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and you sit on your age-old rocking chair, remembering warm places of the past
constantly moving back and forth, back and forth
backwards into the twilight that almost surrounds you
forward towards your warm antique fireplace
a mellow mood starts to develop inside you, as you watch the flames play joyfully
painting bright thin cathedrals on the square canvas of the fireplace
while gently moving back and forth, back and forth
dusty images of younger years start to fill you, soft beige shapes caress your thoughts
and make you feel warm and comfortable, like embracing a giant teddy bear
you remember your mother's yellow smell and you smile
a quick flash and you start to feel that something is missing
but you are slowly moving back and forth, back and forth
then you remember a blue holiday spend at the sea
you can almost smell the wet sand castle rising on the lonely beach
and hear the red crabs running awkwardly on the white sand
when all of a sudden you hear a loud noise, high above you on the rooftop
you listen carefully, now wide awake
but still slowly and constantly moving back and forth, back and forth
something awfully big and heavy begins to fall loudly through the chimney
and you instantly remember lost parts of your childhood
darkness falls and the fire helplessly disappears
a strange dark shadow, filled with free-floating gray ash, creeps out of the fireplace
your entire being is frozen but you are moving back and forth, back and forth
the shadow begins to spread towards you like it was feeling the air with dark tentacles
in it you can barely see a fire of a different kind
two static red dots, laser-like in appearance, stare at you
and now you fully remember that awful night
suddenly darkness jumps towards you
a broken scream is heard
the age-old rocking chair is still slowly moving back and forth, back and forth
surrounded by complete darkness
and empty

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The following comments are for "Complete darkness"
by Paradox

to begin with
the false comfort of the perpetual motion of the rocking chair put me in mind of Beckett's "Rockaby", not a bad thing, 'cause it's one of my favourites... but then it moved, shifted pace, from something unsettling and eerily symbolic, to a richer, more gothic scene, that reminds of Poe, perhaps Lovecraft in theme, but in composition is all your own… I think the style of direct address adds to the discomfort here, making the reader centre of the tale, rather than a casual observer… thoroughly enjoyed this, but wouldn’t have minded seeing t presented as a dramatic monologue or even a piece of flash fiction… not easy to categorise, which is, I think, part of why it succeeds. good stuff.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: January 3, 2008 )

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