The door opened slow and creaking; the noise of the rickety door frame synced to my heart beat, or was it my heart beat to the noise? I couldn’t tell then, and still can’t now. All I knew was that the door was bolted shut. And then it opened. And when it did, it felt like an eternity. Like one eternity after another, the door creaked and rattled until it was finally open. I was blinded by the immensity of the light. And just as quick as the light blinded me, it faded to plunging me into darkness.
Back then, I couldn’t say what was scarier, the light or the darkness. Now, I think I can honestly say they both were terrifying. Standing in the between space of the door war, I was in limbo. The room I was leaving was completely lit up white, light flooded into every crevice and nook. The room that was now opened up was uncomfortably dark. Sticking my hand into the room, it disappeared into the black, but the same happened in the lit up room, my hand disappeared into the light.
The door frame was my island of safety. Moving forwards would risk losing myself to the darkness. Going backwards, the light would consume me. I can’t tell you why I did. How I got the courage to plunge myself into the darkness. Why I chose what I chose. All I could say was that the doorway was the beacon of hope, the earlier room was passé. The suffocating darkness or the blinding light? I think the darkness was more alluring because at least I expected the monster to be true, honest to god monsters. I didn’t know the truth of that statement and I still don’t but I do know that when you close your eyes and face the darkness, it’s just as dark with them open.
I closed my eyes and stepped forward and left the comforts of the door frame. One step at a time, I walked as if I was on a balance beam. I kept my arms out far enough to keep from falling, but close enough to not accidentally brush up on something. With my eyes closed, my imagination provided the picture before me and the monsters around me.
I couldn’t tell if I was going straight, my imagination said yes, but reality neglected to answer the question. Within my mind, I was a tight rope walking fiend, and then I fell. I hit the ground rather hard, forcing my eyes open. Lights and colors flashed across the scene as I re-shut my eyes. Thinking about it now, I should’ve been more observant when my eyes were open. But they were shut tight now; I groped around the floor to stand up when I found something. The anatomy of the object had me identify it as a flashlight. I didn’t turn it on at first, I was scared to. What’s worse than not seeing the monsters in the dark? Seeing only one of them with the flashlight. I got up and kept going forward. Or was I just retracing my steps? At the time, if I thought about it, I would have panicked. It’s good that I only thought about it just now. Back then, with my eyes closed, I turned on the flashlight at last. It seems stupid, why would I walk with my eyes closed but the flashlight on? Part of me said the monsters hate the light. The other part of me said open your eyes. If you think darkness is terrifying and a flashlight is a fantastic invention, I would have said you were a moron. It took courage to voluntarily plunge myself into complete suffocating darkness; but opening my eyes with a flashlight took one of a noble character that had courage and bravery. That wasn’t me. Never was or ever will be, I thought at the time. Stubbing my toe on something in front of me said otherwise. My eyes forced open to see a light in my face. A quick closer inspection produced panic. I always hated mirrors at night and that freaked me out. I dropped my flashlight and light exploded everywhere. Everything was illuminated for a brief second until the light re-concentrated back to the flashlight. The mirror in front of me was cracked and rusted on the edges. The flashlight showed me the baron walls of the room but not the mirror, until I stubbed my toe into its wall. All along, the only monster in the room was the one shown in the mirror, it was me.
I sat in the darkness, under the mirror with flashlight off and cried. Then, I laughed, and then finally, I accepted it. The acceptance was the key; the room became dimly lit with my flashlight. I stood up to face the mirror, watching the cracks deepen and then shatter. Behind the glass was the light switch. I flicked it on, saw the walls in more detail and the floor as solid and stained wood. I turned off the lights and walked out.
Looking back, I was horrified, terrified, and scared stiff. I re-entered the room multiple time, specifically when I needed to recollect myself. The darkness at the end of the tunnel now became my safe haven when the light became too much. It’s still there to this day, but I don’t visit as much anymore, not like I used to. But every now and then, I switch off the light and feel at home with my monsters and myself.
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