Photo credit to Rodion Kutsaev @ https://unsplash.com/@frostroomhead
“What are you doing Bea?” Michael asked, annoyed at his sister. She was just sitting there, looking deep into the dark outside as if her gaze alone could tear it apart. His bright eyes staring at her back, questioning, doubting.
“I am just waiting for the Light to come back.” Beatrice answered without waiting for his reply. She knew he wouldn’t understand and he didn’t, so he left. She felt his eyes leave the room.
Angry. Pained. Scared. That is how he felt when he stepped into the night. Angry at his sister, who would rather wait for the Light that might or might not come back. She said it would but couldn’t explain why or how, so she just waited, patiently, stubbornly. He was in pain because he felt alone. She had shut him out. She was there alright, only not with him. He was scared because he just didn’t understand what had happened.
Beatrice knew her brother had walked out on her. She cared oh so deeply. He was all that was left, all that matter. But this was more important. She knew the Light would come back. She had seen it in her dreams over and over. She had known it would go away but that hadn’t stop the fear that overcame her when it happened. She didn’t hate the darkness, she knew it to be finite as the space in that room.
Michael groaned silently. He was confused. There was no one else there for him but Beatrice and she seemed unreachable, as if her mind had gone away with the Light. Maybe that was it, maybe she had just lost it. He sighed, and cursed the darkness. A whole planet without light. How long would it be until life faded away? Could they adapt? Could anyone? Why had they gone to that country house they both hated so much? What had driven them there, and why did they stay?
Questions he didn’t have answers for, only despair. And yet Bea was there, waiting.
Beatrice sighed deeply. Another futile gesture, wasted in the fact she was alone. Her brother was drifting apart and the darkness seemed to become…darker, if that was even possible. She knew she wasn’t alone as much as she felt she was. How could everything vanish like that? Just like that? What was the Light anyway, and how was it possible they had taken it for granted for so, so long? What was the darkness, if not the absence of something she couldn’t explain?
Questions she couldn’t answer but with a sigh. A sigh for her and for Michael.
The fact that suddenly everything had gone dark everywhere and for everyone did not make it easier for Michael and Bea. They didn’t understand and yet one clung to Hope and Faith, as never ending metaphors for Light and the other one gave in to Fear and Anger. All four of them flat sides of the same prism. Shine the light through Hope and an entire species can survive. Shine it through Fear or Anger, and a war will begin, the war for the Light. United in the same shape, all of them part of the same weaving and yet they can’t see each other. Physically impossible and yet feasible in the realm of the mind.
Sequentially, Beatrice sighed and Michael groaned.
And then, the Light came back.
Originally published at IT is what IT is.