Untitled

A conversation with darkness
Taken from the journal of Jonathan Burns-
There’s no way to know how long I had been awake. Five days? Seven? Time has a way of melting away in this place, liquefying before your eyes like the poison swimming in my spoon. Eight days? Could it be. It began with arrival of the shadows, that much is clear to me still. They….. I heard them tittering, whispering; I could feel them pointing tiny translucent fingers, and discussing my presence. They seemed to twitch, in a way, dancing and scurrying just on the edge of my vision. I would catch fleeting glimpses of them out of the corner of my eye now and then, only to turn my head finding nothing but the darkness staring back at me. Elusive little bastards, like an idea hiding in the depths of your subconscious; you feel its presence, understand its significance, but still it lays just beyond your reach.
“Perhaps with a little more medicine.” I remember saying to myself. “Perhaps then.”
The shards of glass made a dull crunching sound as I crushed them in my spoon, like someone eating a noisy brand of cereal. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Now I wouldn’t know, but I’m told that as I hover over the implements of my disease, my eyes widen, pupils dilate, savoring the sight of the devil’s cocktail with savage anticipation. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Pandemonium. Milton, invented the word to describe Hells great meeting Hall. A combination of ancient Greek words meaning all demons place. That’s what my house was beginning to feel like; Pandemonium. It had been my house only a few days ago, but now it felt as though I were trespassing upon an ancient graveyard, an unwelcome visitor to those inhabiting it. I believe that the change must have taken place around the same time my sensitivity towards the light began. Somehow, ordinary light, be it natural or otherwise, had become painful to me, too painful to bear in fact. Even when I would close my eyes to keep it from piercing my already strained vision, I could feel it crawling on my skin, infecting my very blood with the curse of self knowledge.
I remember this thought racing through my head just as I pressed down on the plunger, infusing my being with the sweet burning sinful brew. 20 seconds, that’s how long it takes if I use my left arm. 20 seconds to reach my heart. Even now, just thinking of it, my body tingles with euphoric recall. The juice coursed threw my veins warming my heart, the hair on my arms and legs stood at attention, eyes wide, vision sharp; my breath began to come in short orgasmic gasps. They call it the train. “Time to take a ride on the reading.” I would say to myself just before beginning an epic binge. They call it the train because that’s what it feels like, like a thousand tons of steel and rumbling through your veins at a hundred plus miles per hour.
Quickly I looked about the darkness. They were here, I knew they were. I had thought that another cocktail would prove my commitment, prompting them to reveal their presence, or at least give my eyes the ability to see them. I may have been more right than I knew. In fact, looking back, I know I was.
I stood gazing into the vacuumus black of my house, my tongue rapidly wiggling one of my teeth which had, over the course of the last few hours, begun to come loose. I wondered briefly if I was wiggling the tooth because it was loose, or if it was loose because I couldn’t stop tonguing it. Such questions were best left to the old man sitting smugly atop the eternal void. I had no time for such quandaries, not with this incipit tooth begging to be dislodged.
I had also begun to rapidly touch my thumb to the tip of each finger on my right hand in succession. Pointer, middle, ring, pinkie, pinkie, ring, middle, pointer. Clearly I was beginning to feel the effects of the wicked cocktail stirring within me, causing me to fidget. I wasn’t going to see them like this; it was like watching grass, waiting for it to grow. One must direct their attention else ware for a period of time if one hopes to notice a change.
I decided all at once that these matters were far too uncomfortable to be contemplated with a head full of juice, so I chose instead to retreat into my box of distractions. I then proceeded to pull the old shoe box out from under my sink and began fishing through the wonderments within. It was full of delights, nuts and bolts of various sizes, gadgets long broken yet eager to be fiddled with, interconnecting ratchets and screw bits, along with many things beyond my understanding.
My fingers delved into the box with a will of their own, attempting to match nuts to bolts, or tracing the tiny threads of a screw, wondering why my fingers never reached its base. How long did I spend in such glorious introspective investigation you may ask. Well the truth is I couldn’t say. Five minutes, five hours, one cannot speculate on time in such circumstances. I do remember the taste of blood subtly invade my senses. It was close now, the tooth that is, close to freeing itself.
“Johnny” The darkness whispered. I whirled about on my heels to face what had once been my kitchen. They were here, no doubting it now.
“Who are you?” I whispered into the shadows. Snickers, childlike laughter, and nothing more. Then I saw them. I felt my heart pounding within me, like an alien attempting to rip its way through my chest.
