Direct Denigration
A cold wind rustled through a room where only an empty rocking chair sat unmoving. A candle on the mantelpiece threw its little flaméd arms across the room, but the dim light it carried was not enough to light up the world around it. It managed, though, to light the harsh angles of the rocking chair. Across the room, however, a form stood that was not graced at all by the candle's thin light.
"Won't you answer me," came a deep melancholy voice from a form in the corner across the room. To this, nothing stirred - not the rocking chair, not the light, not the candle's flame. Again, the voice came, this time deeper and soaked in the reveries of a darkened soul. "I know you heard me," the voice said firmly, the sound of bitterness hidden under every word. Then, from the floor came a thin, airy voice.
"I can't," the voice trembled softly, almost inaudible. "I don't know how to."
To this, the form of the man made no answer, made no motion. Only, the darkness seemed to expand and make the space between the form and the high voice even greater, even darker than before.
Then, a breath was drawn slowly as if it pained the breather to draw it. "Please, I..." the thin, quiet voice began hesitantly, "...I'm trying to pray."
To this, the man in the corner moved slowly toward the rocking chair. As he did, a form contrasting his own became apparent at the rocking chair's base. It was the form of a ghost-like girl with long charcoal hair covering her face and arms. She was curled up on the ground around the base of the rocking chair, preventing it from rocking at all. Around her head was a small pool of silvery liquid that reflected the quavering light of the candle above her.
As if trapped somewhere between a dream and reality, the footsteps from the corner could be heard only as soft echoes throughout the room. But in spite of their dulled sound, the girl knew that the form was coming closer and closer to the place she had curled herself. It was the last thing she wanted - that form coming any closer to her, seeing the silvery pool at her head, looking on her form twisted around the base of the empty rocking chair. As the muted footfalls fell closer and closer, dread filled the girl's tiny frame, until it infected her very bones. She made to reach her hand up into the air, to try and stop him from drawing any nearer her. Instead, she felt the hem of his cape. She gasped and withdrew herself even more into the fetal position around the rocker.
"Please," she gasped breathlessly.
The dull footfalls stopped. "You can't," her trembling voice continued breathlessly in a state of terror. "...can't come any closer..."
The footfalls now fell backward, but only a single pace. A hopeful welling of emotion filled the small fragile frame, and she allowed her head to raise from the silvery puddle - allowed her eyes to meet the form. There, cloaked in the blackness of the small space with slivers of yellow-gold light dancing from the edges of his cape, the man stood motionless. She could hardly make out his full stance beyond the darkness, but her mind made the image that she easily would have recognized. Her very soul seemed to lurch as she stared at the hollow image.
It would have been just as her mind had painted, save the stone expression upon his once fair edifice. There, her mind wanted to paint sparkling emerald gems and golden strands - but the night would not allow her. The darkness, instead, painted ghastly images of dark mixed with shadow. Blinking against the slivers of light that seemed to recede from his shape, the girl again allowed her head to fall. "You have to go now," she managed, but it was almost more of a question.
He did not answer, but turned away from her - the hem of his cape brushing her arm as he did so. A slight wind disturbed the frail light of the candle, and suddenly, he was gone. The girl, feeling the cold as a door opened into the night and closed again, shivered and pulled her legs in tighter toward her torso. Tiny tremors echoed throughout her form as new silver streams trickled into the pool below her, where she someday hoped to drown herself.
Somewhere outside, the form of a tall man with a deep voice that had last touched a slowly fading girl moved out of sight. Somewhere in the world, it moved amongst an addled forest of trees and harsh light. Somewhere, it went on living, forgetting the dark room, and the candle's frail light, and the girl whose tears made silver puddles to drown in.
*******
-RK
"Won't you answer me," came a deep melancholy voice from a form in the corner across the room. To this, nothing stirred - not the rocking chair, not the light, not the candle's flame. Again, the voice came, this time deeper and soaked in the reveries of a darkened soul. "I know you heard me," the voice said firmly, the sound of bitterness hidden under every word. Then, from the floor came a thin, airy voice.
"I can't," the voice trembled softly, almost inaudible. "I don't know how to."
To this, the form of the man made no answer, made no motion. Only, the darkness seemed to expand and make the space between the form and the high voice even greater, even darker than before.
Then, a breath was drawn slowly as if it pained the breather to draw it. "Please, I..." the thin, quiet voice began hesitantly, "...I'm trying to pray."
To this, the man in the corner moved slowly toward the rocking chair. As he did, a form contrasting his own became apparent at the rocking chair's base. It was the form of a ghost-like girl with long charcoal hair covering her face and arms. She was curled up on the ground around the base of the rocking chair, preventing it from rocking at all. Around her head was a small pool of silvery liquid that reflected the quavering light of the candle above her.
As if trapped somewhere between a dream and reality, the footsteps from the corner could be heard only as soft echoes throughout the room. But in spite of their dulled sound, the girl knew that the form was coming closer and closer to the place she had curled herself. It was the last thing she wanted - that form coming any closer to her, seeing the silvery pool at her head, looking on her form twisted around the base of the empty rocking chair. As the muted footfalls fell closer and closer, dread filled the girl's tiny frame, until it infected her very bones. She made to reach her hand up into the air, to try and stop him from drawing any nearer her. Instead, she felt the hem of his cape. She gasped and withdrew herself even more into the fetal position around the rocker.
"Please," she gasped breathlessly.
The dull footfalls stopped. "You can't," her trembling voice continued breathlessly in a state of terror. "...can't come any closer..."
The footfalls now fell backward, but only a single pace. A hopeful welling of emotion filled the small fragile frame, and she allowed her head to raise from the silvery puddle - allowed her eyes to meet the form. There, cloaked in the blackness of the small space with slivers of yellow-gold light dancing from the edges of his cape, the man stood motionless. She could hardly make out his full stance beyond the darkness, but her mind made the image that she easily would have recognized. Her very soul seemed to lurch as she stared at the hollow image.
It would have been just as her mind had painted, save the stone expression upon his once fair edifice. There, her mind wanted to paint sparkling emerald gems and golden strands - but the night would not allow her. The darkness, instead, painted ghastly images of dark mixed with shadow. Blinking against the slivers of light that seemed to recede from his shape, the girl again allowed her head to fall. "You have to go now," she managed, but it was almost more of a question.
He did not answer, but turned away from her - the hem of his cape brushing her arm as he did so. A slight wind disturbed the frail light of the candle, and suddenly, he was gone. The girl, feeling the cold as a door opened into the night and closed again, shivered and pulled her legs in tighter toward her torso. Tiny tremors echoed throughout her form as new silver streams trickled into the pool below her, where she someday hoped to drown herself.
Somewhere outside, the form of a tall man with a deep voice that had last touched a slowly fading girl moved out of sight. Somewhere in the world, it moved amongst an addled forest of trees and harsh light. Somewhere, it went on living, forgetting the dark room, and the candle's frail light, and the girl whose tears made silver puddles to drown in.
*******
-RK
2 Thought(s):
We must all confront those things that haunt us from the past, hm? And unfortunately it's not just a one-time thing. The dark man comes back, many times when we don't expect it.
But everytime you confront him, there's more time until he comes back again. And then more. And more. Eventually...you won't even think about him anymore.
I suppose this story would be more aptly titled: The Shadow of the Past. For often, the past returns to us only in a shadow. Then, once it leaves, forgets us more quickly than we can manage to forget it.
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