A Flash In The Dark

A story of internal turmoil.

A Flash In The Dark by Pengkhayal Pasif is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

Part of PERSONAL

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A man sit by a table. His chest gently moved up and down, a measured breathing. His eyes stares blankly into the table, looking at nothing in particular. His mind, it's empty.

A little flash of light bounced to his eye. His eyes rolled, staring towards the light source. It's a a camera.

"What are you thinking?" A voice asked.

Another flash hit his eye. Any semblance of colors left his world. People in white plastic uniform walking around him, flashes of light occasionally hits his eye from their camera. His hands feels stiff, as if it's not there. Something is grabbing his neck, tightening his throat. His feet doesn't touch the floor. His heartbeat and his breathing is non-existent.

"It's not real," a voice assured him.

 

Another flash of light hits his eye.

It's gone.

All of it, is gone.

 

His world turns into shades of white. In front of him, there's a black silhouette, sitting across the table.

"Still have those thoughts?" The silhouette asked, it's voice feels familiar.

"Sometimes," the man answered.

 

He touched his neck. No wound mark, no rope. His skin is still as rough as it ever was.

"Do you know what will happen to..." Said the silhouette.

"Shut up! I know what will happens to him if I did it!" The man cut the silhouette.

"At least, that's what I'm imagining. That's why I never acted upon this thought," he continues, his voice is almost non-existent.

"My only reason to stay alive in spite of everything is him. If he die... then there's no reason for me to stay," he continues, little glimmer of light bounced from his eyes.

The silhouette just stay silent, listening the man, giving it's full attention to him.

"So far, my reason to stay alive is alive and well. That's all matters," the man looked at the floor, a drop of tear is leaving his eye.

 

They went silent.

The silhouette, it stands from its chair. Silently, it steps closer to the man. It stands beside him.

"I don't know if you can even feel this..." Said the silhouette, as it circle its hands around the man.

 He cannot feel it. There's no warmth, there's no tenderness to be found. The silhouette, the hug, it's all happened inside his mind.

"We've been saying this countless times, but, it is..." Said the silhouette.

"... what it is," the man continues, as their voice perfectly synced, as the silhouette vanished.

 

The man raised his head. He still sit on the same chair, in the front of a same table. There's no one else except him, just himself and an empty table covered by white cloth.

"It is what it is..." He said silently.

Swiftly, he wiped the tears from his face. Quickly, he stepped away from the table.

"It is what it is," he repeated the phrase.

 

Nothing is changed inside him.