The girl arrives at the blue-gray paneled house; overgrown bushes encroach on the brick wall that separates this world from the rest. She walks through the garage. Bicycles are splayed haphazardly on the concrete, a decrepit ping-pong table crouches in the corner, one leg missing. A draft much colder than the bite of the air outside meets her as she lets herself into the basement. She tiptoes over stacks of fabric, some neatly folded but most crumpled into balls and shoved into moving boxes. She slides past stacks of books that seem too old to be touched. Her teeth are chattering, yet the wood-paneled walls give the room a warm glow.
She reaches the end of the hall and cautiously turns the doorknob. The girl sighs, choosing darkness over reality. She flicks off the light switch and welcomes her world’s disappearance. The blackness seeps under the doorway and into the hall. It creeps into the corners of her closet, climbing between stacks of sweaters, hanging itself alongside frilly dresses of velvet and lace. It follows her under the comforter, winding its way between the sheets, settling on the pillows that her bright red curls toss on each night.
One night, the darkness moves from her bedroom and climbs into the girl’s mind. It steps from her pillow and follows the tunnel from her ear to her brain. The creature begins its swift descent on her thoughts. As the girl withers away, the darkness flourishes. It brings tears that water the bags growing under her eyes. It unpacks its boxes in the corners of her mind, making itself at home as the girl becomes a stranger in her own skin.
She lets the darkness move into her life. She lets its gray permanently settle on her colors. She trades her bubbly energy for exhaustion. She trades the laugh that echoes long after feeble jokes for the weight of the creature that lives with no light.
The girl doesn’t ever turn on the lights anymore. The darkness has promised her world won’t come back.
