Horror Story

The rain fell in heavy sheets against the window pain, casting the city in a darker hue of blue as the failing light of the receding sun backed away from the overcast sky. I sat looking out over the azure cityscape spread out before me, it almost felt as if a saxophone should be playing some strange, lilting melody somewhere in the background. The water washed down the window of my second story flat, obscuring the crowded array of buildings behind the pane of glass. The lights were off in my small living room, a half drunk bottle of self pity lying near my outstretched hand. From somewhere upstairs came the sounds of laughter and playful running as the newlywed couple above me acted out their unsynchronized happiness that struck so discordantly with my own melancholy.

How does one pick up the broken pieces of a shattered confidence? The thought slid darkly across my thoughts, enveloping my conscious like a dark blanket of worry. The sound of the rain was my single comfort as I sat quietly watching the day die out through my small window. The isolation of the small room was punctuated by the sounds of the couple upstairs. They weren’t giggling and laughing anymore. Their happiness glared at me, a candle disturbing the otherwise welcome gloom of my own despondency. My inadequacies stared at me in the darkness, glowing eyes far more terrifying than any other childhood monster that had crept from under my bed or taken refuge in the solace of my closet. The sounds of small children playing in the alleyway rang up the walls, giggles and screams of delight again throwing me off of the dark stupor I had settled myself into.

I had failed. Happiness is a thing reserved for the successful, the triumphant, and the penitent, at this point I was none of those three. I was a failure. At this point the golden gates of the contentment I had once felt were closed off to me, and I had been cast into a black gulf of despair. I say cast when I should use a more voluntary verb. I had jumped into this ravine that I found myself. Something about my nature reveled in self-destruction.

I allowed my gaze to fall to the leather bound book lying close to the window, bathed in the dying blue light. A set of pages stitched together and glued inside the green-skinned cover. Words that I had built my life around seemed now to stare at me with mixed disappointment and grief. The azure light by now had begun to cast dark shadows of doubt across the room. I had tried and still failed. Perhaps my faith hadn’t been enough, perhaps I hadn’t tried hard enough, maybe I had misread what answers I had been given, perhaps the unthinkable had occurred and I had been shown the frailty of my belief and the reality of present circumstances had crushed my former idealistic dreams. The fact that I was a fool was not in dispute; only what kind was up for debate.

The candle of my faith wavered like the fading light that even now lay almost extinguished with the setting sun. I lit a match to try and rebuff the darkness, but it only seemed to punctuate it. How could this have happened? How could it have been allowed to go this far? I had done everything in my power to stop the failure that had eventually ended up being my own. The phone rang out in the twilight, I didn’t even stir, too tired to make the effort. A knock at the door came, and I remained seated despite my rising urge to rush to the portal and throw back the door, hungry for the companionship on the other side. Yet I stayed where I was, too afraid of the monsters lurking in the growing shadows to stray too far from my bubble of light brought on by the sputtering match. I lit another. The brief flare of the phosphate pushed back the encroaching shadows and caused the monsters to flinch away in startled fear.

The knocking on the door grew louder. The creatures snarled and crept closer to my seat. By now the only light was my single flame. The sounds of the couple upstairs had silenced, they had settled down to a night of whispering sweet nothings to each other until they fell asleep. The children outside having long been called back inside to warm homes with warm beds. The only sound was the brief pops from the little match I held and the incessant pounding on the door. The desire to open the door grew more persistent. I longed for the relief that my guest could provide. I lit another match and during its flare I leapt to my feet and ran to the door, flinging it wide open. No one was there. I looked down the hallway that stretched away into blackness, there was nothing but other doors that had remained as firmly shut as my own had been, some doors I recognized. A single paper lay folded on my doormat, with the words “Have faith, the light will come,” written across in an elegant hand. I stooped down and picked up the fragile lifeline and made my way quickly back to the refuge of my worn out recliner.

I stared out the window at the darkness that had enveloped the crowded metropolis around me. The creatures began their tireless circling as my match again began to die away. I lit another. Again the sudden brightness of the fresh flame caused the predators to pull away momentarily before again resuming their restless patrol, a feral hunger reflecting in their eyes, the only visible thing in the darkness. I continued my watching of the darkness outside of my window. At first there was only the ink of the newly risen night, then slowly as my eyes adjusted, I began to notice little spots of white, a bright cancer on the otherwise perfect blight of darkness. Stars. Little pinpoints of hope and promise stared back at me, penetrating the gloom of this, my darkest night. Memories of brighter mornings and evenings when I too had lain in the warm arms of happiness. A small determination welled up inside of me. A single hope that I clung to was all that I could find to grasp to. The hope that there was still hope to be had. That a sunrise was coming, I just had to last out the night.

The light from my small match finally reflected in my eyes. I took the paper that had the words of hope scrawled across it. I realized abruptly that it wasn’t just a piece of paper, but that it was an envelope. I opened it and looked anxiously inside it, there were three matches inside, I placed them with the rest and stared out in the darkness, a quiet resolution forming in my gut. I lit another match and settled in to wait. There would be no rest this evening. The monsters were too daring tonight and any lack of care would result in my destruction. I turned my recliner to face the eastern window and held my sacred matches even closer. The night promised to be a revealing one, and I sat back. I only hoped that my matches would be enough. I stared out again at the stars and clung to the extra strength that they gave me. Something whispered to me that it was enough. My comfort was complete as I entreated to my patience. In the darkness the snarling beasts were still circling…