The home of Critic, Writer and Film-maker: Liam Walters

Fiction: The Darkness

[ Written By: Liam Walters ]

[ Authors Note ]

I wrote this about Autumn 2008. As far as I can remenber, it was one of my very first pieces of short fiction. It’s also notable for the first use of not naming my characters, a trait that would carry over into many of my other short stories.


The darkness of the night overwhelmed, the light of the moon being blocked by dark clouds that ruled the sky. She sat there, down on her knees as the rain fell from the sky. The rain did not bother her. It did not bother me either. I could only stand there, watching her in the dimly lit park. I felt useless. I wanted to help her, but I could not comprehend how to. I knelt down beside her, doing the only thing I knew I could. I wrapped my arms around her, embracing her in a hug. I would be there for her. I would give her a shoulder to cry on.

We walked to my house in silence. I opened the door and switched on the light, which brightened the room. The only noises that could be heard were our steady breathing, drops of rain falling from out bodies, and the gently hum the light bulb was making. The rain had been heavy which had wet us thoroughly; her long brown hair was knotted and tangled. I walked into the bathroom, taking a few towels then going back to the living room, dropping one in front of her. She hardly noticed it, her eyes drooped, almost lifeless. I once again entered the bathroom, where I dried myself and got changed into some dry clothes.

I opened the door slightly, and saw her. She was still looking down at the floor, shaking slightly. I knew she was in great pain, not physically, but emotionally. I took a few steps forward, wanting to try to help her in any way I could, though the phone started ringing. I picked up the phone and walked into another room closing the door quietly behind me. I saw the number that was phoning me, and it was the only person who in this situation I would talk to.

“She hasn’t said a single word. Not one” I said. My voice cracked as I answered a question.

“What am I supposed to do..I want to help her…I want to see her smile again…It’s been two months and nothing has changed..I hate how she feels right now” I said, my voices breaking at parts, my throat sore and tears running down my face.

I had become quiet, just listening to the voice on the other end of the line. I wanted to be strong, but I knew I was not. I had never been emotionally strong; I always needed looking after. I could see her through the window of the door; as well as the darkness that consumed her. It hurt me, though I knew she was hurting more. I knew there wasn’t anything I could say, anything that I could do. There was no magic cure; only time could heal this wound.

The conversation ended and I hung up the phone. I took a minute to compose myself. I would not tell her I felt. She needn’t worry over me. She had done nothing wrong; it was not her fault that I hurt, and I would not let her blame herself. I would face my darkness on my own, though I would be there for her. I would help her face her darkness, stand there with her, so hopefully one day she could smile again. On that day, when she steps out of her darkness, I too will hopefully be able to. Then we will be able to feel the warmth of the sun once more, see the light shining down on us. And then get on with the rest of our lives.


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