Dark
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.
I felt like writing angst; I don't know why. I typed this up nice and quick, fiteen minutes, maybe? It's about the dark (surprise!) and is from Alice's POV in the early twentieth century, when she was still in the asylum before she was changed. 2nd person. I hope you like.
When everything is dark, what do you live for?
Nothing. The answer is nothing.
Darkness has an unnerving feel as it washes over you, causing an emotion like no other to lock hard into the very bones of your skeleton. The soft trickle of the stark black force caresses your skin, makes your hair stand on end, pulses inside of you. Quietly, a silent but deathly enemy, it slithers like a snake into your bloodstream, freezing, burning, chilling, boiling. The flow of its internal desires to overtake you pushes back and forth, back and forth, in constant motion, never halting in its quest to rule over all.
The force it holds is ever changing. Sometimes it is peaceful, pleasant, even: slow and murmuring like the persistent slosh of ocean waves relentlessly circulating the white sand of the beach. Soothing. Yet, at other times, in comparison the dark is a monster, a cobra rearing its venomous neck back to strike. A snap, faster than the speed of light, bites through the air, stings your very soul.
What soul? There is no soul. Ridiculed tales to calm the pestering minds of the youth, that's what a soul really is. You are empty in the darkness. There is no life, no reason. Meaning is a pointless thing, after all; who really gives a damn about living? The blackness sucks at you, takes everything away. A giant vacuum, if you will. Which direction is up? Which is down? Left, right, sideways, perpendicular? Pssht. It is too late for that. The darkness consumes all, takes everything from you, whisking it away before your prying, desolate fingers can snatch it back.
Gone.
Enduring, timeless, aching: what is left? Why, the dark, of course! It has no matter, no shape nor form. Free as a bird, but at the same time constricting as a snake, it lets you fly, then crushes you to pieces. Liquid, gas, solid...what's the difference? Rambling thoughts are torn away, for they are not allowed. The despairing pits of concealing isolation are ravenous for every bit of happiness on earth. Their hungry growls shove you back and gain what's left, devouring the spirits of the young, the old; the new, the dead. Naught but the darkness remains.
The darkness and you.
Alone.
With the easy force of a bullet whistling past your ear, the impact winds you, knocks the breath fiercely from your already scorched lungs. You have air no more, for you have already been plunged into the depths of the drowned, the screams of the wounded. You cannot see. Colours? What are those? There aren't even shades, no grey or white or charcoal dusk. Just black, the one thing that has been your constant companion for your whole existence.
Existence...hah! How do you say these things with such casual ease? Lies, lies, all of them lies. Truth is another word for death, being damned straight and honest. For there is no truth, no realization and joy. Just the dark.
Eternally there, your lovely, wonderful friend for life.
The dark.
Anything in the entire world would be better.
Even death.
Dark -insert equal sign here because the site ate it up- Major Yippee.
Woot.
xD
Writing this has brought my mood down just a tad. Grr. Ah, well. Whether you enjoyed it or not, I'd appreciate a review. :)
Happy Father's Day!
--Annie;;/