The Dark Lurked
The Dark lurked, as always it watched, it was cold, it had been that way since the beginning, the warmth had all left it, spinning out into the new youngness that it feared.
The Dark had stayed, it had drawn in on itself to preserve what warmth it could.
The Dark saw her, she had looked many ways but this was new, never had she looked like this and never had she been a she before. The Dark hated her, the Dark wanted her, the Dark owned her, the Dark knew her secret secrets, secrets she herself did not yet know nor remember.
The Dark knew that she was not yet a full person, the Dark had seen this process a number of times, she was in a dark but it was a safe warm dark, so like the one the Dark coveted but this warmth would have still seemed so cold, the Dark knew – the Dark had tried it before.
The Dark hovered at the edge of the room, it was getting harder and harder to find somewhere to hide in these rooms, these rooms of bright glaring light, so like that which had strewn forth at the beginning. The rooms where bigger with stronger lights – where was the Dark to hide?
And yet there was always somewhere and the bright lights cast deep shadows especially when they broke, sometimes it was a flickering fitful Dark that the Dark had to play with. That was all the Dark had had for a while, even the woods were no longer dark, the sky marred by orange burnt light, a thing of cities and cloud.
True darkness lurked at the heart of it all but The Dark could not get there and would not want that coldness, that sucking hideousness they had fled. They wanted to be warm, they had just remnants of warmth, it had been enough for eons and yet… they watched her, an extension of self, hungry to devour such a fragile thing.
It was the wires and the lights within that hurt so much with this version of self – what was this? Never had they seen this before.
But it could not touch her, for that was annexation and as much as it hated her, as much as it loved her, it needed her to become, to devour, to be it’s mouth piece, it’s warmth sync. It arched a shadowy tendrils, risking the light and exposure, it trembled with the danger. The child breathed and stirred and turned over, dreaming a feeling of need as the incubator beeped a warning, the machine sustained and this was a deciding time.
The Dark retreated to wait once more.
Posted: Tuesday, October 22nd, 2019 @ 11:21 am
Categories: Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction.
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