A creeping blackness was leading me through the city streets, as I struggled to keep moving. The cold from the night crept into me, as I felt my chest tighten. Before I knew it, I was giving up and I lay there, rigid on the sidewalk, barely conscious. I felt warmth, and then the blackness took over my senses.
When I came to, I found myself in a room with strange architecture. Consoles cluttered with blinking lights and screens lined up along the walls. Strange machinery and gadgets that I couldn't fathom the function off occupied my view. There were two chairs facing each other in the middle of the room and I was strapped to one of them. Presently, two men entered the room. One of them gave a quick glance at me and proceeded to the other side of the room. The other proceeded to the console in the corner and placed a small ebony stone on the console. A voice appeared on the screen and beckoned for me.
'he awoke…'
Cradling my glass of rum, I listened to the epic tale of the universe unfold. Drinking from the glass, I filled my belly and begged for more, yet I was left with emptiness. The more the drink tasted, the more the mind fuelled me. The knowledge at hand helped me function again and the drink was more of a tranquilizer, than a pleasure.
A distant memory surfaced, a memory of a house, abandoned now, on a large grassy knoll. My father treated me like a son but in reality, he did not want me. My mother screamed at me, day and night that I was a curse, and telling me I was to blame for all the deaths that rained upon us. The cat, which I had kept for almost seventeen years, then died in my own hands. The death of the cat broke my heart, but my father didn't care. He sent me to the city to work in a factory full of other kids a few days later. I did what I was asked of and after a week, I was ready to go home.
After much persuasion, I told my father. I had no problem going home. It didn't please me to spend my time alone, without having friends of my own age. I was fifteen and I had felt no true happiness in my life. No one really cared for me. My father had my mother to himself, and I had no siblings.
Back in the city, I found a job in the warehouses. It was small, but it was a job. This job was not worth the effort, but it would do.
For two years, I worked hard, and the only thing I had to show for myself was the empty apartment. Two years I spent in solitude and misery.
A year before my father died, I was given a 'present'. A gift. It was given to me on the night of the death of my mother. A piece of black stone. It looked almost like a gem. There was a carving of a flower, with the image of a butterfly spread across the stone.
The stone was given to me as a symbol of hope. I had everything to gain from this possession, but I was too weak to do anything.
My father died a year later, of cancer. The effects were not direct, but eventual. He had brain cancer and it was terminal. He had lived for only two years after discovering the cancer. I received a large inheritance and resolved to use it well. I needed to leave the city and move to a place better than my old house.
My mother's memory would always hold a special place in my heart, but she was a horrible woman who condoned my father's cruelty. You are a waste, she used to comment to me. You are a waste of space.
I needed to get away from her. I was alone, in a big city and that scares me. The very sound of the streets can make me panic. I find myself in a stupor of fear. I have always been like this. It has been that way since I was very small.
Moving to the city didn't improve my fear of the streets. The streets were a dark place, full of mysteries and death. The streets are veiled in blackness, with moving figures of people roaming the streets, every now and then. The lights every so often brought gleefully greeted me to the city at night time. People, cars, crying and all sorts of sounds drifted through the darkened streets. I have always been anxious about the streets when I was alone.
My darkest moments have come and gone. As a child, I used that black stone to gift me with the strength to move forward. The stone reminded me to move on, on my darkest moments and kept me safe. Yet, this black stone was only a symbol for me. It had comforted me for very short times.
I have avoided the streets at all times, I have even refused to go out at night time. That had been the worst fear of my life. That was where I used to feel most vulnerable. I used this black stone to have some faith. I had had a fear of being alone on the streets, at night time. I was scared to be awake, even for a night. It was dark, cold and scary in that comfortless world of blackness. The very dark planet was in your face. The thing that scared me was that I could not control my actions in the night.
