The Darkness

The darkness, it follows us everywhere. Even in the very brightest of places, the darkness hides in the corners of existence. Within our hearts, the darkness conceals itself within thoughts and desires. Within our lives, it hides within actions.

“I’m going to the store. Do you want anything specific or should I just get the regular stuff,” Joseph’s wife shouted through the long halls of their two story townhouse. The property was a gift from her father and, being a successful psychologist himself, he was able to afford the taxes on the land, and all of his and his wife’s toys. He was an indigent care psychologist as his family had always been religious so he felt he needed to be somewhat of a giving man. He did not, however, turn away his wealthier clients. In fact, he prioritized them over his indigent care patients. This, however, was neither here nor there, and he did not see it as being rude, or inconsiderate. He did, after all, still give the poor psychological care, but he just didn’t do it at their leisure.

“No, babe, just get the regular stuff. If we need anything else during the week we can go get it,” said Joseph with a sort of careless attitude. He really didn’t care what his wife got at the store. She would get more than they needed anyway, so telling her the regular stuff would just give her more room for random crap. He didn’t mind the randomness of unneeded things; he just didn’t necessarily care if she got them.

His wife left, leaving the garage door open so that he didn’t have to open it himself. He left immediately after his wife, as was his custom. His job required him to be on time or, even better, early. Preparation was key, as was calming himself before his patients arrived. He started the day with a few indigent care patients, and proceeding later into the afternoon, his wealthier patients began to show up.

Today was not all that different from any other day, except that when he arrived at the office, there was no one there. He thought that was odd, but it was not unlike his secretary to call in to work sick. She was one of the few people who stayed with him after the false abuse accusations, and so he gave her a little leeway when it came to sick days. He thought it a more than fair trade, and so did she, as she always seemed to be battling one illness or another.

He walked into his office and flicked on the main lights. Everything seemed fine to him and so he just kept on walking over to his desk. He reached his large wingback desk chair, and after setting his briefcase on the floor, he sat down. It was then that he realized he was not alone.

In the corner, dangling from the awkwardly placed ceiling fan, was his secretary. Her neck snapped into an unnatural position, her eyes a dull grey from loss of life. She seemed to be staring at his very soul, staring right through him, seeing every sin he had ever committed and every one he will most likely commit in the future.

His heart did a series of jumps, tucks and rolls, as his mind registered what he was seeing. What felt like an age passed before he was able to move his hand towards the telephone. His trembling finger moved like a ghost was guiding it as it pressed out 9-1-1 on the keypad. A voice on the other end said, “Hello, 9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

Joseph’s voice caught in his throat. He was rendered speechless by the voice on the other end. It sounded strange for some reason, as if it wasn’t truly there. He disconnected the call, and redialed. A voice came on over the phone and said, “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

Again, his voice began to rise into his throat, but it never went past that. Again, he was rendered completely speechless, as if an unseen force had hold of his voice, keeping it in place. He disconnected the line once more and put the phone back on the hook. He looked over towards the corner where his secretary’s body was hanging, only to find that the body was no longer hanging there. It had disappeared from the fan completely, as if it were never there.

His mind became clouded, like he had stepped into a shallow creek filled with mud. He searched for clarity, only to find a deeper, darker cloud. Consciousness began to spiral away, his mind becoming enveloped in darkness. He swung his arms around in front of him, searching for anything to hold on to, but all he found was more darkness. There was nothing for him to see, only the dark.

He awoke on the floor of his office, with his jacket under his head like a pillow. He had no memory of what happened except for the darkness, and the dull grey eyes, the dull, piercing grey eyes. His mind still a cloudy mess, he sat upright to gain a better view of his surroundings.

His office was just as neat as when he had come in, except the clock was stopped. The hands were no longer moving, and the time was stopped at 7:23. He looked at his watch, and then his phone, and although he knew it was later than that, the clocks were stopped at 7:23. He got up from his position on the floor, and without much difficulty, walked over to his desk chair, and sat down. The soft leather of the designer chair made him feel a little more at ease, as if he was being surrounded by peace. Though he did not know why, the chair had always been a comfort to him, even when there was nothing in the world that could make him happy, not even his wife.

