The sun sets over Lake Washington, providing residents from the city of Seattle with an awe-inspiring view. It's a Saturday night like any other, except for the graduates of the class of 2011. For this special group of Garfield High alumni, tonight marks their 10-year reunion. A much-anticipated event for all involved, except, perhaps, a small group of misfits who credit their survival solely upon each other. Many discussions have been had by the still close-knit group in recent days, as they try to decide how best to celebrate the occasion. There is one vote to skip it altogether, two want to have a reunion of their own, far away from the other graduates and the stale, old gymnasium. But they are eventually swayed by the fourth, who wants to brave the celebration in the same way they made it through school: together. That is until a major equipment failure occurs at a substation of Puget Sound Energy and wipes out power to the entire city, cloaking Seattle in darkness and changing everyone's plans.
The lights go dark just as Patrick is closing up the cash register for the day. He slams the drawer twice in succession only for it to jut open again each time, taunting him. He knows he can't leave the store with the register sitting open. To do so would serve as an invitation for yet another lecture from his father and remind him why he didn't want to work at the store anymore; why he never wanted to work there in the first place.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he reaches under the counter for a flashlight. He uses it to light his way to the front door, where he pops his head out and glances around the busy street. The businesses and street lamps are dark, the only source of light comes from the headlights of passing cars and the small beam of Patrick's flashlight.
Ducking back inside the store, Patrick tries his wife's cell but is sent straight to voicemail. She can never remember to charge it. He imagines her at home with their two young boys in the dark. He figures he should probably forget the register and head home to help, but then remembers the reunion. He'd completely forgotten it in the power outage. His friend, Matt, thinks it will be freeing to head back into the lion's den together, but Patrick would rather do just about anything else.
No matter how hard he tries, Patrick cannot understand why Matt would want to spend time with a bunch of people who'd tormented them for four years straight. He can't comprehend how he got the others to agree to the idea either; especially Gracie, after that cruel prank at senior prom. Whenever Patrick thought of the reunion it made him ill. What was he even going to say to them? Hey all! It's me, Fatty Patty. Yes- I thinned out, got contacts, and my skin cleared up but it's me. What have I been up to? Well, I'm swimming in debt for a degree I'll never use because I'm stuck working at a job I hate, thanks for asking. And you? Patrick's anger fizzles as he flips through the contacts on his phone and comes to Tessa's name. He quickly taps the screen and raises the phone to his ear.
“Hello, Patrick,” he hears a small voice answer.
“Hey Tessa, how's the hotel? Dark?” He asks. She grins in annoyance.
“Oh yes, it's dark as hell in here. Thankfully I brought my candles. Otherwise, it'd have eaten me up by now.” She replies in a dry, humorless tone. Patrick holds in a chuckle, it seems her flair for the dramatic has grown even stronger since her work has gained a following.
“We've lost power at the store as well. The whole city must be out. Have you talked to Matt or Gracie tonight?” he asks.
“No,” she murmurs in reply, “but I'll give Matt a call...” in a minute, she thinks to herself. I've got to get myself together first. Tessa says goodbye to Patrick and then tosses her cell phone on the bed. Clutching a black tourmaline crystal pendulum in her hand, she closes her eyes and pictures a circle of protective light around herself.
Tessa doesn't like the dark. To her, it is more than an absence of light, it is a living breathing thing; the epitome of fear and a menacing unknown. She sits cross-legged in the center of four pillar candles set on the floor. A dozen more candles are spread out across the hotel room, offering a soft and ominous light. Despite her efforts, she is overcome by the feeling that the darkness is overtaking her. She's fully aware of the fact that, were anyone to stumble upon her like this, they would likely question her sanity but doesn't care in the slightest.
