Flicker of Dawn

It seemed the little town of Misery had been enveloped in its gloom of gray since the dusk of time. Of course, there had always been rumors of a mythical contrast, a dawn in the husky darkness. The stories of the spark always came from the ancient folk, who were deemed by many as too old to differentiate their ups from their downs.

A town girl named Ebony Grimm shared this judgment of the fable spreaders. With pin straight hair so black it stood out in the everlasting darkness, she not only personified the drab shadows with her mood. Ebony never understood the speculations and searching for something she was certain wasn't there. Maybe the depressing reality of life was too much for these dreamers. They needed to believe that there was something more than the cloud of gray that were their lives. Or maybe it was the fear of the myth that sent their frenzying minds aspin. A fear that if they didn't search for the flash in the darkness, that it would find them instead. 

Ebony had noticed something about the people of the glum town. When they first arrived they always reeked of dreadful despair, and worse, a confused hope. Another thing she observed was that many came into the community, but only few moved away. The unhappy city had grown in recent years, and the suffocating cloud of fog enveloping the land thickened with the growing population. Ebony concluded that Misery was like a thick tar, once you got yourself stuck in its muck it was near impossible to get out.

Though most people had moved into the town, Ebony had been born into it. Mr. and Mrs. Grimm had moved there a few years after their marriage, settling in a home that neither had expected to be permanent. Yet here they were, 20 years later with 3 Grimm girls, both parents too frightful to leave they're comfortably safe abode in Misery. They had all been raised in the town, only ever experiencing the fog of gloom. Ebony had lived the longest in the Grimm house with her Grimm parents. Raven was the middle child, though her similarities with Ebony made her a haunting duplicate. Then there was Ashen. Ashen was the youngest, she had lived in the gloom for the shortest time, and was evidently the most hopeful of the Grimm’s. The older sisters viewed her as naive. A speculator of the supposed dawn, Ashen entertained the ancient folk as well as the desperate townspeople. She was the only Grimm who seemed unsettled with where they were, who squirmed with a desperate need for change. Her outlet was that similar to the townspeople. A hopeless hope.

One evening in the Grimm household, supper time was approaching, and Mrs. Grimm sent her oldest to gather her sisters. Ebony found Raven in her usual melancholy state reading by the fire. However, as she searched for Ashen she realized her naive sister was not in the house. She knew she must be reminiscing with one of the ancient folk who lived nearby, and she had a hunch which one. With a huff of miserable frustration, Ebony began the trek to go retrieve her sister. As she stomped outside, a familiar silhouette shuffled to his door across the street.   

Across the way from the Grimm residence lived Mr. Blackley. Mr. Blackley had inherited his abode from his mother and father, however he hadn’t always lived in Misery. After the passing of Mr. and Mrs. Blackley, their son tried his best to handle his parents affairs and still stay out of the town. Despite his efforts, the slow and inevitable process of residing in Misery commenced. Before long he had taken upon him what he considered a burden left by his parents in the town. When asked why he made the move, he claimed that Misery had a way of nagging at your mind, that he couldn’t have stayed away if he wanted to. He had a wife who lived with him for a short time, but she had long ago left him there, and since changed her last name.

Ebony turned away from the retreating man and made her way down the street. She was headed to Mrs. Colley’s house in search of her sister. Mrs. Colley had lived in Misery as long as anyone could remember, and the notorious perfume of wilted flowers always signaled her presence. No one knew how she had arrived in Misery, nor why she was there, but she produced enough stories to wipe away any desire to speculate. She was the lead storyteller of the town, and no matter how far off her words seemed, the townspeople's desperate hope clung to every word. With fables of the dawn, Mrs. Colley thrived off of fueling the mythical beliefs of her listeners. She spoke and reminisced on the days when Misery was a desolate town with few inhabitants. Before all the unhappy residents were forced into the gray haze, before the tar of a town stuck them in its muck, back when the supposed dawn was on the horizon.

Charcoal pebbles crunched under Ebonys soles as she trudged closer to Mrs. Colley’s hut. As she approached, however, something felt different. The household looked the same, with its stone gray bricks and lopsided chimney. The wilted shrubbery in front of the hut still rustled dryly in the wind, the door still groaned with every passing gust. However something felt unusual in the air. It was almost as if the gray fog felt lighter.

She peered into the singular dark window of the hut, spotting the silhouette of what she assumed to be Mrs. Colley and her sister. 

An irritated Ebony started towards the door, but stopped short when she saw it. In the rickety window of the senile woman's home was a flash. A not-so-gray burst of color. It was only a flicker, but it was enough to set off a blazing inferno thumping in Ebony’s heart. For a moment she was able to see her sister in a clear light. For that spark of time Ashen looked lighter, softer, hopeful. Like a phoenix risen from the ashes, reborn and free from the prison of Misery. Her eyes had sparkled with the light, and her hair gleaned with a radiance of renewal. The meek flash seemed to thaw something inside of her, it seemed to banish the dark shadows that kept her locked in the muck of the town. 

Shock, fear and an unfamiliar feeling enveloped Ebony’s very bones. Despite her petrifying stupor, something drove her to reach a shaky hand towards the door handle. She could feel the rapid thump of her heart in her chest, see the tremble of her hands, taste the wind in the dryness of her throat. After a moment of apprehension, her grip tightened and she swung the rickety thing open. 

She was met with the overwhelming aroma of fresh flowers.