“The Shadows,” I whispered out loud. More giggling. I watched the wall of my living room intently through cracked door of my kitchen. Slivers of light had managed to find their way into it, despite the fact that a day ago I had duct tapped garbage bags over the windows in order to keep the dreaded light out.
The shadows seemed normal at first, but as I watched something strange was beginning to happen. The lamp, which I had unplugged for fear of accidentally turning it on, cast a particularly strange shadow just visible through the crack in the door. It seemed to vibrate, no, that’s not the right word. It seemed to expand and contract, steadily, deliberately….as if it were breathing.
Afraid that I may startle the creature (for what else could it be) back into its hiding place, I slowly stooped to the ground, and crawling ever so softly on my hands and knees, I managed to make my way over to the door without disturbing it. I could almost make out its features now; it had two, very thin slivers which were not shadow, but simply the wall behind it. Spots where the shadow did not touch. Though they were thin, I presumed these to be the creature’s eyes, and that as it seemed to be sleeping; they must be almost shut, but not quite.
There was more tittering now, only this time it was accompanied by the whispers of a strange and ancient sounding language. The ferocity and savage sounding nature of these words caused me to start, thus jerking my body and banging my head on the door. With the sound of my blunder the creature I had been observing sprung to life, its eyes turning directly towards me and a gap appearing just below its eyes in the form of a crooked grin.
“Johnny Burn.” It said in a twisted whisper.
It was at this moment that I decided that I no longer wanted to see into the shadow world. I wished that I had not taken that last shot, and for that matter, I wished that I had gone to sleep days ago like any other sensible person would have. It was, of course, too late for such regret.
Springing to me feet, I fled screaming through my kitchen into the storage room to its rear. It was a room I rarely used, and it had become filled with old boxes of useless junk, acquired through useless years of normality. I did my best to twist and contort my body through the stacks of boxes, blundering mostly, knocking boxes over and spilling their forgotten contents across the already cluttered floor. Finally, I crawled atop a particularly large box that seemed to be well hidden by another even taller stack of boxes, and curled up into a sitting fetal position. There I waited, breathless, scanning the darkness, eyes wide, terror like a spider crawling up my throat.
I closed my eyes then, not wanting to see, praying. Praying that this was a dream, that I could wake up sweaty and screaming, safe in my bed. But it wasn’t a dream. In order to dream one must choose to sleep, and if one chooses not to sleep, one should not be surprised by the worlds opened to them.
I could no longer hold my breath, nor keep my eyes clamped shut. Instead I told myself that this was a mere hallucination, a fantasy brought on by too much of that dreadful poison. So, with trembling breath, I opened my eyes, quickly, like pulling off a band-aid. For a moment I was relieved to find nothing, only the moment did not last. The darkness on the box no less than six inches from my face slowly began to turn, as if the creature had had its back to me, Its eyes slanted, its smile gruesome.
“Hello Johnny,” it said. This time it was not a whisper, this time there could be no doubt.
Shrieking in terror I fell backwards onto the floor, the piles of boxes collapsing on top of me. I kicked my legs and swung my arms as though I was being attacked by a mugger or one of the bullies from my high school, but only managed to knock over more boxes, flinging their contents across the room.
I could see them clearly now, their bright eyes and evil grins, as they danced across the walls, leaping from box to box, laughing, whispering.
“You’re not real,” I moaned, panting and writhing on the floor, “No, no, not real at all. This can’t be, no, you can’t exist. Things like this don’t happen, this is a dream, why can’t this just be a dream.” Despite my protest this was happening, and though I could not see it then, it was for the best.
The creatures seemed to take great delight in my horror, their laughter turning from giggles into howls of wicked hysteria and high pitched cackling.
“Perhaps it’s not real,” I said suddenly full of hope, “Perhaps I’ve gone insane, perhaps I’m in the peanut factory right now, bound in a straight jacket, lying on the floor of a padded room with strings of drool dangling from the corners of my mouth. Oh wouldn’t that be wonderful.” Even as I said it I knew that it wasn’t true, I wished it was, but it wasn’t, and the brief glimpse of hope faded from me.
“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny; why so glum?” The original lamp shadow asked, crouching on the wall just opposite where I lay. “You wanted to see us, you sought this place out, and now that you have found it all you can think to do is lay crying on the floor, like a bitch in labor.”
“I didn’t know, please, have mercy. Just go, go away and I swear I’ll never touch the juice again. Only leave me be!”