He began to contemplate why everything was the way it was. He wondered why he had seen an image of his secretary hanging from the fan, dead and gone. He wondered why the voice on the phone had made his throat catch, and why he had passed out for no apparent reason. His thoughts were still disconnected, and rambling, but he felt better. Thinking was his pastime, his favorite sport, and his sanctuary. He had always found comfort in his thoughts, and he did even now.

His heart jumped at the sound of the phone ringing. In his fortress of thought, he had all but forgotten the office surrounding him. He reached for the phone, picked it up off the hook, and slowly returned it to his ear. His throat trembled and his heart began beating faster and faster, like the pistons of a racing motor. He searched for words to say, and finally, after a minute of silence, he said with a squeak, “Hello.”

The voice on the other end said, “Boss, am I glad to hear your voice. I had heard that a psychologist had passed out in his office downtown, and all I could think was that it was you.”

Gina, his always ill secretary, had called. Joseph was relieved at the fact that it was not some random person calling, or one of his patients. He replied, “Yeah, I heard that to. I don’t quite know who it was yet, but I’ll find out.”

Gina said, “Ok, boss. Just making sure it wasn’t you. I’m at the doctor’s office right now, getting a check-up. I won’t be in today, but I will be tomorrow.”

Joseph told her it was alright, and hung up. For some reason he felt as if he had heard her voice today already, whatever. He would take some Advil, and sit quietly for a while. Try to get a hold on what had happened a few hours ago. He was about to swallow the pills, when the phone rang again.

Joseph marched over to his desk, picked up the phone, and said, “Gina, I told you that was fine. Go home and re...”, but he was cut short by the voice on the other end.

“Hello, 9-1-1, what is your emergency?” said the voice on the other end. This time, however, Joseph knew where he had heard that voice before. The voice was Gina’s voice, but not the Gina that he knew. This voice was not alive in anyway. It had a drawn out echo to it, a rolling sound, like the wind in a canyon. And it was cold. Not the attitude kind of cold, but a dead decaying cold. Like the eyes. Yes, a sound to match the eyes.

Joseph’s eyes grew wide with fear, as the phone fell from his hand. He had looked up from the phone when he had heard the voice, and what he saw startled him. Standing there, no floating there, in front of him was the chilled body of his secretary. The dull grey eyes, the pursed, dry lips, and cold, colorless skin, it was all there.

He backed up towards the wall, but he didn’t get far. The bookshelf behind him had blocked his path to the wall. His heart began beating, faster and faster, like the drumming of the feet of a racehorse. His mind began to cloud again, his thoughts being locked away from himself. He tried to move to the side, to get around his desk and away from the thing in front of him, but he could not. His feet were frozen solid. He could not move his feet or legs; even his arms were placed in a state of rigor.

He reached deep within himself for a scream, only to find that there was nothing there to let out. The wind had left him, as if he had fallen from a great height. His breathing became troubled and heavy, as he fought the fear welling up within him.

The thing flew closer, inch by inch, towards him. It reached the edge of the desk, and in a cold, distant voice whispered, “We feel your fear, we smell your sweat, we see your sin. It belongs to us, it feeds us, and it makes us. We do not know rest, or pain, or love, and we never will. You have no way out. This is our realm, our haven, our sanctuary. Do as you will, but we come for you, we come for you; we come for you!”

The voice was not alone. As it grew in words, it grew in number. The voice grew to thousands of individual voices, all saying the same thing, echoing each other in a song of chills. Joseph trembled, his whole body shuddering with the chill of fear. He felt the strength return to his limbs, and with all his might, ran for the office exit. The door grew farther away, and the faster he ran, the less he felt he could reach it.

When his hand finally touched the doorknob, hope flooded his soul. His hand twisted the knob clockwise, and he pulled the door ajar. Hoping there was nothing on the other side, the door came all the way open and his hope receded into nothing. Where there used to be a small welcome room housing his secretary’s desk, and all his patient files, there was nothing. No, there was something coming. A form, black and disfigured, taking stride after stride, moved closer and closer towards the door. It froze Joseph in place, and fear again took hold of him.

He could not close the door. He felt empty and cold. He knew this was it, the end. He felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, except for the black form. His hand began to retract towards his body, pulling the door with it. It was the thing, the floating body of his secretary, pulling him back towards the office. The voices said, “No, you cannot leave. Try as you might, but you will not leave here. You will feel the pain, the suffering, the anguish that we feel. You are no longer a part of the world you once knew. This will be your new home.”