Tessa is and always has been an incredibly sensitive being. Her childhood was riddled with rejection and neglect. She'd learned early on how useful creativity was for navigating her intense emotions and has been using it as both a shield and an outlet since she was a child. Her emotionally charged poetry has touched the lives of many, gaining her low-key fame and providing the attention that she'd been seeking for so long. The caveat is her life is an unpredictable roller coaster that has no end. She cannot provide for herself the stable, secure life that she desperately needs. She never knows what to expect from day to day, or even one moment to the next. In turn, others never know what to expect from her. It is, quite simply, exhausting.
As such, Tessa is much more terrified by the idea of being alone in her darkened hotel room than an over-crowded gymnasium full of her former classmates. The only thing worse would be to have to ask one of her friends to come and save her from herself, so she hopes one of them will figure it out for themselves and head over soon. It's ironic that someone who loves words as much as she does could be physically incapable of saying one of the most important ones: “help”. In the meantime, she barely keeps the panic at bay by setting her thoughts to a poem.
“How is it that the dark shines a light on your fear? What light does the darkness possess except that which it steals from unsuspecting souls” She stops mid-sentence. That's not right. She tries again, “What is it about the dark to bring out one's deepest fears?” She shakes her head and starts again. “Fears live in shadows, the darkness is their master,” she frowns, still unhappy. “Without light, there is no escape. No end. Only darkness, it seeps into my soul and casts out all of the light...” She grunts and folds her arms over her chest as her frustrations rise to match her fear.
It doesn't take long for inspiration to strike, however, and she soon finds herself scrambling for a notepad. She writes feverishly until, on a pause, she glances at her cell and remembers that she was supposed to call Matt. She leans over to retrieve it and calls him.
“Vera! I said I'd call you back when I'm finished,” Matt says brusquely.
“Calm yourself, Matt. It's Tessa.” She responds in monotone.
“Oh,” his voice is full of embarrassment, “hey, Tessa.”
“Should I ask?” She wonders aloud.
“No,” he says quickly. “So, are we still on for the reunion?”
“I think it might be off, unfortunately, on account of this blasted power outage,” Tessa mutters bitterly.
“Oh, I see.” Matt doesn't sound too pleased, either. “Hey, you still don't like the dark, do you, Tessa?” She fumbles for words and it's as good as an answer. He jumps at the chance to put off going home to Vera for a little longer. “Well, if we aren't going to the reunion tonight, how about I stop by your hotel with a bottle of wine? We could throw back a couple of glasses and keep each other company. See how long it takes for the power to come back on.”
“Well, I guess that would be all right,” she says, contentedly, “but before you head out, would you mind calling Gracie? I've spoken with Patrick but I don't think anyone has checked in with her.”
“I'll take care of it,” Matt replies, “See you soon.”
As soon as Matt ends the call, his phone starts to ring. It's Vera. He turns off his phone and shoves it in his pocket. “Give me a break,” he mutters as he storms out of his office and down the hall towards the front door of the office building he shares with two fellow architects. The generator provides enough light to guide him through the halls but it casts a sinister gleam and he inadvertently picks up his pace. He heads out to his car and then exits the parking lot, heading left down the darkened street. The hotel is at least a half of an hour away from work on an ordinary day, the lack of traffic lights will add another fifteen, at least.
As he drives, his thoughts keep wandering back to Vera, but every time they do, he redirects them to another topic. He's determined not to obsess about the relationship tonight, no matter what. So, it takes him by surprise when he brings it up to Tessa not five minutes into their first glass of wine. All it took was for her to ask about his day and he began to unload all of his woes from the two-year relationship. He blathers on and on about how bossy Vera is, how he hates the way she always makes plans without asking him first. What's worse is that she never thinks to ask what kind of takeout he wants or asks how he wants to spend the weekend. He doesn't stop until Tessa grabs his hand to get his attention.
“Have you ever talked to Vera about any of this?” she asks with a scrunched brow.
“She knows what she's doing,” he says stubbornly.
