Darkness Is

The darkness is overwhelming, you can’t see a thing, the chill seeps in and you cower, crossing your arms over your chest you rub hard, but the chill continues to invade every pore. You wait, but no light appears, the darkness fades slightly but you can’t remember how you got here. Wait is that a voice? You listen, in total silence, then a soft purr, a cat there must be a cat close by, there are no other sounds, you wait, the sound fades. Maybe it wasn’t a cat.

You reach out tentatively around you, turning slowly, there is emptiness around you. Now your mind begins to race, and you can hear the roar in your ears, the pounding in your chest, like a boiler ready to explode. A quiet scream leaves your lips, afraid to step forward, not knowing if there is a wall or a cliff. So many images pass through your mind you try to visualize them but they leave as quickly as they come.

Is anyone coming? How did you get here? Your mind says speak but your voice won’t respond. A whisper “Is anyone there?” Was that your voice? Did you finally speak? Slowly you sink to the floor, it is cold, like marble, smooth and slick. It feels wet, so you test it, rubbing your fingers together, but you feel nothing. Sitting now, you hug your knees, again the thoughts bombard your mind, How did I get here? Where am I? Why the darkness? Am I alone? Am I dead? No, dead is Heaven and light, and hell is . . . what is hell? A lake of fire, burning endlessly? There is no fire. Wait, my Bible said eternal separation is outer darkness, weeping and gnashing of teeth, or the lake of fire and eternal torment for the wicked.

There is only silence, there is no light, there are no sounds. A coma? Could one be lost in their own mind? You run more scenarios through your mind. People say a coma is like sleeping, but sleeping is like you slip away and immediately wake up, there is no in-between, is there? There is no pain, no sound, only cold, why cold?

You cannot remember anything just before you were here, why? Short term memories haven’t had time to process. Was there an accident? Were you sick? This could drive someone insane. You could have been drugged, it might explain, but there are no feelings, no high, no pain.

After some time of just sitting trying to reason you decide to move, slowly, feeling the floor in front of you making sure there is no edge to fall over and no wall to run into. Crawling slowly feeling your way asking the God of the universe to guide you, asking for healing, asking for help.

The floor continues to be open, cold, slick, maybe water but you are not brave enough to taste it. You move slowly forward, the inky blackness hangs on, like a heavy blanket, it is hard to breathe, you wonder if you are really dying, slowly. More questions, no answers, you continue to crawl forward, the darkness becomes grayer, the floor is still like ice, a soft pulse somewhere ahead. You decide you must not give up, muscles are tight, tired, beginning to ache, but the darkness is slightly lighter, the floor less wet. Then you notice a slight warmth on the floor, so you rest. Not giving up, not lying down, just resting your forehead onto the smooth marble.

For some unexplained reason you cannot lay down, lying down would be giving in, giving up. Setting your mind with one objective you slide one hand forward, then another, then one knee, then the other. Progress, you decide you cannot rest, the darkness may chase you. Forward is where you need to be so you struggle with arms like lead and legs that are stiff. You call out to family members one by one, whispering names held deep in your heart and all the time asking God for strength.

You don’t know how long you have been crawling, but movement means life, and the dark is lighter, fading to grey, can you go on? You ask yourself, with arms of lead and legs stuck in concreate, how much longer? But the floor is no longer wet, and there is more warmth. You hesitate but then fear grips you, can I rest? Will I lose ground? Will I ever find the light? Will I ever feel the warmth again? These questions you ask yourself.

Progress is slower, your hands move mere inches, but you cannot stop, to stop is to admit defeat. Your focus is only on the warmth, the fading darkness. Then you see it, a sliver of light, like under a door. You ask with tears that finally come, “Is that the way out?” Still not knowing where you are, you struggle towards that hope, that sliver of light.

With trembling fingers, you feel around the edges of the light, it is soft, not like a door, not like the floor. You test the edges, slightly concave, soft as the skin on your face. There are no sides to grasp, your fingers are stiff, but warmth seeps through the light. On your knees, you slide both hands under the edges and lift, there is a lightness and then a separation, one on each you lift higher, the light is brighter and you hesitate.

Suddenly you hear voices, muffled at first, hands touching your face and hands, laughter and praise, a buzzer, the soft sound of a machine, it wasn’t a cat, it was a monitor. Another voice, bright light shining in your eyes. You try to speak but there are no words. Then a face you remember comes into view. Lips you kissed, eyes that stared into yours and promised forever, passion, love, yes, the one who love you, the one who chose you. You remember his name, but still no words will come. You realize there are tubes in your throat, you cannot speak. You blink away the tears.

Voices become clearer, the one you love whispers, ‘I love you Claire, it’s been so long.’ You frown and then blink. You remember his face, his kisses, his love . . . but who is Claire?