Dark Room
By Sayuru Dabare
Peter couldn’t remember how he got here. He recalled very little. All he could remember was running. He had been running away from something, or someone. He had locked himself in a room. A very, very small room. Or was it a room? He didn’t know. He felt around him and all he felt were walls. Walls all around him. They were as soft as pillows yet rough as jagged iron. They were ice cold yet boiling hot. Peter knew there had to be a door, a way out. The room was dark, very dark. Peter was practically blinded. He had to get out, or did he? Nay. The door was locked so needed a key. But he didn’t have one, he didn’t want one. Peter was scared of what lied beyond walls. He was scared of the outside. This room gave him closure, protection. When he was in it he was safe, happy. He was alone yet protected.
Peter closed his eyes and huddled inside this space. He knew little else to do there. He could hear voices, voices from the outside. He felt as though they were calling his name. Searching for him. But he wasn’t going to let them find him. So he closed his eyes and waited, trying to ward away the fear of the outside. Fear of the scorn and the ignorance, for he was safe.
But it didn’t work.
Then the voices faded, Peter opened his eyes. He saw light, he felt a breeze wash over him. He felt dazed, numb and dizzy but still aware. Sobriety seemed far off and away. He couldn’t feel the walls. They were gone. Replaced by a large room. Or was it a room? He gazed around it. Its length stretched to infinity. Its ceiling went up to eternity. Its walls contorted into a monotone maze as grey as a storm cloud. Where was he? He didn’t know. Peter walked through this place, worried and unnerved. He wanted to find a way out but he couldn’t. The dead silence made him uneasy. He was in an infinite place, but he was the only one here, alone.
He then heard an odd sound. A sob, a whimper or a yearning call. He then heard a scream that curdled his very blood. He was frightened by it so he ran. He felt as though something was chasing him. Something horrible. He dreaded it, it was dread. It terrified him, it was terror. He ran for what felt like hours along this infinite maze taking every turn he could. But every turn led to the same place. He was going nowhere. He felt it getting closer. He saw darkness loom over him. He gazed at it with terror as it consumed him. He heard a horrible noise, akin to sobbing, so loud it made his ears ring. He listened hopelessly as he was overcome by it.
Then the silence returned.
He opened his eyes, he was still here. Yet also somewhere else. The maze was gone and he was in a house, or a hovel? Or a palace? He didn’t know, he couldn’t think. He was still scared and worried. He wandered around this nebulous structure. Again it was just him, only him. He had no one. No one wanted him, that’s what he thought. This place felt strange and familiar at the same time. Like he had been here before, many times. It felt like home and yet like a prison. Peter was paranoid. He felt like the walls were closing in and around him. The air was damp and smelled of salt, like the very walls were made of it. He meandered around, he glimpsed shadows on the wall, were they people? He was too scared to see, still afraid.
Soon he heard the dreaded screech. The sound alone made him run. He had worried about it so here it was. He never saw it, only felt it, but still he ran. He couldn’t decide where to turn or where to go. He was alone, isolated. So he failed. He screamed in agony as darkness consumed him one last time.
Peter couldn’t open his eyes. He felt like he was falling. Falling infinitely. Bright colors flashed before him. Like a fever dream. He fell, fell down the endless pit. The colors made his head spin. Everything was bright yet ambiguous. The violent noise made his ears bleed. He was overwhelmed. He couldn’t escape. He thought he’d be happy, he wasn’t. He was alone with no one. So down this abyss he fell. Down to a melancholic end, to self-annihilation.
Peter couldn’t think like this, he needed to escape. He had to. He called out. Something he had been afraid to do. He called out to others. To someone, anyone. He called out and they answered. He felt hands grab him, soft hands, and familiar hands. He straightened his mind, he concentrated. He closed his eyes. He drowned the noise and fear away, the fear of the outside, of scorn and ignorance. And he embraced it.
And he felt warmth.
When Peter opened his eyes he was shrouded in darkness. He could feel the walls around him. He could feel the room, the dark room. He felt something in his hand, he looked and saw key which radiated light. Peter saw the key hole through the darkness. He had the key, he had had it all along. He could leave. He heard the voices but he wasn’t scared anymore. He reached out to open the door but he felt held back. He felt arms reach and grab him. Rough and withered arms. He heard whispers from the walls. Stay they uttered, stay in safety. Be happy. They tried forcing him back down. But Peter resisted. He shoved them aside forcefully and opened the door. The outside loomed brightly over him. But Peter stepped out from his dark room and embraced it. Alone no more.
Fin.
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