Valerie Gordon

Opposites

“Dear, wake up…and come to bed!” I said.  “The news is on already.”

“You scared me half to death, don’t do that!  I’m coming.”

“Don’t forget to feed the dogs.” I respond.  I can’t tolerate the smell of dog food, makes my stomach roll.  “I saw the cutest purse in Macy’s today.  It was a combination of suede and leather, and it was only $85.”

“You already have thirteen purses, almost as many as when we got married.  You don’t need any more, you can only use one at a time,” my husband replied.  “You almost have as many shoes as you did then, and you only have two feet.”

I thought back to the beginning of our life together, twenty-seven years ago.  He’s right, of course.  I had twenty-six pairs of shoes and eighteen purses when we got married.  I could not pass a store that sold them to save my life, and if I saw anything I wanted, I was apt to spend the rent money.  When the kids came along I was forced to curb my fetish for shoes and purses.

As I am contemplating this, he is making the rounds, turning off the lights and TV, making sure the doors are locked.  I am always a little uneasy when the house becomes dark—when the last light is extinguished.  I had watched the last rays of the sun melting in the western sky.  Night slipped in behind, turning the heavens blue, that darkened to black in the east.  As the last light in the kitchen goes out, I turn on the lamp next to my bed, trying to stave off the night a few minutes more.

We usually think of light as coming from a lamp or other source of brightness, a candle or the sun.  I keep flashlights for emergencies and stock up on candles and oil lamps in case the batteries run out.  The sun lights our days and the moon our nights.  When the moon is dark, we have the stars.  The lights of our cities can be seen from many miles into space and make the stars and moon seem dim in comparison.  Is this a good thing?

          Since my distant ancestors began to roam this earth, they strived to eliminate the darkness.  What could not be seen, those things that were hidden in the dark, were to be feared.  Cavemen gathered in groups, thinking there was safety in numbers.  With the knowledge of fire came a defense against the darkness, a way to keep their offspring safe, secure from those unseen threats in the blackness outside the reach of the flames. 

“Dear,” I say, “Don’t forget to close the doors and turn on the nightlight in the bathroom.”

“Yes, dear.”

Thomas Edison made it possible for all of us to light up our world with the flip of a switch.  Each night as we ready our own children for slumber, we check in the closet and under the bed; all the dark places.  To ease the fear of what is lurking, we leave a nightlight burning to keep our precious babies safe.  In the cities, we light up our neighborhoods with electricity.  We gather in groups, like our ancestors, keeping at bay the face of the unknown that dwells in the dark.  We drink, dance, and act merry in our artificial daytime, thinking that the light and noise will keep us safe.  And still, there are places, in the shadows that the light doesn’t reach.  Does that mean that the dark is bad?

“Did you remember to turn on the light?” I ask.

“Yes, dear.”

          To most of us dark is simply the absence of light, but I find it to be gloomy and depressing, and many believe that the dark does, in fact hold something evil.  Can dark really be all that or is it different things to different people?

          I say, “I knew a kid in high school who had been totally blind from birth.  For Phil it was always night.  He had never seen the colors of the wildflowers or the shadow he cast in the sunshine.  He didn’t let his blindness stop him from living his life.  He played the twelve string guitar and built a ham radio from specially marked parts.  When I last saw him he was working for Billy Graham.”  Clearly the dark was not his enemy, nor was it evil; it was all he knew. 

My husband gives me an odd look, but doesn’t ask any questions.  “Good night, dear,” he says.  “Sweet dreams.”

We talk of something being "as dark as a cave" and criminals revel in "the dark of the moon".  The dark steals the colors and replaces them with shades of gray.  The period in mankind's history known as the Dark Ages was not dark—there was as much sunlight as there is now.  We call it that because it was a period of little enlightenment.  There was little learning, art, or music; those pursuits that bring joy to so many.  Can it be that those things, far from being electric, can add light to our world?

“You, too,” I say, but he is already asleep.

          Like my husband, there are some who believe that the dark is a good thing.  For them it brings relief from pain, it hides the outward trappings of our imperfect world.  It covers the disasters that mankind has wrought upon this planet and makes our world look, for even a short time, more like that one our creator made.  Before the advent of electrically powered lighting, the darkness meant a respite from labor. 

          As I lie down to sleep I know that this should be a time for rest, for the body and the soul.  I know this in my mind, but my heart still holds that trace of fear that the dark held for those who came before me. 

