shortstyblackness

Short Stories

A Short Story by Nicole Thomas,
a fellow survivor and aspiring writer.

   I wake up this morning and as I stretch I notice the way the sun peeps through my window shades. A smile begins to form on my face at the site of the golden rays shining through the blinds. But before the smile can fully form, the familiar dark cloud begins to settle in my mind. The blackness is back. The sun that almost put a smile on my face now does nothing for me. My heart begins to sink, as I think, “not again”.
    I roll back over and shut my eyes in a desperate attempt to block out the depression that waits for me each morning. As I pull the covers over my head, my inner mind begins to let pictures flash across my memory. I bury myself deeper into my bed trying to shut out the memories. I feel as if I’m watching a movie where there is no stop button. They just won’t quit coming. Each scene hits me like knives, piercing my heart.
    I finally give up fighting the memories and get out of bed. I put on the same ‘ole gray sweats, the same ‘ole yellow robe, and pull my dark brown hair into a ponytail. The blackness pulls me further down with each movement I make. I make my way into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. That’s when I noticed the time. 1 p.m. I had slept till 1 in the afternoon again. A sigh escapes me. I don’t care though.
    I get my coffee and head into the living room where my husband and my daughters are. As I head to the chair, my husband catches my eye. He knows…another bad day. He smiles a reassuring smile over the heads of our daughters. I sit down and light a cigarette. Failure and shame wash over me like a tidal wave. I have sat in this same chair for months now. I watch my family as if I’m an outsider, wishing and wanting more than anything to be apart of their group.
    As my husband hugs me tightly as he leaves for work, I feel myself fall further into the blackness. I just sit there waiting…for what I have no idea. I really don’t know, but I’ve had this same routine for months now. I lost my job because of this pit I’m in…when was that? Not sure, one day seems like the next anymore. I don’t even know what day it is let alone the month.
    I watch my daughters play and hope maybe today will be different. I think maybe I’ll try and pick up the house, instead of depending on my husband to do it. I try, but no energy or even desire to do it. Besides, I really don’t care what the house looks like.
    I think then maybe at least I could sit on my porch swing, the girls would like that. We used to do that all the time. Swing back and forth watching the stars and listening to the night sounds. But the thought of walking out the door, even onto my own porch, sends me into a panic attack. I look at the time again. When did I take my anti-depressants? Oh yeah, I just did. I can’t take my anxiety pill for awhile yet. I have to try and remain calm.
    As I put out my cigarette, I think how about a book? I used to love to read. It was always nice to get lost inside a book. Each word joining together to make sentences and each sentence joining together to form images in my mind. I thought I would read one to the girls, they like stories too. But as I pick up a book sitting on the end table and look at the words, they blur together and make no sense to me. I can’t concentrate enough to even try to decipher them. So I put it back down.
    I feel myself spiral farther down into that black pit of darkness. Memories grip me as I fall. I light another cigarette in an effort to remain calm. I know eventually I’ll desolve into tears, but I try and fight them for my daughters sake, as well as my own.
