A Cry in the Dark

[saladfingers]

A CRY IN THE DARK

By Ghindie

"Dream endlessly. Blind yourself. Until fantasy is the only reality you know."

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Legend:

• Orange colored text - Main character’s speech
• Pink colored text - Drifter’s speech
•* * - Signifies action
• P.O.V. - Point of view (Throughout the story there will be shifts in POV.)
o Normal POV - Main character’s POV
o Third person POV
o Drifter’s POV
• Italized words - Dream / memories
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First chapter: Lost in Limbo

The night slowly crept in, consuming the day's light. The darkness of the night seemed like long black fingers inching their way to cover a canopy of white clouds. He stared at the moon. It was the only thing that brought him tranquility. He then gazed deep into the starless sky, memorizing the blackness of it. It amazes him how cold and warm the night's sky can be at the same time. The night somehow made him feel warm inside yet he knew that it was during this time when his demons start to plague him. He shivered involuntarily. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes he saw a shooting star tear its way through the night sky. A weak smile forming on his lips, he made a silent wish...

"Save me..."

Penetrating through the endless blanket of darkness, the sun rose and covered the once black sky with great brightness. Stirring from his dreamless slumber he slowly opened his weary eyes, the light from the sun momentarily blinding him. Straightening up from his sitting position, he walked towards the sole tree in the garden. Nobody was there except him.

He wasn't always alone. In his mind, he knew that there was once a time he mingled with the masses of pretensions and hate that called themselves people. It wasn't that long ago. But he wondered why it was so hard for him to remember. Ha, he knew exactly the reason why. For the past years he tried so hard to rid himself of those memories fearing that they were only an illusion as well. False memories are the last thing he needed, that would be the final straw before he plunges into the void of senselessness. He didn't want the only thing that keeps him sane to be regarded as a part of his shattered imagination. He felt sick, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to forget or remember. He sighed. For an untrained or inexperienced mind, the brain could perceive the sound he made as something very ordinary, but for him or somebody who shares the same anguish he felt, that simple gesture was something big. The moment the sound rolled out of his lips, it pained his insides. His sigh was his defeat, his surrender.

"No, those memories were real. I'm sure of it. I...I belonged somewhere once. I know I did. I was once w..wanted, needed."

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, fearing that if he lingered on it for too long they would vanish, leaving him more barren and empty than he already is. He resigned to thinking that he was indeed a coward controlled by fear. Fear to face his demons and prove once and for all if those memories were really his.

"Not now. I am not ready to know the truth yet."

He slowly lifted his gaze to stare at the sun. He squinted at the piercing light the sun greeted him with. He knew exactly that that would happen; yet he could never be prepared for it. The intensity of the light permeating his lifeless eyes. He hung his head down in defeat. Feeling betrayed at his efforts to connect with the world, he continued to approach the old tree that stood in the middle of the colorless plane of drying grass and whatnot. He tried glancing at the sun once more and once again averted his gaze the minute the intense light made contact with his eyes. He cursed under his breath. He hated the sun. He always hated something he couldn't have. But the sun angered him more than the other things selfishly deprived from him. It paraded itself as a mighty source of life, drawing his very soul to it. Taunting him. But the moment he finally decides to reach out to it, nothing but stabbing light welcomes him. Rejected once again.

"Pulling away when I give in. Deception. Nothing unusual."

As soon as he reached the withering apple tree, he took the closest apple and dug his yellowish teeth unto it. He savored the taste of the fruit, allowing himself to be lost in his thoughts once again. He looked around him. Traces of what was once a beautiful garden was still evident. Wood fences covered with moss encircled a cluster of dried leaves and something that looked like dried flowers. He turned his head and stared at the other part of his garden. There were mounds of dry clay that appear to have been curved to resemble dwarves. There were at least five of those that stood in the corner. Some similar to nothing but a mass of mud now. Ruined by the rain, he thought. He 'tsk-ed'. He closed his eyes and searched his mind for memories, when he found the right ones, he allowed them to replay themselves before him.


NOTE: Initially, I plan to have the entire story in a single post but this fucker of a message board has a stupid rule that a post must not contain more than 10,000 words.

