She felt the darkness creeping in, little by little.
Obscuring everything by degree.
Felt it burrow into her mind, seeping into the cracks and filling the interstitial spaces. It took root, wouldn't let go.
It was inescapable.
Everywhere.
Eyes open. Eyes closed.
Darkness.
Inescapable.
Incrementally, it pulled at her. Dragged her down.
It got harder and harder to see the light.
There was a war in her mind.
She tried to fight the darkness.
But you can't fight the dark. It always wins.
Still, something in her rallied for the futile fight.
Perhaps she could fight the inevitable a little longer.
Keep the darkness at bay.
One day, on a whim, she bought a flame. Wasn't really sure what compelled her to step into the shop and pick out an expensive, silver lighter.
It felt right though.
It became her talisman. Her strength.
She carried it in hand, fingers gliding against the smooth, silver case.
And when the blackness overwhelmed her, pressed in from all sides, she pulled it out.
Illuminated the dark.
Tried to keep the shadows, the demons, at bay.
Eventually that tiny flame would flicker and die. She knew it.
Inevitable.
Until then, she shielded it. Guarded the light.
She had to keep the dark away.