Darkness Descended

“I see you’ve brought payment. Good, come in,” spoke the woman adorned with a tattered linen hood that draped over her slender shoulders.  

     I entered her eerie shop, a dark place which looked condemned from the outside. I was nervous. Inside I met an eclectic array of odd ornaments, peculiar crafts, and sculptures of deities among other things that unfolded like a twisted tableau from one of my own nightmares. The scent of spices and oils hung heavily in the air, suffusing the atmosphere with an otherworldly aura. Amidst the shadowy corners, arcane artifacts hinted at sinister powers. 

     “I was told by a man from seas beyond the mountains that I could find a remedy for my ailment here,” I said to the woman in a desperate voice. “I suffer during the days and more during the nights. The darkness crawls inside my head, its feet itching towards my spine. The light of day brings some comfort.” 

     “Ah, please, take a seat,” uttered the woman in a tone laced with a peculiar mix of warmth and mystery. “I believe I possess just the remedy for your affliction.”

     “And what is that?” I asked eagerly as the woman shuffled slowly around the dimly lit shop, smacking my hand away from touching an arcane cross, sifting through books and an array of mysterious objects. She moved with a spectral grace, her fingers grazing over ancient tomes, murmuring words until following a coughing reply. 

“Answers.”

“Answers?”

“Yes, answers,” the woman affirmed, her eyes piercingly glowing from the darkness of the shadows. But you must not fixate solely on physical cures.”

“What then?” I pressed, urgency carrying my words.

The woman handed me a wooden rune. “You will feel the world stir, and in that stirring, you will find your salvation.” 

I snatched the rune from the woman's outstretched hand, its enigmatic image burning like a brand against my palm. Fear was taking hold. I stashed the rune in my pocket and bid the woman thanks. Wind blew gently as I exited the ramshackle home almost to reassure me of the business I had done. Having walked only a few steps, I feared to turn back to look at the dark place. Exhaling, I took a quick glance. I turned to find the shop at the corner gone, lost to the suffocating and darkened city. 

The woman marked the final chapter in a long saga of futile remedies, a last grasp of hope from what I’ve been told to be an encroaching madness.  

...

The affliction began years ago, as a young boy. It started from where trees loomed tall, a deep forest where the pines danced and mingled, encompassing life and mystery. It was there, amidst the tangled undergrowth where my affliction was born. It began innocently enough, leaving home with friends to explore the vine-entwined woods, drawn to the adolescent promise of adventure. But as dusk descended, the forest grew cloaked with dancing shadows, transforming into a natural labyrinth.

Stumbling upon an ancient clearing, night had fallen, and the moon had risen, its gentle glow guiding us, full, beckoning the nighttime howls. Before us stood a cabin, a refuge, a place perfect for rest.  

Curiosity overcoming caution, we ventured inside, floorboards creaking beneath our feet in the stillness of night. I remember that darkness inside the cabin. Something about it was more malevolent than that experienced in one's own nightmares. The moonlight outside became obscured, the darkness of the woods enveloping the cabin with us inside. A true blackness overwhelmed us. At first it beckoned, but then it devoured. I fled the cabin, distraught by the cold grip of the lightless ocean that weighed me down from all directions. I was found the next day, out in the clearing alone, my friends gone. 

...

Far removed from the bustling heart of the city, nestled within the uptown neighborhoods, I find solace in the home given to me through inheritance. Yet, even within its plaster-covered  walls, my sleep remains fraught with disquieting visions that leave me drained when waking. 

Bathed in the morning sunlight that filtered through the window, I struggled to piece together fragments recalled from my dream. It was as if my subconscious weaponized itself, taking the form of a shadowy figure, seated in a chair across from me. He was familiar yet unknown. Only he spoke. I could not. Were these whispers just echoes of my own subconscious bouncing back at me, or had someone breached the sanctity of my slumber?

Under a starry night sky, I contemplate the boundless expanse of darkness that surrounds my home. Without the shy white rays of starlight, I fear what sinister depths lie beyond. In the absence of the moon's gentle glow, fear grips me, its tendrils reaching out to torment me. It taunts me. Shadows dance menacingly at all edges, darkness looming, threatening to extinguish the flame of day and enveloping all in its suffocating embrace. 