[saladfingers]

[Flashback]

A smile glued upon his pale face, he forcefully thrust the shovel into the wet ground. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic with seeds in it. He took two or three then loosened his grip to watch them fall into the shallow hole he made in the ground. The seeds camouflaging themselves with the wet soil, he once again took his shovel and drove more soil into the opening, preventing any ray of light from touching the seeds that lay there. After three full hours he slowly stood up, groaning, and then stretching his aching back with both his hands on his thin waist.

"I did it!"

He need not say more to describe the happiness he felt. His face radiated with something that could only be defined as immense contentment. He got the idea of making a garden of his own when he walked past a colorful backyard filled with so much flowers, he couldn't help but drool. He saw kids running around the backyard, their laughter a wonderful song to his ears. Birds and small hairy animals that he could not identify were also present. That very moment he decided to make a haven of flowers as well.

"Come next month, flowers will begin to bloom and then children will be playing around here as well."

Months passed by but nobody came, not even a bird. The flowers started wilting. He watched sadly as everything he created with such expectations withered away.

"N...nobody came. Nobody w..will. No matter what I do, I...I am meant to be alone. I shou... I shouldn't have tried. It was a big mistake after all... I.."

At the back of his mind, he knew that this shouldn't be a big deal but a part of him also knew that this was his last resort of successfully worming his way into the world of acceptance. He tried so many ways to belong in this world, everything and everybody failed him.

"No, I failed myself. Nobody did this to me. I was the one who expected so much."

He thought that if he offered such splendor, people will go running to him and welcome him with open arms. He thought flowers were enough to attract the attention of children. He thought that his garden would earn him a companion. But he thought wrong, his solitary figure in the middle of a vast land proved this. He was alone once again. Alone like he always was.

He regarded everybody as creations placed purposely above him. He perceived them as always greater than him. During his initial rejections he consoled himself that maybe they saw him as somebody or something unworthy. Hope was his ally then, he desperately clung to it and believed that someday he would earn his place in their hearts. Eventually his despair turned into hatred, he was denied so many times that he felt hate get the best of him. Everyday he drowned himself with thoughts that people are not worthy to be with him. But of course, he knew better. He felt it was necessary to hate them so that he could replace the pain rejection brings. By hating them instead of aimlessly longing for their company he felt more whole. He disillusioned himself by thinking that they have always wanted him, it was he who doesn't want to be with them. This became an everyday ritual until he found it difficult to distinguish reality from fantasy. At first he was terrified, but ultimately he got numb, thinking that it didn't matter since he never existed on either world.

But eventually his seclusion took its toll on him, his loneliness driving him crazy. So once again he welcomed the idea of companionship. Hope gradually replaced his hatred. He decided to try again and make a garden filled with flowers that bloomed together with his dreams. But now, now that everything went plummeting to the ground his old fears once again gripped his soul.

"I'm knee-deep in my old fears again... W..Why? What'd I do wrong?"

[End of Flashback]

He was shaken from his reverie when a red petal landed on the bridge of his nose. He slowly opened his eyes, then focused on the thing between his line of sight. Naturally, his vision blurred. Shaking his head slightly he tried to recover his normal sight, but was shocked when he saw a table filled with food in front of him. On impulse, he roughly rubbed his eyes thinking that the vision before him was indeed an illusion. Cautiously, he lowered his hands from his eyes, fearing what he would see. Half-expecting it, the table with a feast on it still remained. He looked around, and his jaw practically dropped when he saw more than a hundred people surrounding him. Their mouths were opening and closing as if telling him something, but he couldn't make the words out. He narrowed his eyes, trying to read the words on everybody's lips. He instantly recognized it.

"Wel...come...Welcome! Welcome home? Whaa..? They're singing welcome home! But why?"

It slowly registered on his mind that he was witnessing a party. He feared that he was probably losing his mind but his curiosity took hold of him. He stared at the gathering before him. He was afraid to even breathe thinking that it would make everything before him disappear. His eyes were strained and watery due to the fact that he hasn't blinked since he first witnessed this. He didn't want to blink away this moment. And then there came tears. Tears flowed freely from his eyes.

