, and it is bordered by flowers. I can’t really see what kind
they are. There isn’t enough light for that.
Should I bend down to see them? Maybe smell them?
No, I want to see what lies at the end of this path. There has to be
something.
There always has to be some end to things, life has death and day has night.
This path has to have an end. Otherwise there is no point for me to walk down it.
Is that it. I think I see a clearing up ahead. There seems to be more
light, and the path is getting wider.
Yes, It is definately a clearing, and that is also where all the light is
coming from. There must be a fire up ahead. Probably some campers.
I wonder if it is a father and son camping trip, or maybe some teens.
Such a waste of time. I hope that is not the end I am coming to. Then this all
would so worthless. To think I walked all this way just to come upon some
campers.
The light gets brighter forcing more, darker shadows against me. The
tree’s hands are over head and the shadows stem from them as though since the
trees can’t reach me they seen them instead.
I actually feel a little fear from them. I haven’t been afraid of
the dark since I was a kid. Still now I feel it in my chest. That old pumping
as the heart beats hard, trying to break through my ribcage. The buring inside of
my lungs as they don’t get enough oxygen.
Why am I so afraid?
Because you are all alone in the middle of the woods, and not sure where you are
going or why you are going there.
I am not talking to you. I haven’t been alone to talk to you since I was a teenager.
I’ve grown up now. I am a business man who is moderately successful, and doesn’t have
the time to be talking to the voices in my head. Go back to sleep.
I must hurry to that clearing, to that light.
I was only trying to talk some reason into you.
Go back to sleep you damn voice. I don’t want to listen to you anymore. Rest in
peace, die, do whatever you like, but leave me alone.
There, much better.
The light is so white. It can’t be a fire. Fire has more of a yellowish light. This
light must be something else, not a fire.
I remember when my father took me camping once. We had came to the
campground and set up the tent. Then he went back into town for his business meetings.
After that he took his clients out to dinner.
I didn’t see him again until late that night when he came to the tent to sleep. On
the way out he had stopped at home to change out of his suit and his some old clothes.
So that the next morning when we woke up, we could pack up and go back home.
But for that night, while I was alone out there in the campground, I had started a
fire for myself. It had gotten cold, and I needed it to keep me warm. It was also
something to do to get my mind off of the lonliness. That fire had burned a yellow light,
not white like the light just a few feet away.
So what is that white light, if it is not a fire?
Does it really concern me?
Weill I have come this far.
I don’t know why I continued down the path for so long now without thinking
about why I was there.
I take a glance behind me, and see why. That darkness that I felt before, when I
thought I might be blind, was behind me. The path that I had wlaked on was gone.
Nothingness is left in it’s place.
I shouldn’t look behind me anyway, right?
I turn back around and take the last few steps, into the clearing, and into the light.
Am I dead. Is this the light that I have always heard stories about? It is so
blinding.
And If I am dead, then how did I die?
The light. My eyes must be adjusting to it, because I can start to see shapes.
I see a man. He sits against one of the trees around the clearing.
I can’t see to well what he looks like. He has clean shaven, and short hair, but I
really can not see much of his facial features.
“Who are you?”
“So polite aren’t you. You don’t even say hello first.” He said.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I didn’t feel like answering your question.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t feel the desire to.”
“What do you feel the desire to do?”
“Rest.”
“Yeah, well I don’t like to rest. So why am I here?”
“Sit down with me. Smell some of the roses.”
I can’t believe this guy. He dodges every question I ask him. I have to continue
on. There has to be some reason why I would start to walk out here. A reason as to why
I am out here.
I turn back to the direction I had come from, and see that the path I had came in
on was not there. It was covered by the trees.
I look all around me, and see that there is no path out. I am trapped in the circle.
Should I try and escape.
“You can try and leave. Go right ahead, but why would you. It is so peaceful
here. Why don’t you just rest?”
I can’t take much more of this guy. I can feel the heat already rising to my face.
“Okay, you say I can leave, how? The trees are too close together for me to get
through.”
“Then rest. What is so important that you have to do it all through your life? You
need to just sit down for a few minutes. Relax. Breath.”
“How in the hell do you know what I need? I don’t know who the hell you are or
who in the hell you think you are, but you don’t know who I am. So tell me why you
think I need to take a rest. I have never seen you before. So just shut up, and let me get
out of here.”
I couldn’t stop myself from yelling. This man’s mindless babble makes me just
want to explode, and I am.
I mean, what does this guy know about work. He’s here resting in this forest. I
doubt he really know how the world works outside of his trees and flowers.
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Wrong with what?”
“About just wanting to stay in here with the trees and flowers.”
I must of thought out loud.
“Plenty. I mean, what is there to accomplish? What have you done in you life?”
My eyes are starting to burn from the intense light that is still around me, but I can
still hear. I hear him as he starts to laugh.
“Do you really know what I have done in my life?”
“Yes, let me guess. Nothing but sit out here and live off of the land.”
“Something like that. You could say I am more of an artist. You see, I created all
of this that you see.”
This guy is outrageious.
“So your God. Then why have you let the world get so bad.”
“I didn’t let the world get so bad. Free will did, and once I gave you free will it
just all slipped through my hands.”
“And I take it you are fond of the color white?”
“It has a way of being associated with me, yes.”
“Well, I am sure when I get back I can get you in a room whre there are plenty of
whites walls for you.”
“You think that I am crazy. Well that still shouldn’t stop you from resting.”
“What is it with you trying to get me to rest a little bit.”
“I just want you to slow down. Don’t you wish that your father would have
slowed down and spent more time with you.”
My body is numb. I don’t know how I fel about this guy anymore. There is just
too much going on. I feel heated with anger, but my legs are weak and rubber.
“It’s different for me. I don’t have any kids. So just lay off of me. Why the hell
do you care anyway.”
“You still don’t believe that I am God. Here, let me turn down the light a little.”
The light around me fades, and I can see his eyes. I still can’t make out any
distinct features in his face, but those eyes. Their blue diamonds that I just can’t help but
look at. Maybe I could see his face now if I wanted to, but I was trapped in those eyes.
Then the light is blinding me again, and I can barely see him.
“Go back on the path, and this time smell the roses. Slow down a bit.”
I turn around and see that the path is again open. My legs start to walk towards
it, but everything has become so slow and dreamy. I feel like there is a wieght attached to
my ankle, and it makes each step that I take, a struggle for ground.
From behind me as I am walking away, I hear him say one last thing.
“Make sure to tell your son, Raymond, that you love him.”
What son?
***
My eyes open. It was a dream that I have left behind. I am lying in my bed,
listening to the shower, and talking into my tape recorder, wondering if dreams really do
mean anything.
The shower stops. The shower curtain is opened, and thuds of footsteps, a pair,
walk out. Then the running water of the faucet.
I watch the door, waiting for Lynda to come out.
She finally appears with a towel rapped around her chest, and looks over at as I lie
on the bed.
“I have something to tell you.” She says to me as she walks over to the bed and
sits down by my midsection. She looks at me, and then stares down at her hands.
I place the tape recorder on my nighttable, and then comfortingly, I take her hands
in mine.
This Is The Rough Draft.
The Final Draft is Currently Being Submitted to Various Magazines.