The Light
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out." John 1:5
Inside every one of us, there shines a light. A spark of humanity…of hope…of life. It animates us. Gives us a conscience, even when we don't want it. Inside every one of us…Damon is no exception.
He may deny his humanity, but it still exists. Still leaks out of him unexpectedly and with inexplicable results. Each time it does, he blocks out the memory completely from his mind preferring to maintain his delusion…that there's nothing in him worth saving.
He's driving around aimlessly along dusty country roads. Why he had ever come to this hick town is beyond him. And now he's thirsty and the inhabitants of this backwoods "town" (if you could even call it that) seem to all be tucked inside their home-made patchwork quilts. He's resigned himself to knocking on a random farmhouse door at the risk of getting his head blown off when he sees her. She looks around 17 years old and is sticking her thumb out in the universal sign of a hitchhiker.
"About time," he mutters to himself as he pulls up next to her. He stretches over the passenger seat, cranks down the window and flashes her his friendliest, most innocent smile.
"Where you heading to little girl?" he drawls.
"Up the road to Dove Tail Farm," she answers. She doesn't approach the car but keeps a safe distance…after all, he is a stranger in a town where everybody knows everybody else down to their ancestors, their farm animals and probably even their produce.
"I'm up here visiting my Great-Aunt Bessie," he lies easily, figuring that there's got to be somebody by that name in such a town.
"I sat with her yesterday for a while," her eyes search his face as if looking for some resemblance to one of the "towns" people, "You must be one of Bradford's sons." She moves closer to the car.
Score one for Damon. "Yes indeedy. I've been driving all day. I know she's sound asleep by now, do you know an inn where I can stay for the night?"
"Sure. I'll show you," she opens up the passenger door and offers her hand, "I'm Annie by the way."
"Damon," he gives her hand a firm shake and catches her eye, "Now, sit still and shut up," he compels. He's already wasted enough time as it is on this useless chit-chat.
He turns into a dark lane and switches off the engine.
"Alone at last," he whispers and leans in close to her perfect little neck, so close that he can hear the staccato of her heartbeat as it pumps blood through her veins. He's just about to strike when he hears something else. Another heartbeat…tinier. His blue eyes open wide at the realisation.
He drops Annie home and compels her to forget she ever met him…and to never hitchhike again.
Inexplicable.