The Dark pt.1 by SliceandDice

SLICEANDDICE'S BLOG

SliceandDice

The Dark pt.1
Tuesday, January 29, 2008

I do not remember the sun.

My life has been lead without it. I have no memories of trees with glistening sun-kissed leaves. No comforting glow to turn to. No rays a precious life. I have not known its warmth, glow, its presence, its light. I have not known of its life.

I don’t remember the sun.

I have no need of it. I have no need for its life, no need for light, so none of it is present or welcome in mine. It does not bathe me in glory, as it dos for others. It shuns away from me. The embrace of it I do not grace. It does not hold me well in the noon hour, or any. For me and I there is no sun.

Darkness is my home. Cool, sweet, kind darkness. Where moonbeams bleach my skin and playful breezes tickle my nose. Where the world is but a whisper of its self and the whispers shake through the trees and hills without resistance. The stories all laid out for those know how can hear. Dew collecting on leaves flowers and eyelids, and mysteries and wonders all stand waiting to be found.

And I have lived here alone.

Oh there have been those who tried to join me, but Darkness is my kingdom, prison, and mine alone. Those who brought me here, and left me here, my mother, my father, pretend to be with me, to join me, but it is all a false mask. In truth they line in Light, and with it the Sun. They pass through, pass by, try, but they can not make their home in Darkness, with me. Not while the Sun still calls them, still loves, still opens its arms and embraces them while shunning me.

I will not lie. I will tell you only the truth. I have craved the Sun in wonderment, for its mystery. But its bite and sting in my youth have driven me away and told me in no uncertain terms of it’s disgusting and hatred. It has told me to stay, stay away. So Darkness, my sweet friend, hold me tight, and I allow it to embrace me in its loving arms, to envelope me completely. And, Oh!, do I give into its sweet kisses when they are offered.

And I have no loneliness for all the happiness I feel. I can not share my world, for none can join me with sacrifice. And without companion ship Darkness becomes my isolation. It has left me alone. No moon blossoms for any but me. Only I speak to owls and foxes and the other beast of the night. And only I can love the sweet beauty that is the Dark. The stillness, the quite and the subtle life.

But, Oh!, have I know loneliness and its pain. It has shattered my heart, pierced my soul, ripped open its holes to disease, and left me broken. I have craved affection, companionship, until my body has screamed in despair. Again and again, until my tears stung my eyes at the darkest hour, only to wiped away by the only one who cares for me, my Dark.

And maybe it was the Dark who called to me in the end.

Where my loneliness and sadness usually laid one night there where friends to fill the void, to join me for once. There where companions to share my home and Kingdom with. To sit and lay with me, to travel by my side through the Dark, to experience it with me, finally I was not alone. And the showed me more, told me more and gave me more than I had ever had before.

What beautiful creatures they were, that would be my lone companions. As small as the mushrooms beneath the aged trees and as tall as the trees themselves they stood. Beautiful all in their own subtle ways. Cloaked only in nature itself; leaves, flowers, fur and moss, Man and woman all, nothing human or modern about them. And I loved them so.

Together my home became full of life and laughter. To the singing of the trees we danced, over hills and creeks we roamed. And never was I to face the cold alone.

The faces always changed. Never did the same come two nights in a row. Never, save for two. Names where never exchanged, for they bore no importance, so their true names I have never known but they where my constant companions and truest friends for that was to come and be. She stood tall and beautiful in gowns of delicate spider web gauze, rose petals and dew. Her hair wove itself in the moonbeams crossing the sky and her eyes dark as death itself twinkled with finest starlight, as though stars themselves made their home there. He was neither short nor tall. Dress always in the think skins of the wolf, his hair flickered with black fire and shocking bright lightening blue eyes danced against his pale skin and seemed to cast the softest glow of a cat. And it was them that came to me often.

And I was happy.

Then I got sick.

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