Cries in the dark.

My ‘ma has left me by the pile of logs. She said she wouldn’t be back — and at the time I only took it as a joke. She warned me not to leave, to keep the only light source we had burning. I had asked her many times what she’d do in the dark.

“That’s grown folk’s business,” She said with her gruff voice. There was the same look of penitence on her face, one she’d carried for years on end. 

I asked again and again, receiving the same demeaning answer. By the time she trudged through the snow, I was already agitated. I just… can’t understand. Why leave me? Why not give me any reason?

Taking deep breaths, I felt my agitation subside as the fire flickered. It danced as if doing the Xhosa, and the familiar images made me laugh. Bright and dark oranges mixed together to create an intimidating warmth and leaving the snow around it melted. A beautiful contrast to the stygian surroundings that plague the world. 

In only a moment's time, I can see the small spits of fire slowly dying. As if on autopilot, I grab the nearest log and chuck it into the flames. It roars at me, its mouth opening wide – for a moment I fear being swallowed whole. Almost as quickly as it revived it went back into the harmless form it harbored. 

This repeats a few times; the logs eventually run out and I’m left with no other options. 

There’s a wailing in the distance. A warning? A call for help? It’s difficult to make out the quiet sound. Either way, I do my best to ignore it. I’ve encountered dark before and nothing good inhabits it. 

Bright oranges take no time to die down again. I look around, standing up from the numbing cold. No logs. There’s only one option left for me. Slowly, I take off the scarf gifted by my late father. Its fluffy feeling causes tears to well up in my eyes. Looking away, I chuck it into the demanding blaze, a stray cry escaping my lips. 

As if mimicking me, I hear another cry in the distance. It’s closer. An obvious cry for help, soft whimpers and moans as they trudge closer to my flame. 

I can’t leave.

Can I?

‘Ma would reprimand me if she comes back — but I don’t know if she ever will.

In a weak voice, I finally call out to the shadows. “Who’s there?”

A groan follows, followed by another slow step.

“Hello? Answer me, or don’t come any closer!” I call out, getting closer to desperation.

Silence. 

All sounds stop. Not only in the distance, but near me as well. I look around as the space around me is engulfed in nothing but blackness. The fire… I let it die. My heart pounds in my ears and I can barely feel the way my knees buckle to land me on the ground. 

Suddenly, a faint sound finally reappears. A familiar cry, and an unfamiliar dragging of feet. Not one, but two pairs of feet, as if it’s crawling. Paws? I don’t know anymore. It’s slow, painstakingly slow, and I can hear its heavy breathing as the creature drags near. There’s a subtle ‘swish... swish’ as it moves through the darkness, as if whatever it is, is coming directly for me.

It groans and wails. My mind reels and all I can think about is how it sounds almost exactly like my ‘Ma. But it can’t be. She doesn’t demean herself to crawl. She doesn’t cry nor groan — doesn’t even make a sound when she walks. So, why? Why does it sound like her voice echoing in the small sobs of the creature, begging for help that I’m incapable of giving? 

A small light flickers once again. 

It’s in front of me, its huge eyes glowing a sickly green and its teeth gnashing. I stare into the creature’s eyes as if being hypnotized. Images of my mother and father play in my head, when the world was once light. When we had pizza on Fridays and Alfredo on my birthday; before my mother lost my baby brother to a miscarriage and my father decided he couldn’t handle it. I remember her crying and sobbing for him to stay, I remember him pushing her off of him and leaving without taking a look at his little girl one more time. 

I remember ‘Ma blaming me for all of it as she drank her sorrows away and punched her anger out with things I couldn’t handle. I remember her sitting me down on the couch a few hours ago, saying she’d never be back.

She lied.

‘Ma is back now, screaming at me with teeth that should belong to a wolf. Her eyes, a usually calming sage, seem to drip with hatred as she screams at her only child. She swishes the half-empty bottle in her hands, crying and imprinting words into my brain.

“I told you to leave the light on, you dumb kid!” ‘Ma screams.

“I…” It really wasn’t my fault.

“I’m sorry.”

I wonder what I did so wrong in my past life to end up here. Truly, the lights only went off because she forgot to pay the bill. Truly, I only opened the door because I thought she’d be happy to see me. Truly, I… I should’ve done what I could to keep her away.

I look down at my black hands, small and calloused. I run them over my princess dress that I’ve used as a means of reality. The coils of my hair are matted and improper, sitting on my head like a reminder of how little I mean to those who should’ve cared for me. My skin is ashed and my lips are dry.

I look up at my mother, crying as she glares at me. Angrily, she blows out the small candle she’d lit only seconds before, cursing me as she walks into her master bedroom. I’m left alone in the dark living room, only being able to pray that she never leaves her room. I can only pray she leaves silently in the morning.

But I failed to keep the light on.

Maybe I deserve this darkness.

But I will pray that I escape it.