“Have mercy?!” The shadow cried indignantly, “Have I threatened you Johnny? have I harmed you? Tell me what I have done that you should plead for me to be merciful. No, I have not harmed you, and it is not I with whom you should plead. If you desire mercy, plead to the life you have left behind, for it was the true vice seeking to ensnare you. The life of such man as you is the true crime, and you are the criminal for inflicting it upon yourself. No Johnny, do not plead for mercy for me, for I come in the form of mercy; a resurrector, reviving you from the daily errands of an empty world, saving you from rent, work, loneliness, and awkward acquaintance. Your mind has been a prisoner, held captive by everything from your big screen TV to MLB. Do not plead mercy from me Johnny, for I am your salvation.”
“Why me,” I said, not sure I really wanted to know the answer. “Why have I been singled out for such dreadful emancipation.”
“Oh Johnny, stop your blubbering; when one is pulled up out of the shit and sick in which they have wallowed all these many years, one does not ask why. Why sir,” The lamp shadow mimicked Johnnies trembling voice, “Why have you pulled me from the dung heap. One does not ask why Johnny, call it kindness, and leave it at that. You should really be thanking us Johnny, but that’s ok for now, we understand the shock of loss when one is displaced from ones home, even if that home had been amongst the swine .”
“You didn’t answer my question,” with this I took my hands from my eyes and looked up at my self proclaimed savior.
“All in good time Johnny Boy, all in good time. I can tell you this, there is cause for you Johnny, a great and terrible cause. But enough of that for now. How can I help ease your troubled mind Johnny, some music perhaps? I saw your fine collection of records and have observed you enjoying it on many sad and lonesome nights. Yes, yes, some music should do you good. Something tragic and beautiful.” With this the shadow turned to one of his companions barking orders in a hoarse whisper, again in that ancient tongue. Abruptly the sound of music began to drift out of the living room; a soft twenties jazz tune, the kind one might have heard lofting gently from behind the heavy doors of a speak easy during the prohibition era. The raspy voice of an old and battered black man bemoaning the loss of his lover.
“There now, is that better.?” The shadow spoke to me as though soothing a frightened child. “Yes, yes, much better I see. On your feet now Johnny, were going into the other room now, going to have us a little sit down to ease your worries and to speak of things yet to come. On your feet now, theirs a good boy.”
I then rose to my feet, following the lamp shadow through my Kitchen and into the living room. The realization of this new world and its possibilities were beginning to make themselves clear to me. Perhaps the shadow’s were right, perhaps they were my salvation after all. Even now I cannot say if this is true, all I can say is that the shadow’s were my beginning, without them I would not exist as I do today. Even as I followed the lamp shadow into the next room I could feel the reality of what my life had once been fading slowly into darkness, like a dream drifting from my memory upon the moment of waking.
“Have a seat there Johnny boy, let us have ourselves a conversation in truth. Let me tell you of the emptiness in your life. Let us speak of all that your kind holds so dear, of all that you fear to leave behind, and of the true nature of these things.”
I did as the shadow instructed, sitting down on the couch opposite the wall where the lamp shadow stood. The others gathered round, quiet now, watching, listening.
“Where oh where to begin? Shall we speak in Freudian terms, about your mother and the perverse nature of all men, or perhaps of some unnamed childhood trauma, still infecting your subconscious. No, no, I think not. These themes are far to common for one such as you. What is it then Johnny? What makes you so afraid to step with us into the darkness. After all, it is with us in which your purpose lies, surely you must see that this is true. What is it then. What is it you fear to loose.”
“Well sir,” I said not exactly sure of how to address this creature, “I don’t know for certain. This is all just a little sudden.”
“Nonsense!” The shadow exclaimed, “You sought us out, remember Johnny? Don’t pretend as though this was not your wish, only speak truly now that your time has come, what is it you fear to loose.”
“I guess I don’t know.” I replied.
“hhmmmm,” The shadow said softly, “Fair enough, Johnny, fair enough. Lets get to the bottom of it then, shall we.” The shadow placed a thoughtful hand on its chin and, despite being a two dimensional projection, it appeared to lean forward, looking deep into my eyes. “You see Johnny, I already know the answer to this question, I’m simply attempting to help you see it as well. Think Johnny, think. The world is fallen, empty. There is nothing within this so called civilization worth saving, nothing at all. Yet, you fear to loose that witch connects you to the decaying ruins of this life. It’s so clear Johnny; it is not what you fear to loose, but who. Who, Johnny, who still remembers that you even exist. Who amongst the hundreds of casual acquaintances you have made over your lifetime would so much as bat an eyelid upon hearing of your death. Are there many? Is there even one?”