“Oh, Matt,” Tessa sighs, “you're just like my first husband. Okay, let me explain something. We, women, are amazing creatures, truly magnificent beings, but we are not mind readers. You must speak up for yourself. How else will the poor woman know how you feel? If you say nothing, she's going to assume you agree with her and that isn't her fault. It takes two, my friend.” She smiles and pats his arm affectionately. “Go. Call her and tell her how you feel. You can use the bathroom, here, take one of my candles.” He looks around, noticing for the first time that the hotel room is littered with candles and loose sheets of paper.
“Whoa, what's with all this?” He asks, gesturing to the mess, and Tessa's eyes light up.
“I've nearly finished my next book in one night,” she says proudly and starts to gather the pages.
“Congratulations,” he says as he pulls his phone from his pocket and switches it back on. His face returns to its serious disposition as he grabs a candle and heads for the bathroom. “Oh, I forgot to call Gracie,” he calls before closing the bathroom door. She reaches for her phone and tries Gracie's cell but it goes straight to voicemail. Tessa leaves a message and then pours herself another glass of wine.
Gracie checks her cell phone and sees that the battery is dead. She's sitting in her car in the parking lot of Garfield High School. It's dark and abandoned; just like everything else on this side of the bridge. She searches the glove box for her charger and plugs it in, then stares through her windshield. There is a sinking feeling in her stomach as she looks at the school. Even in the dark, this place makes her skin crawl. She steps out to stretch before settling her gaze on the darkened building once more.
Ten years later and she can't think of the place without thinking of that night: senior prom. She still can't believe how stupid she'd been to think Brad really wanted to be her date. He could have anyone he wanted, why would he choose the girl that had to wear a brace every day to correct her scoliosis? The truth hurt enough, but to be brought to the dance and see that...it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
Suddenly, headlights shine in her eyes and steal her attention. She squints and shields her face with her hand as the car pulls up to park a couple of yards away. To her shock, a man gets out of the car who she instantly recognizes. “You've got to be kidding me,” she mutters.
“Hey, you there! What's going on?” She hears the man call out loudly. “Where is everyone? And why is it all dark?” he stumbles towards her. It appears he's been drinking.
“Shut up, Brad! Why are you yelling? You're going to scare her, you idiot!” A woman screams at him through the open window of the passenger door.
“Quiet! No one asked you,” he scoffs, his voice cruel. “Mind your business.”
“The power's out. The reunion's been canceled,” Gracie tells him as she slowly inches towards her car. Her discomfort is hidden behind a fake smile and a cheerful tone. She fumbles for the door handle as Brad continues to move towards her, swaying with each step. When the door opens, she quickly positions herself between it and her car. She offers Brad a quick “sorry” before ducking inside and turning the ignition. She waves feebly as she drives past him and out of the parking lot.
Her tension is broken by peals of laughter as she pulls out into the street. How the mighty have fallen! The boy who took her to prom only to ditch her for his real date in front of everyone has turned out to be a drunken loser! It seems that the darkest moment of her life wasn't so dark after all. She'd dodged a bullet; a crude, beer-bellied, greasy bullet. How's that for perspective? She can't wait to tell her friends about this new revelation.
As Gracie's car disappears down the street, Patrick pulls up and parks on the side of the road. Relief finally comes when he sees that the building is dark. But then, as he drives home, he's surprised to find that the feeling is short-lived. It occurs to him that it wasn't his classmates that had him bothered, it was his father. He's terrified to hurt him, but Patrick simply can't be a part of the family business any longer. As he pulls into his driveway, he finally decides to give his father his two-week notice and search for his dream job. He walks into the house with a pep in his step, feeling lighter than he has in years.
It takes nearly four hours for the lights to return to Seattle. The reunion is rescheduled for a later date but, this time, the four friends opt to skip it. Tessa is too busy promoting her book, while Patrick wants to stay home to prep for an interview. Matt is taking Vera on a romantic trip with stops in all of his favorite places, and Gracie has a date. It turns out they didn't need the reunion to be free of their past. They just needed a blackout, so they could find their light.
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