Bits Before: This is my submission for the January issue of ISSUEMag. Their theme for that month is 'Light'
Dreaming of Light
Darkness consumes me.
For most of my life, I have been curbed in
this room; this single solitary room, with nothing but sheer darkness
accompanying me. Sometimes it feels overpowering here; I feel breathless,
confined and terrified.
But no, I am not trapped, nor am I forced
in here. No one is locking me in here to see me suffer and be tormented. The
reason that I am in this room is because I am waiting. Yes, waiting… waiting
for that moment when light will once again swathe itself in this dark and
dreary place. Waiting… hoping… anticipating… everyday.
In this room there is no door and not a
single window. The walls are painted with pink and yellow stripes. The floor,
too, is pink, and its texture felt like someone had sprinkled glitter on it. A
preposterous idea, really: glitter cannot shine in the dark. You need light to
shine.
But there is one thing in this room that I
think is sensible. There, upon one of the painted walls, hangs a mirror, framed
with tiny rhinestones. I stand in front of it occasionally, just to pass the
time.
Like the stagnant environment of this room,
my reflection always stays the same. My ebony hair is always tied up in a
top-knot, and my fringe lies perfectly in place, just above my eyebrows. I wear
pastel pink tights, a cherry-coloured top, and a short stiff skirt made with
layers of netting and pure white toe shoes. Have I always worn these? Have I
ever seen myself in any other clothes than this outfit? I cannot remember.
In this room, there is hardly any sound.
Occasionally, I hear the twittering of a nearby bird or the harmonious chirping
of a cricket orchestra outside this room. They are always welcome for they are
my much needed solace and my salvation from slowly losing my mind. Being in a
box like this, put in the dark and silence… it can take a toll on your mind.
The dark environment invites murky thoughts, weaving in and out of my mind,
unlocking every worry, nipping at my nerves, prodding my agitation. What if my
light never returns? What if she has forgotten about me? What if I am left
here, alone, abandoned and forgotten, for all of eternity? The thought that I
could be enveloped in darkness until the end of my days weakens my knees and
fills my whole body with panic.
I shake my head to rid me of these
thoughts. These figments of my mind does nothing but bring fear to myself. And
when that happens, when overwhelming what
if's override my brain, when I am
feeling desperately lonely, I stand in front of the mirror and sing songs to
myself.
“Somewhere
over the rainbow… skies are blue… and the dreams that you dare to dream… really
do come true.”
Do dreams really come true? If I dared
enough, would it really? I dream that my person would come by more frequently.
Her visits are becoming less and less of late, and I fear the day when she does
not come at all. Please, I whisper to the rhinestones, I hope that she will
open up this room and let me see the light again.
I hear her talking sometimes, a high
pitched tone resonating from a tiny crack on the upper part of the walls. My heart
swells each time I hear her voice. My breathing starts to race. A gush of
energy zaps within me. She is so close,
so close.
My person talks in a lisp and she giggles a
lot. During her visits, she would smile as she watches me. Her whole face
illuminates, her eyes brighten and her cheeks colour. She is my light. I want to say something to her whenever she looks
at me that way, but I know my voice could never reach her.
So I just smile back at her.
She seems to understand me and let out a
small giggle.
Isn’t it amazing that all people smile in
the same language?
I hear footsteps coming from that crack in
the wall.
I could tell that there were friends
accompanying her today. My heart skips a beat, as if it knows something that I
do not. Maybe it would be today. Maybe today my person would unlock the opening
in this room. Maybe today I would see sunlight once again.
When was the last time I had seen it? Last
week? Last month? Last year? I do not know. Time stays still in the dark.
Nevertheless, it does not matter, really; just as long as this day-- oh, please, please,please-- will be the
day that she unlocks this room.
Anxiousness mixing with excitement, I
skitter to my accustomed spot. I poise my arms above my head and stood on my
tiptoes. Then I wait. I do nothing else but stay at my position and wait….
I hear muffled voices beyond these walls. I
can feel my heart drumming, pounding heavily against my chest. I feel the
ground beneath me shake. I do not breathe. I cannot breathe.
“Can I see this?” There is an unfamiliar
voice talking to my person. My hands are icy cold, but my insides feel like it
is on fire.
My person speaks this time, her lisp more
evident today, “Ok! Shure! Let me open it for you!”
The ground beneath me shakes again. My
heart thumps and thuds, my stomach churns and flips, my hands tremble and my
feet shake.
I hear an audible click.
White light shines into my room, covering
everything with its brightness, chasing away the darkness that previously lurks
there. The pink and yellow stripes look bright and cheerful. The glitter on the
floor shine like jewellery. The rhinestones on the mirror reflect the light and
scatter it all around.
Everything looks like a dream.
‘Somewhere Above the Rainbow’ starts to
play.
I start to twirl.
“She’s so pretty!”
“I know! She’s my ballerina, and no one
else’s.”
“I’m asking for a music-box too for my
birthday next month!”
Their eyes are shining bright and their
lips are curved up in pure joy. I smile back at the two eight-year-olds. This
is more than I could ever ask for. This is the dream that I never dared to
dream; for not one, but two of them, entertained, bright and happy just by
watching me perform my simple dance. The music continues to play, and I
continue to twirl slowly in my own arc.
In that room, darkness can consume me. It
will take me down slowly, nibbling away at my edges, gnawing at me until I
slowly find myself spiraling into a lonely cloudy abyss. But I know there will
always come a time when my person comes up and unlocks my room, and that is
when my entire world is bright with a hundred rainbow colours. That is when I
feel rejuvenated, replenished and as if I was reborn. And I know, nothing else
could compare to that.
My eyes meet my person’s.
“I’m so glad you’re my ballerina…” she
whispers, as if those words are only meant for me.
"I'm so glad you are my light."
My words are silent, but my smile is
brilliantly bright.
And she smiles back at me in return.