    They are playing with their dolls and keep begging me to play with them. I used to spend hours playing with them. I put my cigarette out as that thought flashed through my mind. I lean over in my chair and lay my head on the armrest as the tears start to fall.
    My babies, my beautiful daughters, get up from their dolls and come and sit with me in the chair. They hug me and wipe my tears as they roll down my cheeks. They both hug me again and tell me in their little voices how much they love me. They give me their favorite dolls for me to hold to make me feel better. The tears fall faster at their tender innocence.
    They know mommy is sick. Daddy has told them. I try to straighten myself up for them. I don’t want them to see their mommy like this. Their precious little faces are so full of concern. This is something they shouldn’t have to worry about at their age. I dry my tears and push back the blackness in an effort to appear okay to them. I play a few minutes, but then I feel the blackness pushing at my mind again. I know I’m going to start crying again. So I tell them that Mommy has to go to the bathroom.
    As I close the bathroom door behind me, I slid down the door and sit on the floor as the tears start falling. I hug my knees to my chest as they keep coming. Crying silently to myself. There is no stopping them. The blackness has settled in my mind and is headed for my heart.
    Outside I hear my daughters’ laughter as they tickle each other. A small smile touches my face as I let their laughter enter my heart. It blooms there like a beautiful flower. Their laughter fills my whole body and for one brief moment, so brief I think I imagined it, my pain is gone. But I only cry harder because I want to be apart of the tickling. Feelings of failure as a mother hit me like a tidal wave. I should be laughing with them, but instead I’m crying on the bathroom floor. Finally, I hit bottom with a thud that shakes my entire body.
    I drag myself off the bathroom floor and out the door. After checking on the girls, I take an anxiety pill and crawl back into bed. This is where I stay until the crying is over. Until all I feel is numbness. I look at the clock and realize it’s time for dinner and baths.
    Somehow, I don’t know how, I get them fed, bathed, and in bed. I turn on the computer and begin looking in vain for somewhere or someone who knows this deep despair I’m in. Nothing. I sit there staring at the screen, remembering a time before the memories, before this depression…when I actually smiled.
    My husband comes home from work about then. At the sight of him, I desolve once again into tears. His face so full of love and concern comes towards me as he gathers me in his arms. Safety and love surround me, and I let it all out. I cry and I cry. He rocks me gently telling me how much he loves me; it’s not my fault and that we’ll get through this together. He keeps holding me as I cry myself to sleep.
    He puts me into bed and stays until he’s sure I’m asleep. He pulls the covers over me and gently places a tender kiss on my cheek. Tears moisten his eyes at his feelings of helplessness to for this woman whom he loves beyond words.
    He checks on the girls, makes sure the house is all shut down for the night, and gets into bed just in time to wake me from a nightmare. Once again he gathers me into his arms and whispers words of love and support as I once again feel the love and safety of him surround me. Sleep engulfs me as I feel his nearness.
    I wake up the next morning, as I stretch, I notice the way the sun is peeping through my shades.

