EVERY LAST LIGHT: By Grant Wamack
Monday, March 7th, 2011“Goodbye.”
Those were the last words I said to my boss as I loosened my silk tie and left the business world forever. I sure as hell wouldn’t miss the claustrophobic cubicles or the smell of bitter coffee seeping into the off white walls.
I wasn’t sure why I did it. It was just an urge that came over me like a wave crashing down in the night.
I grabbed my black briefcase, drove home and packed a small amount of things into an old ratty backpack. I left my door open, hinges groaning in the wind. Perhaps someone could find some use for this place because where I was going I knew I wasn’t going to need it.
I walked to the woods nearby, about ten miles of sweat and doubt. The only thing that kept me going was the strange pull and beauty of the tall ancient oak trees. I walked deeper and deeper into the brush, in an attempt to find someplace untouched by humans.
The sun dipped low, splashing the sky with vibrant shades of purple and orange. I paused and stared at the ever darkening sky. An owl hooted in the distance and there was a skittering nearby.
This space would do just fine. I unpacked a blue blanket given to me by my mother and sat down Indian style.
I closed my eyes and began to breathe in deeply, inhaling and exhaling. I concentrated on my breaths, creating a solid rhythm and sinking ever so slowly into the darkness beneath my eyelids.
I released any stray thoughts that remained and let my mind drift aimlessly in a sea of darkness. I began to hum and the freedom became exhilarating.
After some time passed, a subtle hum slid underneath my own. It was difficult to hear, but with some careful listening, it grew more prominent.
I was compelled to find the source of the hum. I thought it would be fun to chase after this sound, possibly gain enlightenment in the process.
So I swam deeper and deeper into the dark and the humming grew louder, flowing through me. Each pulse of sound filled my body, every atom, with a new, mysterious substance.
Once it sunk into me I began to panic.
This was too much.
I didn’t want this. There was something terribly wrong. Something so profoundly off that I had to fight with every fiber of my being to escape its grasp.
I opened my eyes, drenched in sweat and everything was different. At first glance, you might think everything was exactly the same down to the most minute detail. But the differences were even smaller, almost unnoticeable to the human eye. However, they were there nonetheless.
For instance, the trees were shaking in the wind, but a bit too much. The branches clawed at the sky, wishing to rip it apart.
I ran back home under the veil of night. I stared up at the stars, but there was something so frightening about their light that I had to look away.
I rushed inside my house, locked the door, and didn’t even bother to turn on any lights. I closed all the shades and sat inside my study listening to the sound of crickets and other nightlife creep inside.
With bloodshot eyes I sat, submerged in darkness, patiently waiting for that familiar hum to return and every last light to completely vanish with it.
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©2011 Grant Wamack
Grant Wamack writes weird fiction and sails the seven seas. He has been published in variety of places including The New Flesh, Polluto 2, and Microhorror. He dwells here. http://grantwamack.wordpress.com/