The door closed and Joseph heard the click of a lock, trapping him there. He began to lose consciousness once again, but this time he fought. He fought to stay awake, to stay alive, to feel the hope once again, but though he tried, he lost himself to the darkness that so easily came. His thoughts swirled around him, weighing him down and pulling him into the nothing that so eagerly awaited him.

He awoke some time later, his head against the door, and his feet bare of shoes. His jacket was also gone from where he had left it on the floor, and his backpack was nowhere to be seen. He pushed himself up off the floor, and dizziness hit him like a wave. He stopped moving, and waited for the dizziness to pass.

The dizziness finally subsided, and he went over to his desk chair to sit down. As he leaned back into his chair, he looked over at the clock on the wall. He didn’t know what he expected to see, but it made no difference. The clock had not changed at all. The hands were still in the same place they were when he gone under. The clock said 7:23, as did his phone, and watch.

He sighed, and began to think once again. Why was this happening? What was happening? If he had no idea what was happening, how could he know why? What was the black form in the doorway, and why did the floating thing not want it to reach him? These questions were surrounded by even more smaller questions, and nothing that came to him could be answered. He knew what he had to do; he had to open the door, but how? The door was locked, he had heard the click, and that thing didn’t want him to open it. On the other hand, that thing didn’t touch the door either. It pulled on him, to close the door. If he could open the door then sit in his desk and wait, he might be able to see the black form.

He got up and walked over to the door. He grasped the handle and tried to twist it, but sure enough, it was locked. He stepped back and looked at it carefully. He might be able to knock the hinges out, and pull it open from that side. Yes, that would work. He went to his desk and grabbed a thin, pen and a small book from his bookshelf. He walked back over to the door, and began working on the hinge pins.

One by one, he hammered away at the hinges, and one by one they began to pop out of place. When he had finished, he took off his tie, and retrieved his spare ties from his desk. He tied them all to the center hinge, and carefully pulled the door ajar. When the door was a quarter of the way open, he sat down at his desk, and pulled it the rest of the way open. He again saw the black form striding towards him from the darkness.

A chill ran down his spine, and fear again took hold of him, but this time it was different. It was not a fear of the form, but a fear of what the form might mean. He could not explain why he felt that way, as he did not feel that way when trying to open the door. He could not, however, turn back now, as he was again frozen in place.

The form drew closer and closer and his heart becoming ecstatic with every stride it took. The thing, the floating body, appeared out of nowhere, just like it did before, but it began yelling instead of whispering.

“You, what have you done! We will not forgive this transgression upon our realm, our haven, our sanctuary! You will pay dearly! Close the door, close it! Now!” the thing screamed with its thousands of voices, but it was too late. Joseph became immersed in the form moving towards him. Unable to move, he was captivated by the way it moved how it didn’t move but it did. The sound of the voices brought him almost to the surface of his trance and he released the tie. At this time everything went black around him, the floating body was gone, and instead of a dark doorway, he saw something entirely new.

What he saw was new, yes, but it frightened him more than anything. He saw lights, faces with blue masks and hairnets, and when he turned his face, he saw, through a long window, his wife. She was crying waterfalls, and then, there next to her, appeared the thing.

No, not the thing, this was his real secretary, pale and sickly, but not the thing. She was speaking to his wife, as if consoling her, but why? It was then Joseph realized what he was seeing. It was not one big picture, but many different ones. To the right he saw his death. He had been in a head on collision on the way to work. He saw the paramedics working to resuscitate him, with no luck. Then at the left, he saw his wife being told that he was dead, and his secretary comforting her, her boss’s wife. And, in the center, he saw the doctors, taking his organs, as he was an organ donor.

He saw the heart, then the kidneys, the lungs, then liver. One by one the organs were taken away. He tried to scream, to tell them to stop, to tell them he was here, but nothing worked. They did not hear him, nor acknowledge the fact that he said anything at all. He cried for them to stop, but he knew it was useless. He knew that he was dead.

The floating body that was his secretary appeared in a shower of grey mist next to where he stood. Slowly, the body began to change into something new entirely. The neck fixed position, the skin was flooded with a bluish tint, and the eyes became a flaming orange. He looked on in awe and horror as the transformation happened like it was a normal occurrence.

