WHEN LIGHT SHOWS

When light shows.

Darkness is not a friend

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was only seen by an owl and a vixen; both left the woods as fast as wings and legs could carry them. The woods went silent. All the creatures of the night found shelter and shut down all their hunting, hunger was preferable to what was going to emerge from that cabin. None were alive at the last time it happened, but all were instinctively aware of what could happen this time. Time itself seem to freeze almost as if the moon and stars were trying to avoid being witness to the future.

Dawn came and lit up the fields around the wood, the village slowly came to life, smoke from a couple of chimneys. In the wood no light came, no dawn, no warmth. The candle in the cabin was extinguished and the darkness grew deeper, denser, until it could almost be felt. This darkness was not just the absence of light, it was palpable and appeared to have devoured all sound as well as light. Those creatures that could flee had done so, even the breeze was stilled. Those who could not flee, died. All life was sucked into the cabin, through the broken window and into a void that could not be denied, it consumed all life, all light, all sound. But it was not enough to satisfy the hunger of the cabin creature.

The village dragged itself into activity, water was drawn from the village well. The plough horse was tacked up, the ploughman could not understand why his placid shire was playing up, tossing her head as he slid on the great collar, stamping her feet and continually looking around, her eyes showed the fear she felt but he did not understand the cause, not then, understanding came later, too late. The village dogs were also showing agitation and being cursed into silence. The general opinion was that it must be a great storm coming, this causing the unease in the animals. The rooks in the great elms around the church, all took flight at once, their cawing was so loud everyone stood and looked up into the swirling mass of birds. The churchyard was strangely avoided by the flock, they flew around the village but never near the church and graveyard. The villagers gathered by the gate of the churchyard, the air itself felt as if it was vibrating, a tile slid from the gate porch roof. This had stood for over a hundred years through tempest and gales but in this stillness the tiles started to fall. The church tower suddenly swayed and started to shed its slates and even the stones of the circular wall started to move. The villagers panicked and ran towards the open fields, away from their homes and the falling church, children were gathered up and carried, dogs were let loose, even the great shire was released from her harness. The graves in the churchyard started to drag in the light from the sky above. It could be seen as if darkness was visible. The graves were dark pools with light flowing into each of them, then they joined together forming one great pool of darkness, the morning became the night. Dark flowed from the church into the village consuming anything that had been left alive within it. Despite then fact that it was not yet mid-morning the village was as dark as midnight in a winter. The people screamed their terror and even the sound of their fear was sucked into the darkness; they scattered, some carrying babies.’ Others just propelled by dread. The dogs and even the shire, ran with them. There should have been a great noise as the huge hooves pounded the ground, but no noise escaped the creeping darkness.

Three of the villagers ran for the woods, if they had time to think at all they may have thought the trees offered shelter, but they did not; as these three burst into the woodland they burst, dissolved into dark smoke, which instantly became part of the darkness itself. The cabin door opened and the darkness flowed back in through this door, the candle light flickered on briefly then went dark again. The hunger of the woodland darkness was satisfied but the hunger of the churchyard was not.

The rest of the villagers carried on running but they had left behind the sick and the lame, they had left their pigs in the sties and the chickens in the hen house. As the exhausted people collapsed to the ground the sounds started to be heard again, glancing back, fearful that the dark was still chasing them they realised it had retreated back to the village. A village now completely devoid of life, any form of life. They watched as the dark flowed back to the graves then disappeared. Light returned, the crows went back to their elms, it was not back to normal since what could ever be normal? The ploughman was braver than the rest and he slowly returned to his home. It was empty, even the mice had gone, the spiders and the wood lice were gone, not a trace. He went back to the church to find it was a pile of rubble, bricks and stones, wooden beams, and roof slates, all in a heap.

The people rounded up the dogs and collected what possession could be found, then they all left. They never looked back, and they never spoke about that darkness that came with the dawn. If you venture out to the village now all you will find are ruins, tumbled down cottages, and a neglected graveyard. Just do not stay the night, in case the candle in the cabin, lights up again.