When Light turns to Dark

They tell many stories of dark turning into light. There are many tales of people with dark pasts and horrific histories turning into good people thanks to a certain influence. People who were dark and terrible and mean but who are now are kind and caring because they were shown love. As I said, many tell of demons who learned kindness thanks to an angel. 

But what happens when the story doesn’t go as planned? What happens when the light isn’t enough? What happens when the darkness is just too overpowering? 

Most spin the story of Persephone to where it was Hades who forced away her light. And while we know that isn’t true, these events have happened to some. 

But despite what you may think, it is not a story of despair that I am about to tell. The story you will hear of, features death and doom, yes. But it will also have power and control. The showing of a new world with different elements. A new experience. Darkness is not only chaos and evil, but it is also elegance and sophistication. It is strength and mystery. It is endings, yes. But it is also new beginnings. 

~~~

He was beautiful. He was soft and kind and he was everything she was not. She was tall and angry, a force to be reckoned with. He was lanky and delicate, a body unmauled by hard labor. His hair was long, blond, and soft, and it reached down to his hips. Her hair was short and spiky, the color of burnt ashes. She was haunted and pale, and he was the color yellow. Her eyes burned with a thousand unlighted fires, while his eyes were the color of the sky after it rains. 

She was feared in all realms which knew of her, while he was dismissed for his soft looks. While everything she said was immediately taken into consideration (out of fear), he was shoved aside, never taken seriously. Her knuckles were bruised and her face was scarred. His skin was rosy and unbroken. 

Her name inspired fear into mortals and immortals alike, for you could only escape her wrath once you were dead. She never forgot a name or face, and once you got on her bad side, there were few things you could do to get off it. He on the other hand, never held a grudge, no matter how deserving of it you were. 

They were polar opposites, and yet they were destined for one another. She knew of him long before he knew of her, and some afternoons, when it all got to be too much, she would sit in the shadows and watch him, envious of the life he led. Envious of how easily he could go about life. She wanted that. She wanted him. 

And so, bit by bit she revealed herself to him. The first time, she asked him for directions on the street. The second time, she saved him from a gang in an alleyway. By the third time, he was suspicious. 

“Have I met you before?” Was what he had asked. 

“Once or twice,” Was the answer she gave before slipping away in a crowd of people. 

And then, the fourth time, when she was sitting in a booth in a coffee shop, waiting for him to show up like he did every afternoon, he approached her. 

He slid into her booth like they had planned it, and for one of the few times in her life, she was taken by surprise. 

“Are you following me?” He looked directly into her eyes, and just like that, she was enraptured. 

“Yes.” She took a sip of her spiked espresso. 

“Why?” 

“You and your life intrigue me.” She blinked twice. 

He ordered some coffee while she waited patiently. 

“Who are you?” He pushed up the wireframe glasses that rested on his nose. 

“You don’t want to know.” Their eyes connected, and for several beats, they were silent, only staring into each other’s eyes. 

They began to meet daily after that. They never arranged times or places, she would just find him. And then they would talk. They eventually got to know each other. 

He learned that the girl in front of him was no mere mortal, but he had already guessed that anyways. He learned that she had only known darkness in her long life, and while she never said it, he knew there was pain hidden deep within her. For, some days, she would just come and sulk. She would stay silent, and, as the months passed and he got bolder, he would just hold her, until she fell asleep. 

And she learned that deep within this soft boy, there was repressed anger, anger at being held down by a world that didn’t believe in him. His life was full of injustice, and there was a part of him, deep down, that thirsted for revenge. 

And there was a part of her that wished for kindness and love. And in both of them, there was wonder at finding a person who they envied. He wished for her courage and for her strength. He wished to be able to stop letting people walk over him. She wished to not see everyone in such a horrible light, and she wished to uncorrupt some of her soul. 

And one night, she was at his house, and it was one of her dark days. And then, to his utter surprise, she began to cry. 

“What’s wrong?” He held out a hand, an offering. 

And she shoved it away. “Leave me alone. I’m fine.” She furiously swiped at her eyes, hating herself for letting him see her cry. 

“You don’t have to do this alone. Crying isn’t a weakness.” He scooted closer, being careful not to touch her. 

“Yes, it is.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. 

“Even if it is, do you think I care?” His arm went around her shoulders gently, carefully, cautiously. 

And she let him pull her onto his lap, and she let him hold her as she cried. And he did his best to convey his feelings through his actions. 

And as he held her, he felt a wave of deep, old anger in him surfacing. An anger that was dangerous, an anger that had his blood boiling, an anger that made him forget his shortcomings. An anger that made him poisonous. Anger that said he was coming, he was coming for anyone who had ever hurt her, and he was going to make them pay. 

~~~

One day she brought him to the Underworld, on his request. She showed him her home, and everyone they ran into balked at the sight of a smaller, pale man at the side of one of the most feared immortals in the Underworld. 

And when they went into the garden, he saw the citrus tree that stood next to the stone fountain that held only black water. 

“Can I have an orange?” He walked over to the tree. 

“You’ll be confined here.” She shook her head as she strode over to him. 

“I don’t care, as long as I’m here with you.” 

“Consider this carefully.” She walked over to him and grabbed both his hands in hers. 

And he paused and thought. He thought of what he would have to leave behind in the mortal world. He thought of his apartment, with its leaky ceilings and poor air conditioning. Of his job, with his boss’s neverending list of demands. What was he even living for at this point? The only happiness he had was the opportunities he created for himself. And her. She was his happiness. 

What was the point in living without her? 

And so he reached up and plucked the nearest orange. He bit down, the juice running down his chin, her watching his every moment. And he stood there, the half-eaten orange in his hand, and he looked up at her. 

“Did it work?” He almost looked apprehensive. 

“Of course.” 

And so he became like her, and it wasn’t a bad thing. She taught him how to live, and for that, he owed her everything.