I sat staring blankly at the shadow creature, not wanting to think about such an awful question. “My family,” I finally whispered, “My family loves me, they would miss me.” Even as I spoke these words, I knew them to be false. Yet I felt the need to defend my existence.
“Your family!” The creature spit the words from its mouth, seeming to recoil at the very thought. “Let us be honest with one another Johnny boy. Do not contaminate the purity of this event by spewing from your lips that which you know to be untrue. You forget just who we are. All that you hoped and prayed would go unnoticed, has not. We were there Johnny, throughout your fragile existence, we were there. We were there, clinging to the walls and corners of your room as you laid down to weep. Many times I have seen this. We watched from the cracks as your parents bitterly argued, drank, and wallowed in perversion. Both of them whores. We were there when your father left, and the sadness in your heart slowly turned to hate. We were there when your siblings left one by one, abandoning you in that place, shaking the dust of their origins from their boots forever, only too happy to be leaving the stench of failure behind. How long has it been Johnny, how long since you have seen a member of your family? How long since you spoke to one on the phone? How long since you received so much as a Christmas card inscribed with a hollow sentiment? Something?? Anything to let you know that someone out there still acknowledges your presence on this planet. Remember who we are Johnny. The next time you feel the need to insult us with your lies, I will not respond so kindly.”
The shadow spoke the truth, a truth I had until now refused to face, yet remained the truth all the same.
“Who then Johnny, who else loves you?” The shadow mocked him with its question. “What other illusions do you so desperately cling to? God?”
“Yes,” I blurted out, “Yes, of course, God. His love for me is eternal. God has not forgotten me.” It sounded like a good enough answer at the time, this is, after all, what they say. But the shadow was quick to respond.
“I see you know not your creator child.” It hissed in a cruel, echoing, whisper. “God is no different a creature than the one you called father here on earth. Only his lies cut deeper than those of your actual father; they fall from heaven like the rain, swimming through the oceans, lakes, and rivers, infecting all the peoples of the world. His words are the pestilence of humanity. Don’t forget, it was God who has cast you to this lowly position in which you find yourself now. It is he who placed you amongst the wretches you so call family, and it is he who has bestowed upon you the blessing of addiction. God governs his creation with all the love and attention of a drunken sailor rolling dice in an alley for bear money. Gambling on your very existence. The dice comes up double singles, snake-eyes, and poof, Johnny Burn comes into being.” The shadow through back its head, roaring with savage laughter at its own metaphor. “Tell me Johnny, did you really believe their was more to God than this. If the Lords creation had been a Ford, it would have been a recalled within 90 days. Instead existence spins on, out of control and heading in no particular direction. Is this the God from whom you desire love? Let him be Johnny. His concern is not for you, and so yours should be likewise.”
“What then do I have to live for?” I cried, believing all that the shadows had told me. “What purpose can I serve, to others or myself? What is left? I might as well spackle the walls red with a swift pull of the trigger if all this is true.”
“No, no, Johnny boy. Never think such a thing, never again. Remember Johnny, there is cause for you here. Your purpose is here, with us, in the shadows. You shall be our hand in this world. Together we shall accomplish all that you desire. The things you have prayed for will now be yours, and in return, yours will be a voice of darkness, a trumpeters call to the worlds unsatisfied multitudes.”
All at once the creatures words began to make grave sense to me. I realized the pathetic desperation which kept me clinging to these things and to this world. What’s more, I realized all that I could be should I choose to leave these things behind. I felt the power of the shadows flowing through my blood, more powerful now than the poison had ever been. As the shadow watched this, it grinned, and its grin became infectious. I felt my own lips curve up into a jagged smile and slowly began to laugh, as did the shadows. I felt the fire of power spark deep within, and my eyes turned towards the darkness with furious intensity. There I saw, as I had never seen before, a world beyond the boundaries of that which I had known before. There was no light by which to see, yet I could see clearly. The darkness became the medium in which I saw, and the light became as darkness.
“But wait,” I whispered suddenly recoiling against the change. “What about her?”
“Her?” The shadow seemed annoyed by my sudden reluctance.
“Yes,” I exclaimed, “Her. Susan. She’s my friend, my girlfriend I guess. She cares. She will miss me. Will I still be able to see her, talk to her? Will she see me differently after this? Will she still love me?”
