Chapter 2: The lost light

I am in the perfect in-between, although I do not appreciate it so yet. In that blissful intermediate phase of adolescence, gaining the adult sense of independence and responsibility whilst retaining the curious, impulsive instincts of a child. Sitting at the back of the classroom in the shaded corner desk, looking out the window at the winter scene, my eyes gaze out across the frosted homes and up to the mountain. It was the natural sentinel of our town, visible above all else, however I knew no one in this place saw that forested giant as I did. My eyes still continue to analyse that pine-covered slope for the twinkling of blue light, even after 6 years of searching.

My memory occasionally vomits up a now faded, brief image of him to remind me of the reason why I am always staring out this window, when I should be looking forward, ready to avoid the pencil that is being launched straight at my head. It hits me, it always does, and like I always do, I do nothing. I have learnt now that the best way to avoid conflict is to ignore it, deny it. The gelatinous school bully squatting at his desk, watches through narrow squinted eyes for a reaction but it doesn't come. He huffs and turns to his sniggering companions, like a clan of hyena they cackle amongst themselves and then turn their attention to another victim.

They are just like the doctors. When I came down from the mountain, my child mind could not contain nor reasonably explain what I had just experienced. All sense of fear had been lost from me at that moment, on that night I had ran to the front door and hammered upon it with all my strength. Uncontrollably I relayed my story to my frantic parents. I remember. I remember what they did next, as their adult minds could not contain nor reasonably explain what they had just experienced, they suppressed it. My story was just that, a story, a product of fiction, unbelievable and untrue. It was then I learn the power of denial and suppression. It was a gift from my parents, from the doctors and from all adult kind, to deny and ignore what you cannot explain.

I walked home quickly from school. I am always ahead of the rest of the crowd, striding out of the gates, avoiding them all and focusing for home. In this winter months, the darkness encroaches quickly and by the time the school bell tolls, it has already begun to envelope the sky. Trudging up the incline to my family home, the shadows had caught up to me painting the landscape black around me. The street lamps shone islands of light in this ocean of shadows, which led me like stepping-stones all the way to the drive. A deep rumbling bark signified the neighbour's dog, a perpetually grumpy German shepherd was patrolling the yard. Avoiding going close to the fence I walked towards the house, the windows all black, carport empty, parents not yet home. The last island of golden light, the porch light bathed me, shedding away the shadows as I fumbled with my key in the frosted lock.

It was then I felt the rumble, heard the same deep low drone, same as six years ago. Turning, I felt something approaching me from behind, meeting the golden eyes of our neighbour's dog as he jumped the fence. Braced, I waited for the sensation of teeth sinking through my jacket into the flesh of my forearm, however they didn't come. In a smear of black and tan, the Alsatian bolted towards the mountain in the same manner as if he was pursuing prey. As I watched his form melted into the shadows and the trees, it was then I saw the halo of blue. The return of the lost light.