Afraid of the Light(C. Johnson) They say that the life you’re brought into is the life you’re supposed to live, but was I supposed to go through my whole life being afraid of the light?

I was raised all my life in this tiny house in the middle of nowhere, or at least according to my parents, if they really were my parents that is. My parents’ skin was so pale, and their cheek bones were so prominent they scared me. Hey, come to think of it, I never knew my parents’ names. Anyhow, They looked like walking skeletons to me. And it was this, my parents, that brought me entertainment during those many years living in that house. Anytime I saw them, they were looking around for something, as if they had done something wrong. My father especially was real comical. I’m not sure if he ever meant to be that way, but he always was real funny to me. He always walked around with this hump in his back. I always asked to ride his back, but he always said no. But aside from the funny aspects of living in the place, there were also some very strange aspects too.

My parents did care for me though, despite the fact that I was a feral child. I wasn’t one of those feral children who was neglected or beaten by their parents, or raised by a pack of animals. I had a pretty normal life actually. Except for one thing—-I was afraid of the light. My parents boarded up the place so much so that no light was ever able to get in. I don’t ever recall seeing any light. What I do recall seeing a lot of though was the dark, and a lot of it. I’m sure that the day I stepped out from the place, my pupils exploded. But really, it was that dark in the place. You’d think that it would be hard to live life in the dark, but it wasn’t. I remember being really confused because I couldn’t see what was around me, but it became easy for me. By living in the dark, I was used to not seeing very well and using my ears as a guide. There wasn’t a time in my life that I ever saw a light. Ever. There was no electronics, no radio, no telephones, no anything in the house. There wasn’t even a refrigerator! In the morning, my parents brushed my teeth and washed my face for me, and they did the same at night. I never really knew whether or not it was truly the morning or truly the night, but I always listened to what my parents said, though I always got this strange feeling that they weren’t the most sincere people ever. There was food, chairs, and one room. That was really it. They kept food in the house without a refrigerator by buying chips, cookies, and drinks. My whole diet was virtually that of a child’s dream!

I wouldn’t say that my parents were the worst parents, as they gave me an education and taught how to speak, walk, and talk. But I also wouldn’t say that they were the best either. I never had real companionship, I was never given a name (I responded to the word “you”), and the fact that I was never exposed to the light. I never really had a sense of how old I was. That was one of the things I never knew, plus my parents’ names. I had daily teachings, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and suchlike, but I was never able to step foot outside. It was forbidden.

I could revel in all the darkness that I wanted and run around the place, but I was never was able to look outside the boards that boarded up the house, or try to walk out the front door. When my parents went on their runs to get food, they’d bring bags and bags of food. They tried to limit the amount of times that they went out in order to limit the chance of me discovering the light. Before they went out on their seldom runs to the outside world, they always gave me one of their “never look outside” talks before locking me in this bedroom. The only room in the house besides the living room. The bedroom was a little different than the living room in that the bedroom had a window. My parents never mentioned it to me, I guess because they never though I’d notice it, as it was boarded up, and painted black, camouflaged in the dark. But I did end up seeing the window. I was afraid what would happen if I tried breaking the window open.

* * *

I was also never able to go anywhere near the foyer, or even worse, the door. Going anywhere near that territory was forbidden. Unfortunately, one day I trespassed there.

One day, while my parents weren’t home, I was running around like I usually do to entertain myself. Of course I was in the bedroom, but that day, for whatever reason, they left the door unlocked. I discovered it was unlocked when I was running around and keeled over into the living room, where there were three chairs, food leaning up against the walls, and the front door. The whole place was so hilarious to me. It looked like food and drinks were ready to start battle. I was surrounded by so many of them.

I was one of those real obedient kids that followed their parents’ rules. Obedient, but very awkward and graceless, causing my parents to believe that I was this little devil who tried to ruin their lives, but in reality, I tried my best to listen to them and be the best I could be. What was annoying about me that wasn’t assumption on my parents’ part was my persistence. I always asked them things, that I knew the answers to.