by Nicole Thomas

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Fighting the Blackness

The Movie Theater

by Gabriel

Somehow I find myself standing in a Movie Cinema, one with many different mini theaters. I look down at my hands and find a ticket already there and no memory of buying it. I look around and find that I am the only person here. I begin to feel scared. I am soon to find out that this is no ordinary theater.
I walk slowly down the empty corridor, looking around me as I go. I am clutching the ticket hard as if I might drop it. I see many doors, but I choose the one that is closest to me and slowly open it.
There is only one chair in the theater so I sit down as the movie starts. It’s a comedy. For some reason, relief floods through my body. Scenes of happy, hysterical, funny moments of one girl’s life pass before me. I see her grow from a child to an adult. Her smile is so beautiful. Her eyes sparkle when she laughs. All too soon though, the movie is over. I get up looking sadly back at the screen, but so very happy to have seen some good times in someone’s life.
I find myself back out in the corridor again. I nervously look at all the mini theaters that I haven’t been in. I find it curious that there are no titles above the door to tell what movie is showing. I add that with the fact that there is no one else around and only one chair in the theaters and realize that this is no ordinary theater.
I look across the hall from the theater I just came out of and decide to go into that one. I open the door. The movie hasn’t started yet, so I sit in the only chair and wait. Numbness has taken over my body and I’m not sure why.
As the movie starts, I grip the arms of my chair. Fear keeps me frozen in the chair as I watch scenes of rape unfold in front of me. It’s the same girl from the other theater. I feel tears sting my eyes at the brutality of the movie. The faces of the people causing the brutality on this beautiful girl are burned into my mind. I cry harder as each scene presents itself. The girl ages from a child to a woman before my very eyes just like before. She just takes it, makes no sounds, and sheds no tears. In each scene, her eyes find mine. From the screen to my chair, I feel her pain, I feel her emptiness, and I feel her helplessness. Finally, the movie is over. I just sit there shaking all over. I hurt so much for her.
Again, as if by magic, I find myself back in the corridor again, trying to decide which door to pick and not really sure I want too. Perspiration beads break out on my forehead as I try to make my decision. I reluctantly enter another theater.
I sit in the only seat, as screams echo through the theater. I look around me as terror grips my heart, seeing nothing I search the screen and find the source. The same woman, from all the other theaters, is being beaten by a blonde haired man. I recognized him from the previous theater. He is kicking her in the stomach. With each kick he tells her she is worthless, fat, and ugly. She is balled up trying to protect herself.
Like before, her eyes find mine. I feel each kick as if it is happening to me cutting like a knife. I get lost in her eyes feeling and hearing her silent cry for help. Her eyes tell me this is not the first time the blonde man has done this to her and it won’t be the last. Just as the movie is fading out, she reaches her hand out to me. I try desperately to reach for her, but her hand disappears before I can grab her. I sit very still. Shaking badly. I wonder aloud, “What is going on? Where am I?” This girl I keep seeing seems so familiar to me.
I am in the corridor again. I am tired of this cinema and want to get out. I don’t want to see anymore. I don’t want to see this poor woman hurt anymore. I especially don’t like the feeling I get watching her go through her pain and suffering. Upset, I begin to open doors at random, not caring, just wanting to find the way out. I open another door and enter the room only to find another theater where the movie has already started.
I stand there mesmerized by the screen. I can’t take my eyes off it, but I desperately want too. Before me on the screen is a little girl about 4 laying on a red bedspread. Another person is with her, both are naked. I feel as if I am suffocating. The older girl is touching the little girl. Our eyes meet, as the older girl puts her fingers inside the little girl. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Terror and shame fill me. I run from the theater out into the corridor again. Desperate for a way of this hell, I hurriedly open another door, rushing into the room hoping for an exit.
The movie is playing, it’s the same little girl only a little older. I try to run, but the screen holds me there. The little girl is in a laundry room with a boy, not much older than she, on top of her and his hand is over her mouth. Our eyes meet, I run. Blindly, I run down the corridor opening doors and see the same little girl in different stages of her life. She is in pain. I am in pain. I keep running as if the Devil himself is chasing me. At the end of the corridor there are 2 doors I haven’t opened yet.
I chose the one on the left. I enter the room only to discover there is no chair or a screen, only the word ‘FUTURE’ on the wall. Something from deep inside me starts to build. It terrifies me. I run again into the corridor. There is only one door left. I grip the doorknob terrified and hopeful at the same time. Terrified of what I will see and hopeful for the exit I am praying for.
I push the door open. The movie is playing, but it is different from the others. It looks like a mirror. I am on the screen this time. I see myself walk into the room and stand there. Suddenly, realization washes over me and through me. It hits me like a tidal wave. The little girl…the woman…the scenes of their lives…no, I shake my head. NO, I scream as I sink to the floor. NO! I scream one final time. It echoes throughout the entire cinema. I see myself on the screen crying…on the floor shaking my head in disbelief.
It’s me! The little girl, the woman, all those awful things are me! My mind…I’m in my mind! There is no way out. Fear grips me. I feel myself losing complete control. I just start screaming like a wild woman. I’m completely hysterical. I rip the ticket into tiny little pieces, screaming at the top of my lungs the whole time.
From out of no where, gentle arms wrap themselves around me. ‘It’s ok’ vibrates softly through my body, filling my senses. I open my eyes and find myself not in the corridor, but in my own room in my bed…in my husband’s arms. I am crying hysterically trying to tell him what happened. He reassures me that I’m safe and that it was only a dream. He holds me until I am asleep again.
I find myself holding the same ticket again, but this time I feel his arms around me. I am safe. I walk forward towards the different theaters determined to overcome the fear of each one. I am safe. These are scenes of my life…memories. I have to get through them to get to the future. I am safe. I place my hand on a doorknob, take a deep breath and enter.

by Gabriel 6-29-01

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