The enveloping darkness. A short story by Charles Roberts

 

The enveloping darkness.

A short story by Charles Roberts

A flame flickered and died plunging the room into darkness.

“Damn!” she spat in anger, rising from her chair where she had been quietly thinking and rocking.  “Now where are those candles?” she asked no one as the room was empty.

“In the Welsh Dresser,” a voice said, “the middle drawer, left hand side at the back.”

“Who’s there?” she asked, “who are you?”

“A friend,” the voice said calmly, “just a friend.

“Friend!  I don’t have friends.  What are you doing in my house anyway?  Telling me where I keep my candles.  What’s your name?  You call yourself my friend, when I know I don’t have any, so what do they call you?”

“I answer to a lot of names.”

“Don’t talk to me in riddles.  Just tell me your name.”

“Aren’t you going to get that candle first?”

“I’ll do what I want to do when I want to do it.”

“That sounds reasonable.  One thing at a time, always a good idea.”

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?”

“Let me see.  Should the cat tell the mouse when he is going to pounce?  Should the Eagle tell the rabbit when he is going to strike?  Should the general tell his enemy when he is going to attack?”

“Riddles!  Riddles!  Riddles.  Why do you talk in riddles?  Why not give me a straight answer?”

“When are you going to get that candle out of the middle drawer of the dresser, then we might be able to see something in this blackened room.”

“Don’t go telling me what to do in my own house.  If you don’t like the dark then go!  No one invited you here.  You call yourself my friend, but you show up uninvited and unexpected then go about telling me what I should do in my own house.  Be gone with you and don’t come back.”

“As you wish.”

A silence fell on the room, a silence so thick that you could have cut it with a knife.  She stood quite still halfway between her rocking chair and the dresser, she knew that there was something which usually stood between the two, but couldn’t remember what it was or how big it was.  She did know, however, that if she walked into it she would skin her shins, what should she do?

          “Are you there?” she called, “can you hear me?” she called again feeling worried and slightly scared that she was alone in that huge house without light or help.  “Come back.  I need you.”  The silence thickened, grew more intense.  “Please come back,” she was starting to panic now that she could almost feel the silence.  “I need your help,” she called again, her mouth drying with the panic.  “Please!” her tongue felt larger in her mouth, “I’m sorry for all I said,” she was rooted to the spot not daring to move.  “I’m begging you to return and help me.  Please!”  Her knees were beginning to weaken with the tiredness, the darkness like an oversized cloak wrapping itself round her and slowly squeezing her, squeezing the life out of her.  The silence, the utter and complete silence sucking the very breath out of her.

          “Please help me,” she managed to say as her knees gave way under her and she fell to the carpeted floor.  The tears started to flow, “I didn’t mean to be so rude to you,” she managed to say, “I know now that you were only trying to help,” her voice weak and muffled by the thick cloak of darkness and the choking silence.  She fell forward onto her hands and knees, struggling to breathe now that the silence was ever thicker.  “Please,” she pleaded, giving way to the weight of the cloak of darkness and finally lying down on the Persian carpet, “don’t let my life end this way.  Please come back and help me find the candles.  Please help me,” her voice no more than a whisper which was swallowed by the all-enveloping silence.  She closed her eyes because she couldn’t even see the pattern on the carpet due to the darkness.  “Help!” she managed to call through a stone dry mouth, with a tongue now twice its size, it’s over, she thought, they’ll find me in the morning, ah, but tomorrow is Sunday so they won’t find me until Monday. Ah well I suppose that I’ve had a good innings, as they say, I just wish that it didn’t have to end this way.

          The next thing she knew, or realised, was that there was a cacophony of sounds, people talking the sounds of trolley wheels on tiles.  Light was struggling to enter her closed eyes, everywhere there was sound and light, and she was being moved, she knew this because lights kept flashing above her.  Suddenly they stopped, the movement, the lights became stationary.

          “Are you all right mum?” she heard from her left, she turned her head and opened her eyes expecting to see the Persian carpet, but instead saw her daughter silhouetted against hospital curtains.  “Are you all right mum?” she asked again, putting her hand onto her mothers.

          “Yes darling,” she said managing a smile.

          “What were you doing in the dark?”

          “We had a power cut and I couldn’t find the candles.”

          “They’re in the welsh dresser mum.”