Despite the fact that I had this very, very powerful urge to go near the front door, somehow, I was able to ignore these feelings and entertain myself by running around again, in circles. This time, knowing what happened just now, I promised myself to be real careful this time around. Being a klutzy child though, I keeled over once more, this time. The pain from the fall wasn’t as excruciating, as I was used to the pain.

Where I fell down was a phantasmagorical place of mine. I only dreamed of being here. It was the front door. As corny and weird as it sounds, the front door was a key to the new world for me. I was so curious of how life was in the outside world. But my fear of the light was even greater. As much as I would have loved to see the light, I wouldn’t. It would be something new for me. And I don’t know what the light may hold. My parents told me that beyond the door there were these monsters that would come for me if I dared to step foot outside. The whole idea seemed ludicrous, but what if my parents were right? What if there really were monsters out there?

As I tried to get up, I felt the wall to the right of me crazily, hoping to pull myself up. This proved to be to no avail as there was nothing on the other side of me that I could hold onto. I then gave up, seeing there would be no chance of me getting up until my parents came home.

But then I remembered something. My parents told me of this thing that opened the door. My parents never told me that what the object was called, to make me scared of it I guess, but they said it was this metal, circular object that when touched, it would freeze my entire hand. Knowing that if my parents saw me near the door, they’d punish me, I knew that the door knob was the only way that I could get up, get back into the bedroom, and close the bedroom door. There was a foyer, but the foyer was far too wide for me to climb up with my hands or feet.

I started feeling around the whole place. At first, my hand tapped on the wall. To make sure that it was the wall and not the door, I felt everywhere. I moved around the floor, feeling the whole foyer, and the walls that surrounded the door. As I felt everywhere, my hand somehow landed on the door. I knew that it was the door since the surface I was touching felt much different than the walls I had touched before. I was aware that I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I was naturally curious. Naturally curious, but scared as well. But the knob was the only way to escape from this prohibited area. I started feeling the door all around. The door’s surface was rather rough, with small holes here and there.

While feeling the door, my hand struck another unknown surface. But this time the surface of it was very smooth, cold, and nice to the touch. It was circular in shape. I touched the bottom of the thing and then it extended out like a big bump, then it had a flat surface, and then there was another bump, except this time it was going down. I felt the object a little more, tried shaking it, hitting it, and lifting it, but it didn’t do anything. After several dud attempts, I tried feeling around it a little more, this time doing different things with both my hands. I just couldn’t figure the dumb thing out! I lashed my hands onto the floor, frustrated. My parents were really clever. They even boarded up the bottom of the door where light would come in.

When I lashed my hands onto the floor, what I lashed down onto was some wood. I stood their, crying at my failure to figure the thing out. I knew this object did something because while lifting, and pulling the thing, it was making moving and making this very annoying clicking noise. I wiped the tears off of my face, stood up, crashed my hands onto the thing again, and started doing anything I could to try and figure out what this thing could do. Just as I was about to give up on my third try, the thing turned. I started to hear footsteps from the other side of the door coming my way. Then I started hearing voices. Both the footsteps and the voices were becoming louder and louder. Clearer and clearer, so clear that I recognized the voices. They were those of my parents!

Quickly, I stopped frolicking with the thing, pushed my right arm down onto the thing, slowly pushed myself off from my very little arm strength, moving my legs, at a snail’s pace. You’d think I was a gimp or something, but I was actually trying my hardest to get up.

When I finally stood up from the floor, I hobbled as quick as I could to the door, still affected by the two blows to the knee I received from my own asininity earlier. When I started to move towards the bedroom, I heard a loud click, then another, and another, and another. “Darn! My parents really don’t want me getting out of this place, do they?,” I thought to myself. I cleared my mind of thoughts as any thoughts now would surely be a burden on my shoulders. I needed to focus on my one and only goal right now—to get back to the bedroom.

