I am one of that 11% of people afraid of the dark, and that is only due to the fact that I have lived it all my life.
I was not born into a family who placed me within the soil and watered me and watched me grow. Oh no, I was planted, and meekly watered and hidden from the sun. Within the cavernous walls of a decaying basement, so I've been told.
My toddler years was when I first moved from that empty space down below and instead placed into an odd, black, quickly-moving machine with flashing lights and a horn that honked. We sped for quite some time, the grimy roads moving in blurs with us seemingly stationary. Just me and my mommy. It was a nice bonding experience~!
The crusty leather was a texture I've never felt before. It was much smoother than the scratchy walls that I've been thrown against countless times. Everything was so . . . new. The smells, the anxiety-ridden look my mother gave me from the reflection of the rear-view mirror, my first view of the setting sun.
Alas, we halted to a stop. I'm feeling peckish. It's getting dark. Mother pulled me out of the straps of the car seat, strangling me in the process. But I'm sure that was on accident. Mommy would never hurt me.
Large green monsters held by long dark brown sticks guarded wherever we were entering. That had long, brown spears sprouting from the trunk at all sides. It was scary, but mom dodged them like a superhero. She's saving me!
She threw me over her shoulder and sped through the woods. Boy, was she fast! She must have been an Olympic runner! I imagined mommy racing us to victory.
She tripped, I rolled off her shoulder. She grabbed my leg and dragged me across. It hurt.
But I cannot speak the gibberish language that she speaks, foreign sounds off the tip of her tongue. I can only speak with my whines, and groans, and cries. So I cried to tell her how I felt. She did not stop but sped up. Ow, mommy, ow!
Brown, long spears defeated in battle scratched me with their many sharp, pointy tips. Ow.
Mommy did not stop. But she started slowing down. Slowed down enough to where she was not moving anymore, but picking me back up and then throwing me back down onto those spears.
"Here you go, you little good for nothing."
"Here you go, you little good for nothing." ?
"Here you go, you little good for nothing." ? Sorry mommy, I don't speak your language.
She dusted off her hands and left me sitting there, in the dark. She walked away with a pride in her stride. Mommy? I reached for her, but my stumpy little arms could not go as far as she.
Hmph. I can't see anything, but I'm still hungry. Pinecones don't taste good. Neither do leaves.
Crawling around, I reach a furry little critter. He snarled, and foamed, and raved through barks. Daddy? No, daddy was not as fuzzy as this thing. But he was always as angry as this was!
Pinecones and leaves did not taste good to me, But I tasted good to that snarling wolf.
Dark was all around me through the short remainder of my life.
In the womb,
In the womb, In the basement,
In the womb, In the basement, In the car,
In the womb, In the basement, In the car, In the forest,
In the womb, In the basement, In the car, In the forest, In the wolf's digestive track.