“Huh? What is this supposed to…?"

He blinked in confusion. Crying was something foreign for him. Despite all his misery he never cried -- never cried with his eyes, that is. He cried in his own sick way. He trailed his still watery eyes down to his shaking wrist. There were several horizontal scars on them. This was how he cried. Driving whatever sharp object he found across his wrist. He would then watch blood drip from his cut. Like red tears they fell. His skin cried as he knew his eyes couldn’t. His mind, body and soul weeping as his blood continued to ooze from his veins. Over and over again he would draw the blade against his arm, drawing out his lifeblood, finding a strange satisfaction in the pain he caused his physical being. Pain that couldn't rival the emotional scaring he had undergone. It was something border-lining obsession, a kind of masochistic addiction he couldn’t shake. He needed the physical torment. It was his distraction. Distraction from the mental and emotional agony his waking hours brought. He shook his head to clear his mind and tried to focus on the fact that he was crying.

“Happiness…I..I..a-am happy? I am happy!”

That was the only explanation he could come up with to reason out the existence of droplets of water running down his cheeks. The warm feeling emanating from the breath of the people surrounding him brought him inexplicable comfort.

“Nirvana…”

He glanced back at the gathering of people before him but the expression on their faces caught him by surprise. They were no longer singing. They stared back at him, their gazes boring into his soul. Their faces carried an expression of disgust. Disgust. Disgust. Disgust. He repeated the words in his head over and over again. They were disgusted of him.

“Nooooo…”

One by one everybody’s faces appeared hazy, distorted. He rubbed his eyes hurriedly, thinking that the tears in his eyes were blurring his vision. The task done, he looked back at them only to discover that they were vanishing, like there was a black hole behind them that was pulling them away from him. He scrambled to his feet, determined to stop them from disappearing but a faint tap on his shoulders ended his movements. . . [/size]

[saladfingers]

Second chapter: Slipping Away

“Heya mister! Watcha doin?”

He froze. He directed his eyes to look at the person speaking. His eyes fell on a raven-haired boy who had a confused look painted across his oval face. His bangs draped on his forehead, covering a portion of his left eye. He continued to stare at the boy before him, prompting the kid to raise his eyebrows. He ignored it and continued to study the mysterious boy’s face. His eyes were blue – a cold, chilling blue. It evoked comfort and terror at the same time. The boy stood about 4 feet tall, his body was well-built. His questioning eyes traveled down the boy’s body then stopping at his face again, noticing that the kid has a rather pale complexion. He gasped as his stare landed on a large scar on the boy’s jaw. It looked vaguely familiar. That scar looked a lot like…….. His train of thought was cut when the boy spoke.

“Watcha up ta? Why yah starin’ like that!”

“Huh? Whaa.. what? H..how did you? Who are you?!”

*giggles*
“Yar one weird man! Yah stare then ask at once! Hehe. I dunno, I was walkin’ then I saw you cryin’ so I thought you was hurt or somethin’ but I think yah was dreamin’. Yah was shouting and sayin’ other stuff. Me thinks yar crazy!”
*laughs*

He stared as the boy’s mouth open and then close, fascinated by the movements of his small lips. He knew the boy was talking to him but at that moment he didn’t care. The fact that he was with another human being, let alone having a conversation overwhelmed him that he could not bring himself to think rational thoughts. Countless emotions surged through his veins. His knees felt weak, his palms sweaty, and his heartbeat was so fast he found it difficult to breathe. Despite the internal chaos he was experiencing, he was certain of one thing – that this boy was real. Yes, real, not like the group of people singing for him just moments ago. He sighed; mentally kicking himself for allowing another of his illusions deceive him. He almost believed that they were real, that they were welcoming him to their realm. He shook his head. He sensed the boy step closer to him. He had to thank the kid for waking him from his trance, saving him yet again before he got his hopes up.

“I..uh..I thank you for..uh..nevermind. How’d you get here? Are you alone? What’s your name?”