“Love?” The shadow gave a short sharp laugh, “You? Ha!! Don’t tell me that you cling to this little girls affections more deeply than any of those we have already discussed. Don’t tell me that your delusions of love for this merry strumpet are actually holding you back from taking this final, glorious, step. Perhaps I had you wrong Johnny, perhaps your not strong enough for this becoming. I had such high hopes for you Johnny Boy, such high hopes indeed. Alas, I have grown close to you Johnny, I wish you were stronger, but if this is where I must leave you, than that is how it shall be.”
“No, no.” I pleaded. The power I felt only moments ago was now fading from me. I didn’t want to loose it. “I didn’t mean for you to go. Please don’t go. Tell me. Tell me like you told me of the others. Tell me how she does not love me, tell me that she fucks other men, or that she speaks horrible lies about me behind my back.” The shadows response was sly.
“What can we say that you have not just said. We speak only the truth Johnny, and all men recognize the truth when they see it. Whether you choose to ignore it is completely up to you. But know this Johnny, we wont play second fiddle to any of your delusions. If you do wish to join us, there can be no doubt as to where your loyalties lay. If this girl really means that much to you, then it is her that we require as a sacrifice. Quickly now, you must decide. She is coming.”
There was a knock on the door. “John…? John, are you home?” The voice came from outside the front door and snapped me out of my trancelike state. Suddenly I was alone, sitting in the darkness of my house. The shadows seemed to be gone, though I was still somewhat out of my mind due to the juice. I began to wonder whether any of it was real, whether the shadows had been anything other than figments of my imagination. I could hear Susan calling my name at the door, but was afraid to answer it. I didn’t want her to see me like this.
“John, I’m worried about you. I haven’t heard from you in a week. I called your work and they said that you haven’t been in since last Tuesday. John please open the door. If you need help we can get it for you. Please John, I love you, just open the door, please.” Her voice sounded so concerned, so genuine.
At last I decided to let her in. Perhaps I did need help. As I walked through the living room and into the hallway to the front door, a movement caught my attention. It was a shadow, slithering under the door which lead to my basement. Its voice cut through my doubts about my earlier encounter. I stood frozen by its hissing whisper.
“Remember Johnny, remember what it is we offer. Bring her to us Johnny, the sacrifice must be made.”
“Surely there’s another way.”
“No Johnny, this is the only way. This is all that is left. There is cause for you Johnny, a great and terrible cause.”
I remembered all the shadows had told me now, I remembered the taste of power I had received and realized the hunger I felt for more. I remembered my doubts about this woman at my door, this husk I clung to in moments of weakness, and knew at once what must be done.
The deadbolt slid open with a dull click, and slowly I receded into the shadows.
“John, is that you.” Her voice trembled with fear, yet something drove her to crack the door and take a hesitant step inside the house. “Where are you John, your scaring me.”
“I’m here Susie, back here.”
“John?” She said opening the door the rest of the way. The mid-afternoon sun flooded into the darkened entryway, but I was careful to stay in the darkness. Still, the sunlight pained my eyes. All that was visible amongst the blinding white light was her slender silhouette. She looked like an angle, and I hated her for it.
“John, I cant see you. What are you doing back there?” Her voice still trembled.
“Just a little further back,” I replied, “I want to show you something.”
“If you need help, we can get you help,” she said, still taking slow steps forward. “I know you have problems. I know there are things…..things you don’t talk about. But we can get you help John, and maybe we can even be happy… you know… together. Please John, I can’t see you.”
“Don’t worry about that just now baby, I just need to show you something. It really is a wonder Susie bear, something truly amazing. Its just a little further now, then we’ll be together. We’ll be together forever.” I grasped the doorknob to the basement with my left hand as she approached.
“John… I still cant see you John…its so dark.”
She was within my grasp now, and there was no hesitation. With one swift motion I grabbed her fiercely with my right hand and opened the door with my left, flinging her down the basement stairs, where the shadows laid in wait. I slammed the door and threw my weight against it.
“John! Oh my God, John, what are doing. What’s down here John? What is this!? What is this down here with me!?!”
As I held the door, I seemed to leave my body. The sounds of violence coming from the basement sounded far away. Screams fading into the night. Somehow I knew when it was done. I stumbled back into the living room, returning once again to my body, not really understanding what had just happened.
I made it to my kitchen, and steadied myself with one hand on the kitchen table, where the implements of my disease sat waiting. Once again, the taste of blood subtly invaded my senses. Only this time the taste seemed less familiar somehow.
I sat at the table, changed forever. I sat shrouded in darkness, and smiled a twisted, gruesome smile, mumbling to myself.
“Time to take a ride on the Reading.”
Crunch, crunch, crunch.