I heard another click, but this time it was the last one. I started to hear the door screech. The sound was so awful it echoed inside my ears! The thing was as loud as a culverin, and that’s saying something. This place must of been made in the ancient times. Anyhow, I made my way to the bedroom door and just as I was inside the bedroom, and all I had to do was close the bedroom door, the voices sounded closer than before. Then all of a sudden, the voices seized. I wondered why until I realized that I was caught in my own tracks.

Petrified by what my parents would do to me, I quickly shut the door. I knew that there was no point to this since the door was unlocked, but I just wanted sometime to myself to pray and catch my breath before my sanction. I squeezed my eyes for what was to come.

The door whipped open, and slammed against the wall that was to catch it. I couldn’t see their faces, but I sure could feel a miasma of rage in the place. here their furious breathing, their pounding hearts, and the heat that was being let out from their perspiring skin.

They both beat me until I was blue! I sure didn’t know how parents in the outside world treated their kids, but I sure as hell knew that I was at least supposed to be loved, and the beating sure didn’t feel like any love to me. From then on, I had plotted to escape from the terrible place and these despicable people that I thought were my parents. The old, loving and obedient child that they used to know, was now what they always thought I was—-mischievous. I guess for some people, it’s not where they come from. But instead, where they belong.

* * *

Knowing that there was a window in the bedroom, and that I was only allowed to be in the room when my parents weren’t home, I waited and waited for a day to come where my parents would leave the house. This proved to seem difficult to come by as my parents hardly ever did so. But thankfully, a day where they did came.

My parents did the same routine as they usually do. They told me the whole speech and then locked me in the room, this time actually remembering to lock the door. Unknown to them though, I had a whole plan figured out.

Since the day of the incident where they beat me up, I took a gallon of a drink and put it in my room. Since my parents never came into the room, as they only needed to unlock the door, I thought it was very safe to assume that my plan wouldn’t ever be foiled.

When I heard the door close, I knew it was time. I couldn’t help but grin. I planned to break the whole window by holding it in my hand and hitting it several times. I knew that plan could work. I grabbed the bottle joyfully, causing an even larger grin to form upon my face, and beat the window. Hitting the window was like I was hitting my parents. My old-self kicked in again. I felt guilty in doing it as I felt as if I were beating my parents, even though they had beaten me. The first hit frightened me very much, as I had never heard the noise that was made before and a small ray of light struck at my face. It felt warm. And warmth was something that I had never felt before, both emotionally, from my parents, and physically, from the outside world. There was something about it that was real nurturing and gentle. It was how I thought my parents were supposed to be to me.

Though nurturing and gentle, the ray of light was like a little bullet. But not one that hurt or killed. One that surprised. I wanted to believe everything my parents had told me and be afraid, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t afraid of the light. It was a real odd feeling thinking your whole life that you are afraid of the light, while you really aren’t. I banged the window again, again, and again. And more and more pockets of sun rays covered my face. I must of looked like a pepperoni pizza! I kept on “beating my parents” until the whole window was gone. I looked around to take in the sublime sight of the bedroom. I dropped the bottle as I gazed at the sight in awe. The place was covered with dust, but under all that dust were a gorgeous color scheme, a polished wooden floor, and a chandelier that was twinkling so much even though it was covered with so much dust and many webs. The place looked like a castle from ancient Europe. I knew what castles looked like ‘cause my parents taught me all about them. I knew this place was archaic! I just knew it!

I wondered what the rest of the house looked like, if it were even a house. It was probably a castle for all I knew! But I didn’t have time to be thinking of such things. I had to escape! I just had to!

I looked out of the window, unaware that my parents were already inside the house. I looked fixedly at loveliness of nature. The people, the noises, the animals. Everything was all so exquisite! I heard the door behind me open, and my heart plummeted to the bottom of my gut. My hands were getting all clammy. I swiftly put one of my legs out of the window, struggling to pull my other one up. Then, like the last time, I was caught. But this time, for good.

Let’s just say that now, I’m in a better place. Where there is no darkness. Where there is no malice. Where there is no dishonesty. I am now not afraid of the light. But rather, afraid of the dark.

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