Darkness
Title: Darkness
Summary: There are many things hidden in the dark.
Darkness
Were it not for the candle, the old man would have fallen long ago. Instead, flame danced along the wick, straddling its length and consuming its essence. The wax that was anchored to the brass candleholder was old, and it remembered the power of the dark. Not the pitiful darkness experienced nowadays, light present in the grimmest of shadows; no, it remembered the true darkness, the one that would suck all happiness, the one that would consume your mind and blind you to your thoughts.
The darkness that could kill.
The old man knew of the old ways, knew what happened when people abruptly died, by accidental means or by another’s hand. He knew that some creatures had no fangs, no claws, no bright red eyes that dripped malice onto one’s soul; unlike those who were portrayed in stories. These were the creatures of true darkness, the ones who could tempt the chaotic element of a soul, pushing and pushing past the breaking point. They would draw out the happiness, draw out the light, pretending that it had never existed. It is the darkness that is real, the darkness which is comforting, a balm against change and anxiety, the bringer of ultimate peace. ‘Join Us’ they would say. And the victim, ill-versed in these ancient beings, would believe- and belief, as most magic-users will say, is the power behind everything.
And so the old man uses the candle to show others the light, the warm bliss that could draw people to the side of hope, the only true way of getting through this world. The demons of thought and despair shy away from this candle of old, leaving behind frightened children that quake in their bodies, knowing in their souls that they had come close to something that night, something that would have taken their sense of self. It was the old man’s duty to comfort them.
But he knew his time was coming, his candle waning in the false light of all things modern. The air he breathed corroded his core, making everything seem harsher, burning away childhood memories of green meadows and water so pure it sang. The people thought they were safe in the false light, blinded by their own intelligence. Some sensed the patient creatures of the dark, sensed the failing candle. They were the ones with the memories of the past, not the vestigial memories shared by their brethren, but with a true understanding of the risks.
The strain felt by the old man is the most visible in darkness, his inner light fading with time. He talks to the candle now, trying to get it to understand what’s happening. He does not realize he is losing faith, the one thing that has been able to renew the candle throughout the centuries.
He forgot one rule, his mind becoming as muddled as those he tried to protect. He forgot that one must never invite the darkness.
Summary: There are many things hidden in the dark.
Darkness
Were it not for the candle, the old man would have fallen long ago. Instead, flame danced along the wick, straddling its length and consuming its essence. The wax that was anchored to the brass candleholder was old, and it remembered the power of the dark. Not the pitiful darkness experienced nowadays, light present in the grimmest of shadows; no, it remembered the true darkness, the one that would suck all happiness, the one that would consume your mind and blind you to your thoughts.
The darkness that could kill.
The old man knew of the old ways, knew what happened when people abruptly died, by accidental means or by another’s hand. He knew that some creatures had no fangs, no claws, no bright red eyes that dripped malice onto one’s soul; unlike those who were portrayed in stories. These were the creatures of true darkness, the ones who could tempt the chaotic element of a soul, pushing and pushing past the breaking point. They would draw out the happiness, draw out the light, pretending that it had never existed. It is the darkness that is real, the darkness which is comforting, a balm against change and anxiety, the bringer of ultimate peace. ‘Join Us’ they would say. And the victim, ill-versed in these ancient beings, would believe- and belief, as most magic-users will say, is the power behind everything.
And so the old man uses the candle to show others the light, the warm bliss that could draw people to the side of hope, the only true way of getting through this world. The demons of thought and despair shy away from this candle of old, leaving behind frightened children that quake in their bodies, knowing in their souls that they had come close to something that night, something that would have taken their sense of self. It was the old man’s duty to comfort them.
But he knew his time was coming, his candle waning in the false light of all things modern. The air he breathed corroded his core, making everything seem harsher, burning away childhood memories of green meadows and water so pure it sang. The people thought they were safe in the false light, blinded by their own intelligence. Some sensed the patient creatures of the dark, sensed the failing candle. They were the ones with the memories of the past, not the vestigial memories shared by their brethren, but with a true understanding of the risks.
The strain felt by the old man is the most visible in darkness, his inner light fading with time. He talks to the candle now, trying to get it to understand what’s happening. He does not realize he is losing faith, the one thing that has been able to renew the candle throughout the centuries.
He forgot one rule, his mind becoming as muddled as those he tried to protect. He forgot that one must never invite the darkness.