Fear of the Dark

Nightmares of deep darkness had become the most vivid ever as the months dragged on. Resigned to the overwhelming dread she felt every night before she closed her eyes, only one thought comforted her—perhaps when dragged into the darkness, completely swallowed by black, unable to move or hear, the cold she feared more than anything would finally take her. But alas, she would open her eyes yet again into a new dawn, live a meaningless day, and repeat.

As her time slowly passed in the long-term care facility, she felt less and less until one day she looked into the mirror and knew the being staring back at her was wrong. Something important was missing. Her life’s purpose? A vitality? Thea couldn’t grasp what it was—she could not remember the forgotten and only saw shadows of what might be. It had been ten years since her terrible accident, leaving her mind in disarray and her memories of before in utter black. With no family to claim her, Thea lived a solitarily dismal existence, only made bearable by the gardens in the facility, but even they were slowly fading.

Strange things occurred in the world she watched pass by her; people spoke of the end times as the sun seemed to grow colder by the year. Days grew shorter, lush green turned to brown, and even the animals became unnatural in their behavior. Talk of the medical facility closing murmured through the halls, but Thea was not scared by the growing instability of the world. She feared only the silence of the blackest of nights, the nothingness of the abyss. She couldn’t explain how she knew, but it was only a matter of time before the world was swallowed by darkness. Perhaps then she might finally be free of the fears that haunted her.

As the world seemed to collapse around her, Thea herself had become an anomaly within the walls of the institution, and like a lingering calamity, abnormal activity followed her. At times her deep thought caused lights to flicker or objects to move. Once, when she had become overly concerned with the safety of a hummingbird fighting for its life, fire spontaneously combusted. While Thea was always at the center of strange happenings, they never frightened her. However, such events had long-since ostracized her in the ward, and the other long-term patients eventually shied away for good. Only a few nurses gathered up the courage to go near her, and only when necessary.

Whenever Thea felt lonely, she gazed into the garden from her room, which was more often than naught. There was a familiarity in the life and beauty of lush greenery, and the longer she stared into the flora, her mind seemed to clear, almost giving way to that veiled something—the answer she had sought all these long years. But just when she thought she could push aside the curtain, the something would vanish. Sometimes she smiled to herself, thinking, ‘Almost had it.’ Other times she would catch her reflection in the glass and be taken by surprise as though the face staring back was unfamiliar.

“Thea,” a nurse knocked at her open doorway while Thea blankly stared out the window into the garden. She turned and blinked a few times before realizing someone was standing before her. “Yes?”

“There’s someone claiming to know you. Would you agree to a visit?”

This marked the first time anyone had inquired after her, so her mind completely came into focus, and she stood waiting for the nurse to lead the way. She was led into a large room used for various activities—though she’d have preferred privacy, visitations would need monitoring. The nurse situated Thea next to the window overlooking the garden, and she stared outside to calm her nerves until the mysterious visitor was ushered in.

“Thea?”

An almost familiar voice called out to her, and she turned to see an older woman whose face was distorted with worry. Thea’s head cocked, curious why she looked so distressed at seeing her.

“Do I know you?”

The woman’s eyes closed as she tried to steel herself, but nodded her head in affirmation.

“It’s me, Millicent, your old teacher.” She hesitated before she settled on ‘teacher’.

Thea studied Millicent; her features were delicate but worn, as though she had known much sadness that weighed on her. Gray hairs speckled through a strawberry-blond bun and a wrinkled forehead, most likely from constant worry. No, Thea did not recognize her, but there was something gnawing at her mind.

“Miss Millicent, you say you know me, but you looked so troubled when you saw me. Why?”

Millicent sighed. She wasn’t sure she should say anything, but thought it best to be straightforward and honest. “You look different, that’s all.”

“Howso?”

“Oh, Thea, to answer that I would have to tell you everything from the beginning. Please say you remember me, even just a little.”

Trying to control her desperation, she reached across the table and squeezed Thea’s hand, and while Thea wanted so much to remember the face before her, she felt uneasy and pulled away. Millicent’s eyes gazed upon Thea’s face, still young, but older than she had remembered her as, but she had lost her glow, the sparkle in her eyes, the things that made her ‘Thea’.

Thea shook her head. “I’m sorry, no…”

Millicent nearly broke into tears, and covering her eyes with her hand, she began speaking before thinking.

“You are the last hope. There’s an evil trying to consume everything, and we’ve done all we can to keep it at bay, but you, you are the strongest.”

Thea’s brow furrowed in confusion; she had no idea what this woman was spouting, but it was upsetting her.

