Light

It's dark. There’s a bedroom light switch on the wall by my bed. I flick the switch on. Nothing happens. I switch it off and then on again. Still nothing. I then do it for a third time even though I now know it will not work. It’s a reflex action really, perhaps down to the frustration or the sudden sense of discomfort that a lack of expected light when in the dark brings, even though that discomfort wasn’t there a moment earlier, in the same dark.  Expectation, which is of itself, nothing but a thought, can quickly take you to a physical reality, with physical sensations, both good and bad. I wait for a moment, in the dark, the early waking brain takes a moment to get itself together for most things, particularly things that are not part of a regular routine. Or expected, perhaps.

I have the briefest deja vu sensation, something feels familar, like I've already been here, but it fades into the darkness. I raise myself up onto my elbows hoping my eyes will adjust to the darkness as I look around.

There is a digital speaker with a clock on the bedside table next to me, but I cannot see it, no glowing numbers telling me the time. I know it had space for batteries as a backup but I never put them in. I’m expecting my eyes to adjust a little but it is still almost pitch dark. Expectation again. I fumble around on the table and find my watch. It’s an analogue watch, but the hands glow in the dark and I can just make them out. It is a little after 3am. I manage to shuffle from my bed to the bedroom door without bumping into anything. The light switch in the hall outside the bedroom isn’t working either, though I only try that one the customary two times, perhaps it is just that the sense of discomfort subsides as rational thought grapples for control.

I don’t mumble anything out loud, although in my head it sounds like am audible mumble.

It’s probably the fuse box.

I feel strange though, because somewhere in my head there seem to be a thousand other possibilities floating around. They are all ridiculous of course. It’s 3am, everything is ridiculous at 3am. 

Zombies seemed to be at the top of my list of possible reasons. A zombie apocalypse. The power went out as the engineers at the power stations were turned, as aircraft crashed into a nuclear power station, as cars and trucks ploughed through pylons, their drivers gripping at their throats as zombie blood coursed through them, taking them, turning them. As the world of the living began its abrupt and violent end. Maybe I was dreaming about zombies. I shake my head and feel silly.

I watch a lot of television. TV shows, movies, you name it. I’ve watched a fair few Zombie related shows, I guess some of these things stick. Perhaps one of them had a scene with someone in their underwear, in the middle of the night, trying to find their way to the bathroom in the dark, the lights are not working. I don’t know about that, but I guess it’s possible. I’ve watched a lot of hitmen shows too, and gangster movies but I don’t think it’s a hitman or the mob. I think it’s the fuse box. I guess the brain has woken up.

There are two rooms along the corridor, the first one is the bathroom, the next is a spare bedroom. They are both on my left. There are no windows, although there is a sky light high up in the hallway ceiling. It’s dark though, outside and inside, so I can’t see it. Does that mean the power is off outside too? I can’t remember if I can usually see any light at night through it. Maybe when there is a full moon. There isn’t a moon though, well, I'm sure there is, but it is not visible, not now. I feel my way along the walls, pause briefly by the bathroom door but continue on. It’s too dark to use the bathroom, or I’m too nervous to go now, I’m not sure which, but I decide I need to find a torch. Get some light in here. There’s one in the kitchen, or possibly one by the front door in the cupboard. I’m sure I keep one somewhere like that. Unless I used one for something recently and didn’t put it back, but I don’t recall, so I figured I may as well check the hall first, it’s nearer, then sort the fuse box. It’s got to be the fuse box.

Sounds seem much louder at night, when the world is asleep. I’m grateful that I live in a well-built apartment, twenty floors up, right at the top. There’s no creaking or groaning like you might get in a house. The only sound I can hear is my bare feet on the hard floor, my breathing and perhaps the faintest beat of my heart. I assume it’s because the apartment is well built anyway, because when I stop moving, there is nothing but my breathing, in and out, and the beat of my heart. I hold my breath for a moment, I don’t really know why, I think I saw it in a film about a sniper once, hiding from an enemy search party. Now I just hear my faint rhythmic heartbeat. Nothing else.

