Demons in the Dark

I was young when I permanently lost my innocence. Perhaps around 7 or 8 years of age. The details are not as bad as you may think, nor as harmless.

Betrayals. Loss of trust. Near death. All of those apply.

But I survived. I shuddered, and I cried, and I felt weak...but I survived.

But I lived in fear. Fear of those that would choose to hurt me, literally risk my life, simply for fun. It was amusing to them. Children are psychopaths. They not only don't possess empathy, they literally enjoy harming others. It's amazing to me that our species has survived this long. In my case, well that particular case (there are more), I was pushed into a partially frozen mountain river, full of rushing water, rocks, and no way for me to return to where I had been standing. The shock of the 33 degree water still lingers in my nerves. The 'friend' who had pushed me, was my older brother's friend. My brother stood by and did nothing. His friend yelled across the river at me, where I clung to a cliff face above the rapids, "PLEASE DON'T TELL MY MOM!"

He was more concerned about being "grounded" than about my life. Some 10 years later, when I grew into my full size, we had a discussion about that. For the record, at that point, I was 6'4" and 235 pounds. Fit. Strong. I could curl him.

But prior to that, I spent many years as a shy, withdrawn, scared little boy. Years of my life. I was called "runt". I was called worse. I had been proven a whipping boy. I was scared of loud noises. I was scared of my friends. I was scared of pretty much everything...but especially the dark.

The thing is, you can only be scared for so long. Eventually, you either accept your lot, or you begin to change it. To change you. You begin to question your assumptions. To question who it is you want to be, or what you want to be.

We lived in a very small mountain town, my brother, my mother, and I. So did those "friends". The closest thing even close to a decent restaurant was 60 miles away....and how I hated sitting in the car, driving there, pretending we were a happy family. I was the runt. I was called more names...by both my mother and brother. Eventually, I simply refused to go. I would stay home, I said, and do homework. Or watch TV. Or play my Intellivision. I would find something to eat, and they could go have a good time without the little runt who was apparently worthless.

What I did neglect to mention, however, is that we had two cats. Two very tough, outdoor style mountain cats. Each varying between 16 and 22 pounds. These were *tough* cats. They would disappear for days into the mountains, and come back wounded, bloody, a bit torn, and smiling from ear to ear. Frequently with a new "prize" to show me...and if I was lucky it would be dead before they brought it into the house.

I digress.

The reason I mention the cats, and the fact that my mother and brother would drive 60 miles for mediocre steak, gave me the opportunity I mentioned before, about accepting your lot, or changing it. See, cats are sharp. Aware. Always on alert. Cats *know* what's going on around them. Even when they are asleep. It was said back then that there was no way to sneak up on an active outdoor/mountain cat.

Challenge accepted.

I created a game, called "demon in the dark". Once the family had left on their 3-4 hour journey, I would turn off every light in the house. Every. Single. One. Up in the high mountain valley, just shy of 9000 feet elevation in the San Juan Mountains in Southwest Colorado, when we said "dark", we meant "DARK!". Once the lights were off, the game began.

The game "demon in the dark" only had two rules.

1. You can't stop unless you fail. (once you fail, the cats are really riled up anyway, and pretty annoyed with you)

2. You had to sneak up on a cat, close enough to touch it, without it realizing you were there. If you can startle/surprise the cat, you have to move on to the next one...*without* the other one noticing. (e.g. I once crept up on all fours underneath our downstairs pool table where the older cat was sleeping. I slowly reached out and touched him, and he launched completely vertically so hard, he hit his head on the underside of the slate. I still feel somewhat bad about that, but he was fine) The other cat, being a sociopath like all cats, was still asleep upstairs. I would get to him soon.

What does this have to do with innocence or loss thereof?

I turned my viewpoint around. I decided that if the world was going to be scary, even demonic, I would be the scariest fucking thing in the dark.

Many, many things changed after that realization. And not just for me. I became, and still am, the demon in the dark for many people. Even my friends.

But I still want my innocence back.