In a low growling rumble, the new voice said, “I am what you call evil. I feel the pain that you cause, the suffering others feel because of you, and the fear of your being. It is clear to you now, why I have come for you. You say you are pious, and yet you act the opposite. It does not suit you to truly do good, only that you feel good in the end. I am the darkness, and this is why I have come for you.”

The form slowly creased its thin lips that, by now, had become a decaying green. His teeth were black with rot, and his hair was red dreadlocks, red like thick dried blood. It was not the sound of his voice that was horrid; it was the smell of his breath. It had the stench of death and mutilation, the scent of blood and sweat and tears. The scent was pain and suffering, as it should be.

The new evil, as Joseph was apt to thinking it as, reached down with dirty, bluish hands. His fingers, which felt like cold, dry claws made of rough leather, clenched around Joseph’s throat, and lifted him off the ground to meet him face to face. The new evil was now nine feet tall, bigger than any man in past or present. The sweat from this new form slid down its arm and found its way onto Joseph’s face and into his mouth. It tasted of stale bread, and rotten meat, and made Joseph gag at the thought of what it meant.

The new evil took from his pocket a small vial, with a shiny, silver liquid. He popped the lid off and forced the liquid down Joseph’s already clogged throat. The liquid tasted of rusty metal and rotten apples, and was difficult to keep down, but somehow, he did. The form said in a slow, maniacal grumble, “Glad to see you’re with me on this. You have no future, except for here, in the darkness.”

At that moment a dome shaped lid, like the kind to cover a cake, appeared on a large ivory pillar. The form and his case began to grow massive in size, or so Joseph thought. He realized was actually shrinking, probably the liquid made it happen, and that the form meant to place him in the glass prison.

The new evil said with a haughty smirk, “Hah, would you look at that. This will be your final prison, your final resting place. Nothing can save you from the pain, fear, and suffering others have felt because of you.”

The form placed Joseph in the prison of glass, and immediately Joseph felt better; he felt hope once again, but then it all changed. The light that was radiating from the dome began to dim then it turned a dark, brick red. The air became hot, like an oven, and the air became dry like the desert. He felt sharp pains shoot through his body from every direction. His hope was gone, his joy was gone, replaced by pain and fear, just as the form had said.

The pain went on forever, never stopping, never slowing. He felt it all the time, every day of every year. He could not escape, only endure. Finally the pain was more than he could bear. He let out a bloodcurdling scream, like something from an evil demon banshee, high pitched and piercing, like metal on metal. His eyes bulged from his sockets, his blood ran cold from his own scream, and then the light returned. The hot warmth became cool once again, the hope returned. The light went from red to a bright gold, and then the form appeared.

“Now, we start again. We go from the beginning, and all pain will return. You will feel the darkness cloud your mind, the burning sensation upon your skin, and the bone-shattering pain of a thousand needles injecting you with fire. It will get worse and worse, and as you break more often, your sanity will become lost as well. You are mine, and nothing can change that.”

Joseph’s mind became clouded with pain as the fire returned and the pain of needles came. He dropped to the floor and screamed, his blood chilling at the touch of the sound waves. Chills ran down his spine, and the burning sensation of fire ran up. He collapsed onto his side in pain, the fear of death overcoming his body and his consciousness leaving him. He felt all the pain, even though he was as still as a man unconscious.

It was all as unbearable as the first time, with an added layer of pain. He felt sick, like he had the flu and cancer radiation sickness together. He ached and burned, and the darkness came and went in his mind. He was lost within the suffering, lost within the hopelessness of his situation. He had no way out, he had no way to relieve the pain, the suffering. The joy was gone, the hope was gone, and the end of happiness was there.

The pain would come and go, the suffering filled his heart. The darkness clouded his mind to sanity, and he had no way out of his forced life in hell.

The darkness, it follows us everywhere. Even in the very brightest of places, the darkness hides in the corners of existence. Within our hearts, the darkness conceals itself within thoughts and desires. Within our lives, it hides within actions. As was the case with Joseph Kines, a man who thought himself pious, and true, a man who turned out cruel. Lost within himself he died in a freak accident, and paid for his sin with the eternal suffering of those he turned away, and those he did not help, even though he could. We would do well to learn that there is no escape from darkness.