“Oi, slow down with ta questionin’ mister. I can only answer one at a time. Pfft. Yah really are weird. I thought I told yah already, I was walkin’ then I saw yah here. Yeah, me alone. Hmm..name yah ask? I dunno, I forgot my name but those buncha old folks call me Drifter. Yeah, that’s it yah can call me Drifter! Yah know, I think I’m kinda lost.”

“Aren’t we all.”

“Huh? Watcha say?”

“Nothing. Nevermind it, Drifter. It’s Drifter, right? So you say you’re lost. Why don’t you stay here awhile until you figure out where you’re really headed. I can really use some company, you know.”

“Yah want me to stay? Yay! ‘Course I will, I got no place else to go anyways. Yar place here is cool! Yar alone here, huh? Uh…hey..uh..yah still gonna eat that apple?”

He answered the boy with a questioning look. It wasn’t until Drifter grabbed the half-eaten apple on his hands that he realized he was holding the god-forsaken fruit all along. He smirked, then grabbed another fruit from the branch above him and tossed it to the grinning boy.

They sat under the shade of the tree for hours. No words were spoken. Both enjoying each other’s company in silence, the mere presence of the other proving that neither is alone….for now. Finally, he decided to break the ice.

“So how long do you plan on staying here?”

His question was met with silence. Although they weren’t sitting face to face he knew that Drifter had fallen asleep. Lips curving to a smile, he slowly shifted his position to check on the boy. The tranquil look on Drifter’s sleeping face stirred a feeling of warmth deep within him. Slowly, he reached out his right hand to touch the boy’s face. Inches from the intended skin contact, a butterfly unexpectedly landed on his index finger. Immediately he stopped his approach and stared at the bug that caused the distraction. A welcome distraction, he mentally corrected himself.

From a third person point of view his facial expression looked funny. His lips slightly pouting, eyes are crossed due to intent staring, and eyebrows knitted closely. Entirely, his face was in a weird frown. If looks could kill, the poor bug would’ve been rotting by now. Although his stare was technically venomous, it was actually one of deep fascination. Fascination, that something as small as a butterfly was capable of holding such unfathomable beauty. Forever etched on its wings, the wonderful colors of life. The way it gracefully flaps its wings signifying the gentleness of nature. But just as quickly as it appeared, the butterfly was suddenly out of sight leaving his fixed gaze directly on Drifter’s sleeping form. He decided to pursue his hand’s intentions once again but was cut short when Drifter stirred in his sleep, as if dreaming. . .[/size]

[saladfingers]

[Drifter’s POV:]

He was tired, worn-out beyond comprehension – body and soul. His small limbs trembled, he wanted so bad to close his eyes and seek temporary comfort in sleep. But he dared not move a muscle, he was too afraid to even breathe. He knew exactly what he would see once he allowed his weary eyelids to shut. The tragedy that still grips his entire being would replay itself again, consuming a part of him every single time. But he couldn’t fight fatigue no longer, and deep within him he also wanted to remember. He cherished the pain the memories of her brought, it may sound crazy to others, but at least this way, he would still remember. And so with breath held he slowly closed his eyes. The floodgates of his memories opened, releasing the terror he hated but wanted to witness. Slowly her face appeared. Despite the blood and grime, her image remained serene, almost godly. Forever etched into his memories every detail of his mother’s face, together with the words she was about to speak…

"I'll have to leave you," she whispered, barely holding back her own tears. "But only for a little while. You'll have to stay here, don't make a sound. I love you. ” Moments later sounds of gunshots pierced through the night. He never saw her again…<br>
I awoke with a start, the nightmare still fresh on my mind. My hands were trembling. I press hard on my temples, desperate to erase any trace of that memory. I started to sit but I stopped midway when somebody spoke.

“I’m sorry did I wake you? I was just trying to check if you were okay.”

It took a full minute for me to remember where I was. Then it came back to me who the man in front of me was. He was still a mystery to me, an odd ball like most would say. His cheeks sunken, his skin an ashen shade and his voice coarse and hollow. But above all it was his eyes that spoke volumes, it held so much emotions. I wasn’t sure if it was gray or blue, it was difficult to tell when his hair hides his eyes.

“No, yah didn’t wake me up, I did it by myself. No, it was that dream again that woke me up. I..I..am sorry I’m just scared..”