“Can you not feel it—the world crying out? The balance has tipped, and there’s something lurking in the dark.”

Her interest piqued, “The dark?”

“Yes! In it exists more than shadows; there is a blackness that consumes, a void that swallows all life. Have you not felt an evil, dark presence in this world too?”

All at once, Thea’s mind brought her nightmares to the surface; there was something lurking, and it seemed to be trying to reach her—perhaps take her.

“All these years we tried holding it back, but everything we’ve done has ended in utter failure. We’ve only barely managed to escape after five bitter years of sacrifice, but it has already consumed our realm and has spilled into this one. I’m one of the few who lived...please, remember us, remember what you were trained to do.”

Thea’s mind was blank as she tried to make sense of Millicent’s words, and she couldn’t help but wonder.

“What am I trained to do?”

Millicent’s brow scrunched, then released as she exhaled deeply, trying to decide how best to summarize a lifetime of missing memories.

“In truth,” she began, “you were an orphan raised by the magic academy, and I was one of three responsible for rearing you.” She beamed proudly, “It was an honor and a pleasure; you were such a happy child. I never heard you speak a mean word to anyone, and you loved life, nature, everything that lived.”

Millicent lost herself for a moment, reminiscing about specific moments in her mind.

“But you were very mischievous and never followed the rules, always going to your own beat and dragging along poor…”

Her voice fell silent as she remembered why she was there.

“Our academy was the vanguard in higher magical studies, and those who graduated were trained with the skills to maintain balance in the world.”

Millicent waved her hand in the air, bringing to life a small, moving replica of the earth.

“All life hangs in a careful balance, and if that scale is tipped in the wrong direction, living beings could face a disastrous end.”

The earth replica cycled through worldly natural disasters as she spoke.

“It’s up to us to study phenomena, decipher the root cause, and use our powers to correct at the source.”

Millicent studied Thea’s reactions to her explanation, and it was clear it was all foreign to her. Still, she went on, hoping something would trigger a memory.

“We’ve studied this impending darkness for seven years and after trial and error, trying to find the root of it and failing, we came to the only conclusion that fits—there’s someone controlling the darkness, someone whose powers are too strong to fight back alone.”

She let that statement exist between them for a moment, searching Thea’s eyes for recognition—still nothing.

Millicent squeezed Thea’s hand again. “Thea, you...your powers are uniquely strong, and I believe with all my heart that your magic can save us. Please, please help us in our fight against the darkness.”

There was a strange peace that came with Millicent’s words; something rang true and resonated. As she had spoken, Thea studied her as much as listened to her story. While she felt no emotional connection, the pain in Millicent’s eyes touched her deeply. This woman claimed to be her maternal figure, and Thea was genuinely sorry that she couldn’t remember anything about her.

Ardently attempting to recall at least a minor detail about the woman who helped raise her, Thea closed her eyes and concentrated deeply . Clearing her thoughts, she kept Millicent’s face in her mind, reflecting on her story. Desperately trying to make a connection to her, the cups on the table began to shake, and the lights flickered. Everyone in the room fell silent as they wondered what catastrophe their unstable world would bring next. The windows vibrated, and the others quickly filtered out of the glass sunroom as Thea sat in deep concentration.

“Thea, your powers! Look, you are doing this.”

The windows shattered all around them, but not a single shard could enter their space. Thea’s eyes opened at the sound of glass exploding, witnessing Millicent create a barrier around them, bouncing the shards of glass away from them.

Excited that Thea had tapped into her magic, Millicent stood. “Come, I must take you away from here to somewhere safe.”

Millicent tried leading her away, but Thea remained rooted like a tree.

“I can’t go with you.”

Confused, Millicent paused and looked back at her. “But you won’t be safe here. You can’t even control your magic; how can you hope to protect yourself against him, let alone defeat this impending evil?”

Thea couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming wrongness; it hung in the air like a thick morning fog.

“I think,” she let go of Millicent’s hand, “I’m waiting for something.”

Millicent wanted with all her strength to force Thea along, but she knew better. She knew that expression too well from the child she had guided—Thea would not be persuaded.

“I’ll leave today, but will return to help you tap into your magic.” A few tears rolled down her face. “I won’t abandon you again.”

Millicent quickly turned to leave the room, and as she stepped through the doorway, her hand waved through the air, returning all the shards of glass to their original form. It was as if the windows had never been broken to begin with. And the most perplexing thing to Thea about Millicent’s fantastical display was that she wasn’t surprised at all.