          A time for rest…for the soul…

          In the darkness something reaches out. Tentatively, from that place that is devoid of light, bereft of hope.  It is searching, ensuring that there is no light.  As it advances, it brings along the numbing, cold breath of lifelessness.  It hungers, and only in the darkness can it find what it needs.  As the malignancy spreads, it leaves behind the excrement of shattered dreams and futile wishes.

          To this hellish garden they come, the fallen angels.  They come to spew their seeds, these demons of horror; Lucifer and Leviathan; Satan and Belphegor; Mamman, Beelzebub and Asmodai.  And they grow, those seeds, closing off all chinks where light could find a foothold.  Pride and envy spread; wrath, sloth and avarice entwine; gluttony and greed fight to choke the others.  The unholy miasma thrives there, in the dark, nourished by despair and watered with useless tears.

          And still it is hungry.  As it rears up, in search of the last vestige of resistance, I see it.  I see this malicious evil, this putrid ravager.  It is I.

          That face is a contorted, malicious copy of my own.  Could that ugly, hateful creature really be me?  Is that is my soul lurking the darkness?  The thought drives me to despair, sears my soul.  Is there no escape?  I run, screaming. 

That thing calls out to me, enticing me to give up to the terror that is growing.  “Come, you know you want that purse, those shoes.  Your friend Anne has a nicer car than you do.  There is that new kind of chocolate candy you have been dying to try.  Everything you want is here.”

          But I keep running and up ahead I can see there is a small glimmer, just a spark that is, perhaps, waiting to erupt into full flame.  It is the glow of hope, of life, and if I can fan this fire, I will be saved.  

I wake screaming!         

My husband asks, “Are you okay?  Were you having a bad dream?  I love you.”

“I love you,” I say, and I feel better. 

It is morning, at last.  I can only thank God that I have come through that dark unscathed.  Perhaps light is something more than sunshine or fluorescence.  I need to have more light, more hope to help me in that awful dark place.  Where can I find it?

Maybe that is the answer, perhaps light is more than electricity or fire.  If I share with someone who is in need, then my light will grow stronger.  Maybe a kindness to a stranger who has no hope will brighten both of our lights.  And surely with faith in the love and forgiveness of God, I can be loving and forgiving.  As I go through this new, sunny day let me reach out my hand and spread some of my own light to everyone whose lives I touch.  Maybe something as simple as a smile or a kind word will cause my soul to be brighter.

“Dear,” I say, “Everything in my life seems to have an opposite, an antithesis.    Man and woman...I wonder why the man always come first, rain and shine, up and down.  There is good and evil, light and dark.  I saw the dark in me, and it was terrifying.  I guess I don’t need that purse after all.  Would you like some more coffee?” 

“Huh?  Oh, yes, please,” he says, “What brought that on?”

“Oh, just a thought I had.”

My mind wanders over those two.  Light and dark…what are they exactly?  Which is the stronger?  Is the light good, as we have been led to believe, and is the dark evil?  It must be that some of each dwell within ourselves, so maybe I can choose which is the winner.

Revision Account:

          I was altogether pleased with the comments I received on my fiction story.  But it did need lots of work.

          This story came about in my last creative writing class at COM, with Stacy Burleson.  She encouraged us to think outside the box when we wrote.  One of our assignments was to write about light.  Most of that assignment can be seen in this piece.  At spring break she told us to just write anything that we had been thinking about.  Once when we workshopped one of my pieces, another student accused me of writing only uplifting stories.  What is wrong with that?  But, because of this, I went home on spring break and tried to write something darker, and decided that writing about dark was the obvious answer.  Most of that piece is also in this one.

          I did have to make many changes from the version we read in class.  I got many great suggestions from the other students.  Someone said that this would be a great opportunity to let readers know how it feels to be bi-polar.  I could not go with that idea, as it was not the message I wanted to get across in the writing.  I wanted to show that in each of us is a dark part, that we fight daily, with or without the help of God, and that there are ways of beating back those aspects of our personality that we are not proud of.

          Another suggestion was that I have light and dark become characters that conversed in the story.  I felt that this was a little too unreal and cartoony for the meaning that I was trying to convey.  I may at some time use that suggestion in another piece.

          Many of the students, and you, said that I had to have dialogue.  I have added some between my husband and me, but since this is a mostly introspective story, I still have paragraphs that are just my thoughts.  My previous experiments with dialogue have been a little stilted, I hope this is not.  My husband really does talk like that.

          I have incorporated many of the suggestions from my classmates in this piece, but I have been careful to keep the original message and feeling.  I am much happier with this now than with the original version.  Thanks to all who gave me their suggestions.

          I think the best comment was from Susan.  She said, “I will never look at light and dark the same way.”