Alone In The Dark
Run, run, always run. But why? She didn’t know – she didn’t know how to know. What was knowledge? Something that came from the light. Then what was light? Something outside of the darkness.
Endless, piercing darkness wrapped her round, cloaking even the ground from her view. As she ran, she stumbled, for though the ground was not uneven, she was weary. Beyond sanity and beyond endurance she ran, trying to escape the night that surrounded her.
Escape it for what? The light? She knew that no more than a mere word. No, she could not remember where she’d heard the word, nor could she explain the longing within her to see that which she could not comprehend beyond the fact that it was, somehow, better than this emptiness. She was alone. Alone in the darkness.
Run, run, always run. Nothing appeared ahead and nothing vanished behind. She was the only point of reference in an infinite well of darkness. Still she ran – her point ever moving as she sought for another, whether light or place or presence.
She needed to find someone. The aching loneliness which had first spurred her to run grew with every unrewarded step, until she could no longer simply run for the finding. She must say something – anything to break the constant repetition of foot-fall, heart-beat and ragged breath. She must call out!
“Hello?” she cried, stopping for the first time, “Please, is anyone here?”
A windless air met her plea, carrying no response for an eternity, until-
“Here!” a voice called back.
Heart suddenly athunder with hope, she stumbled forward again, “Where? Where are you?” she called, even louder than before.
At once, the same voice replied: “Where are you?” it said.
She stopped, bent down and felt the ground for any mark or sign of location. Nothing but barren, dusty earth met her touch.
“I – I don’t know!” she cried, suddenly afraid that though there was someone, she would never find them, “Please, where are you? I don’t know!”
A long silence, then: “No!” the person said.
“Wha-why?” she screamed, staggering forward, “Please, I need help!” and her voice cracked as a sob forced up her throat.
“Help,” the person replied in likewise anguished tone.
She stopped, for a moment surprised. Was this person lost too? “Where are you?” she called again, “Do you know?”
Long and mournful the voice replied: “No.”
“Are you well? Or hurt?”
“Hurt.”
Again she ran forward, moving faster and with more urgency than ever before. This person – whoever they were – needed help!
“I’m coming! Just wait,” she called.
The sudden answer: “Wait!”
At once, she halted. “Why?” she called, confused, “I’m trying to help you! Please,” and her voice grew soft, “Do not be afraid.”
“Afraid.” The person replied softly.
“You don’t need to be!” she called back, “We’re not alone anymore!”
“Anymore?”
“No,” she called, laughing through grateful tears as she moved forward again, “Not anymore. I’m here for you.”
A steady silence, then: “I’m here for you.”
She felt a lump lodge in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
On and on and on she ran, stumbling even more as her weariness grew. Every now and then she would call to the person, making certain that she was headed in the right direction.
“Where are you?” she shouted, “Call so I can hear you!”
Moments slipped into darkness, before: “I can hear you!” the person replied.
She laughed, “It’s all right, I’m almost there! Just hold on, I’m coming!”
The instant reply: “I’m coming!”
She stopped, and shook her head. “But . . . but I thought you couldn’t come. Aren’t you still hurt?”
“Still hurt,” the person confirmed.
Again she moved forward. “Just wait for me, then. I’m coming – don’t move.”
“Move!” came the tart reply.
“Yeah? What does it look like I’m doing?” she muttered to herself, but called, more audibly, “I know!”
“No.”
She stopped, “No what?” she said, now incredulous, “You think I don’t know what I’m talking about? I at least seem to have a better vocabulary than you! All you ever do is repeat what I say.”
At her own words, her eyes widened.
The reply: “What I say.”
“No,” she said, voice suddenly a-tremble, “That’s what I said.”
Silence, then: “What I said.”
“No - no!” she cried, “I said that - it was me!”
“It was me!”
Gasping, she fell to her knees, legs suddenly too weak to hold her up. After a moment of panic, she swallowed, took a deep breath, and called.
“Who are you?”
The voice replied: “Who are you?”
“M-my name,” she said, desperately blinking back tears, “Is ECHO!”
“ECHO!”
“ECHO!”
“ECHO!”
“ECHO!”
She collapsed to the ground, fists clenched and mouth forming an anguished, silent “No,” as the tears streamed down her face.
And the echo died away.
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