True dark is not something a city girl like me is used to. We have lights everywhere and if there isn't light you start to get nervous. We cityfolk think our lit up skyline is one of the most beautiful things int he world, glittering against a dark sky like stars (that we can't see because there are lights everywhere in the city).
No, true dark is always on the outskirts, in the country, or in the wild. Where there is no light pollution, no cabs, no sirens, no streetlamps, no late night restaurants, there is true dark. I have always been frightened by darkness. Perhaps this is because I'm not used to it as a city girl, but for whatever reason I have many memories of turning the lights off on our second floor before racing as fast as I could to my bedroom, trying to outrun the darkness that was nipping at my heels. In third and fourth grade, when I was scared of mummies, I became convinced that one would hide in the darkness of my closet. My solution to this was to leave my closet light on all night long (a solution my mom did not like very much) so that no mummy could teleport into it.
It's not that I could never find darkness peaceful though. I loved my first apartment because the shades blocked out the light in my bedroom so that I could wake up when I wanted, not when the sun decided it was time. I loved being able to lounge in bed, getting all the rest I can (and as someone who could fall asleep right now, that sounds lovely) and blocking out the outside world. In that way, darkness felt safe.
But true dark, this night terrified me. I was in my friend Linda's car and her headlights went out. We had been driving around the suburb she lived in, just passing some time before we were going to head to her house and relieve her babysitter. It was fine as then, we had the lights of her car even if there were no lights on the road (suburb may have been a kind way to describe the remote area she lived in). But then, her lights went out (like a light I suppose). Linda remained calm and just chuckled, making some joke or another about how she could travel these roads blindfolded but never expected it to happen like this. I was petrified. There was darkness all around us, it had finally caught up with me. All of the running from floor to floor and all of the flashlights and all of the closet lights left on for hours and all of the neon signs and streetlights had only delayed this inevitable capture. The true dark was winning.
Linda seemed to get a bit worried when I didn't answer, so she reached out to touch me. I flinched horribly, fearing it was the true dark that had let a shadowy tendril reach me.
(Prompt by Lisa McInerney)
No, true dark is always on the outskirts, in the country, or in the wild. Where there is no light pollution, no cabs, no sirens, no streetlamps, no late night restaurants, there is true dark. I have always been frightened by darkness. Perhaps this is because I'm not used to it as a city girl, but for whatever reason I have many memories of turning the lights off on our second floor before racing as fast as I could to my bedroom, trying to outrun the darkness that was nipping at my heels. In third and fourth grade, when I was scared of mummies, I became convinced that one would hide in the darkness of my closet. My solution to this was to leave my closet light on all night long (a solution my mom did not like very much) so that no mummy could teleport into it.
It's not that I could never find darkness peaceful though. I loved my first apartment because the shades blocked out the light in my bedroom so that I could wake up when I wanted, not when the sun decided it was time. I loved being able to lounge in bed, getting all the rest I can (and as someone who could fall asleep right now, that sounds lovely) and blocking out the outside world. In that way, darkness felt safe.
But true dark, this night terrified me. I was in my friend Linda's car and her headlights went out. We had been driving around the suburb she lived in, just passing some time before we were going to head to her house and relieve her babysitter. It was fine as then, we had the lights of her car even if there were no lights on the road (suburb may have been a kind way to describe the remote area she lived in). But then, her lights went out (like a light I suppose). Linda remained calm and just chuckled, making some joke or another about how she could travel these roads blindfolded but never expected it to happen like this. I was petrified. There was darkness all around us, it had finally caught up with me. All of the running from floor to floor and all of the flashlights and all of the closet lights left on for hours and all of the neon signs and streetlights had only delayed this inevitable capture. The true dark was winning.
Linda seemed to get a bit worried when I didn't answer, so she reached out to touch me. I flinched horribly, fearing it was the true dark that had let a shadowy tendril reach me.
(Prompt by Lisa McInerney)
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