I hate to admit fear. I know that I shouldn’t allow this man to see me so vulnerable, but I was scared. Deeply scared. I had that same dream for many nights now. I don’t know what to make of it. I just feel so alone. I miss her. I just want to hear her voice again. I want to hear her say that everything’s okay. I need to feel her with me. I need her presence to assure me that I’m not alone.

“Oh you had a nightmare. Wh..what was it about? I know it uh would be difficult for you to tell me but I need you to, so that I can… I can help you. Don’t be scared I’m here.”

“Reliving a nightmare accomplishes nothing. It just deepens the wounds. So don’t go assuming that you can help me. Nobody can! Besides, it appears to me that you need help more than I do.”

The look on the man’s face was priceless. Though I wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that I turned his offer down so rudely or from the shift in my speech. I was too beat to notice that I’ve so carelessly dropped my act. It was pointless anyway, coz eventually he’d notice. I consider it necessary to pretend – to speak like most of the kids my age, hoping I’d blend in well. I can’t afford to be deemed different, it cost my mother’s life. In this world to be different is a curse.

[Normal POV:]

The pain on the boy’s eyes was unmistakable. Although I knew he tried so hard to sound as stern as possible, his voice quavered -- sadness evident in his tone. I don’t know exactly how, but suddenly it’s as if I could feel the boy’s pain. There he was cradling his head between his knees, hugging his legs and rocking back and forth. His was a broken soul, numb with pain. For a second he looked apologetic. Maybe because he thinks that I was offended. In actuality I was far from it. I pity him more. His situation is all too familiar for me. I know he sees a need to project a tough exterior so as to cover his frail soul. The only thing he thinks he’s good at is driving people away. I can sense guilt all through out of him, it seems that he feels he’s unworthy to still be breathing today. He may have lost a loved one and he still can’t get over his lose wishing that it was him who died instead. I can read the boy like an open book. It’s as if I’ve lived his life myself.

“Reliving a nightmare accomplishes nothing. It just deepens the wounds. So don’t go assuming that you can help me. Nobody can! Besides, it appears to me that you need help more than I do.”

I repeated his words in my head. He sure is smart for his age. Am I that obvious or is he just too perceptive? Either way, I guess I do really need help, though I’m not sure if my wavering soul could still be remedied. I’ve seen too much, heard too much, could I still be saved? I’m too far down, nowhere near anybody’s reach.

ToBeCon't. . .

[saladfingers]

A/N:

Yup, this is the part where you get your shotguns and fire at me mercilessly. I seriously can't find the time to continue this story. I suck at making long stories and the reason why I even started writing this one is beyond me. I was just super-mega-bored, I guess. I've really been wanting to make the 3rd chapter but everytime I try to, my ideas just get all jumbled and I end up making an entirely different story, thus Cry in the Dark will (possibly) forever be in hiatus.

I exactly know what I want my ending to be, it's the in-between scenes I'm having a difficult time with. The hot weather's not helping matters either. The above chapters aren't even furnished yet, I've still got some editing to do. I plan to shift point-of-views and make the story entirely personal, which is additonal work syempre. And I personally think, that this story is overly descriptive. There are several scenes that I can't decide whether they are revelant or not. So yeah, your comments would really help. Thanks.

[tEchNY|koLouR|gEek]

this time mahaba na.. ill find some time to read this...

[saladfingers]

I'm bored kaya ako nalang magki-critique sa work ko, ayaw niyo naman kasi eh. Besides, wala na rin naman akong balak akong tapusin yung story. Ok here goes:

- Overly descriptive. Nung binasa ko siya ulit, nakakabadtrip pala yung story. There are so many irrelevant scenes. What the hell was I thinking tsk

- Plot is almost non-existent. I know that I've said that I have a particular ending in mind but if I were to pretend to be a reader hindi ko maiintindihan yung story, ang gulo. Tapos wala pang specific time lines. Tsk tsk

- Characters' introduction not properly established. Nuff said

- Inshort, ang gulo ng kwento!

Ang boring naman dito. . . huhuhu. Gagawa nalang nga ulit ako ng bagong story, I'll make it shorter though.