These words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a mix of fear and unease. I was adrift in a sea of confusion, like a boat unable to make port with reason. Days turned to nights and I felt myself changing. My once clear thoughts were now clouded by a pervasive darkness like that of crushing ocean depths. Amidst the unease, headaches rose like embers and the rune’s presence offered me renewed hope, but I wasn’t ready to learn of its curing properties. The universe was saying otherwise. The rune continually sat in my pocket, ominous, filling me with both feelings of dread and discovery. When was the time right?

Under the harsh glare of daylight, I found myself adrift in a city awash with gibberings, bustle, the everyday melancholy of existence. The sunlight cast long obscure shadows across streets and buildings. I didn’t venture near. Neon signs hung unlit until night, their purpose moot. Some colors could be soothing.

Aimlessly I trudged, observing everything around me. There was a consistent theme at play. Emblazoned on every surface like a cult logo, advertised as “Hope” and “The Dawn of the New Age”, “The Ring” stood front and center, graffiti-spread like wildfire. I didn’t care much for the social spectacle. As my eyes scrolled through the fliers and paint that riddled the wall, a voice crept through my ears into focus. The man spoke of the sun and the stars. “Convergence, don’t miss it”. 

As the day dragged on, the throbbing in my head intensified, becoming a relentless companion. I retreated home, passing protests, posters, the rambles of Convergence-driven lunatics. I yearned for the respite of sleep. Yet, as I laid in bed, the world outside seemed to warp and shift. My head pounded like a hammer striking an anvil. My hands, clammy. I looked at the rune on my nightstand hoping to relieve the coiled pit in my stomach. It still wasn’t time. Perhaps at dawn I would emerge with breathless light and clarity. 

. . .

The neon-lit city ensnared me, engulfing me in a cacophony of chaos. It was a new day and thousands of people filled the streets with cars bumper to bumper. Hundreds of people on every block corner pushing their way through shadowy alleyways and intersections to make it to the shoreline. “Convergence” was upon us, and with the overwhelming number of protesters and cultists alike surrounding government buildings, rioting, attempting to ignite reform, it was possible.

Waterside, I stared out across the sea with thousands of others. High above the moon approached the sun. I was deeply afraid. I feared the impending celestial message, the impending darkness. My head throbbed, my heart was racing, and in my pocket I held tightly onto the rune. 

As the sunlight began to dim, I shifted my gaze to the city behind me. Beneath the towering megastructures of the city, street lights flickered on. Neon signs buzzed alight in tandem with LED advertisements. The blaze of color lit up what would be harrowing darkness. The sky slowly darkened in the distance, nearing like a wave. The darkness taunted me, its shadows looming closer.  

My mind churned and my thoughts swirled like a tempest, fear gripping me with an iron fist. I began to shiver, anxiety overwhelming me. With a hand still gripped onto the rune, I pulled it out of my pocket. I stared at the carving as its image stared back. The darkness was nearly here. I feared it more than ever. 

In mere seconds, the moon eclipsed the sun. The two bodies perfectly converged, but with convergence came horrors. Emblazoned in the sky was a burning Ring. A celestial image never-before-seen. The ring stained the sky while everything below was crushed by nightfall. I had no choice but to trust in the answer I was given.

People danced and praised the burning symbol as it hung over the city. To me, the piercing light offered respite, though the weight of darkness was impossible to bear. I stared at the ring, grasping onto the gleam it provided. So focused, lost in its image, entranced by fear, I stared with a longing for release. My gaze remained fixated until the moon no longer blocked the sun. I stared until I no longer could. 

The ebony heavens glittered, and the city returned to its regular state, its complexities fading and forming anew with each passing day. Convergence had come and gone, yet I was not freed of my affliction. I now remain confined to the cold embrace of a wheelchair. That unbroken gaze that kept my last grains of sanity doomed me to perpetual night as my light-starved eyes and mind burned under the blazing rays that followed the ring.