Not hearing anything unusual should be calming, but it’s not. It’s so quiet. Silence is deafening they say and this is never more true than now. Hearing your own heartbeat should be reassuring, it means you are alive, but it’s quite a strange organic sound, yet mechanical and almost too regular, it seems somehow incongruous with the seemingly random chaos and irregularity of life in many ways. Badum, badum, badum. Nothing else. Thinking about it seems to have made it speed up. I start breathing again, and decide to move on.

The spare bedroom door is closed. I usually keep it closed, no particular reason, just seems sensible when I have no need to go in there and nobody is staying over. I do have guests sometimes, just not very often. There’s nobody staying tonight. I consider opening it to check, but dismiss the idea, almost immediately. Check what? The background of my mind starts swirling up images of zombies again and at least one, I think it was possibly an Orc, like the big one in the Lord of the Rings stories. There is also the fleeting image of a bald, black clad shadowy figure holding a gun with one of those suppressor things on it. But then those thoughts are gone as quickly as they came. I don’t open the door. No need/Just in case. 

The hallway opens up into the main hall and an archway into the open planned living room and kitchen further ahead. You wouldn’t know that if you’d never been there, it’s too dark to see anything much beyond an arm’s reach. I slowly move across the hallway to the other wall and then continue, my hands feeling their way along the wall. There's a picture hanging on the wall somewhere here and a small table with a drawer. I edge along slowly, trying to feel for them. My knee finds the table just as my left hand finds the picture frame. The table moves a little, wood scraping on wood, it’s not loud, at least not usually, but it sounds deafening in the silence, in the dark. The picture frame doesn’t move thankfully, so I place my hand on the other side of it, against the wall and sort of tiptoe around the table. 

It’s probably two meters from the table to the main hallway and another two to the living room door. It’s funny, I walk it many times most days but now it’s pitch black, I don’t really know, it could be two, or four perhaps. I’m not really sure. I think there is another light switch and possibly a plug socket beneath that, just before the corner. I can’t remember. That seems odd, because I would use the light switch most nights, but now I can’t be certain there is one, or at least if there is, where it is. I decided to try and be more observant in the future. 

If there is a future.

What a strange thing to think. Of course there is, tomorrow I’ll pay more attention to my surroundings. I take a deep breath, it helps to focus sometimes. It takes my mind off of the awkwardness of the situation and certainly the zombies and hitmen. I shuffle along.

I reach the end of the hallway, my left hand grips the corner of the wall where it opens out into the main hall and front door to the right and the living room, straight ahead. Or is it slightly off to the left? It feels off that I’m not entirely aware of my own place, I’ve live here for almost three years. There is the slightest hint of light here, I think it’s coming from the windows on the other side of the living room and kitchen, but the blinds are down and the curtains drawn, so it’s little more than the idea of light in the near dark. Shadows of shadows, the more I try to look for things the less I can see them. My right hand brushes across something on the wall, it’s the light switch, I knew there was one here somewhere. Well, I almost knew. I’m about to press the switch, to see if perhaps only some of the power is out but stop. For a second I don’t know why, perhaps it’s that I know it won’t work, perhaps it’s because I’m suddenly nervous about what will happen if it does work, which is completely irrational. But I wait, my finger resting on the switch. Just press it! I nearly do, but still don’t. 

It occurs to me now that perhaps I’m not standing here in my shorts in the dark, heart beating a little too fast, brain talking to itself about fuse boxes and zombie killers. Maybe I’m in bed, maybe this is just a dream, that would explain things. Dreams are usually bizarre and irrational. I decide to try pinching myself, I recall hearing somewhere, or maybe reading somewhere, that if you pinch yourself it’s a good way to be sure that you’re awake and what you are experiencing is actually happening. I reach down and pinch the back of my left leg just below my shorts. It hurts slightly, that’s all. I don’t wake up in bed, in fact nothing happens at all. I feel silly again.

“Definitely awake then” 

The voice seems both distant and near. It’s not a menacing voice, certainly not the sort of voice a zombie would have and I can’t imagine many hitmen announce themselves in that way. It sounds familiar, in fact it sounds a bit like me, but I didn’t say anything.

Why have I not panicked? I should really panic. 

My finger is still resting against the light switch. 

“Dark isn’t it?” The voice says again. It seems a little further away, and closer.

Do I want light now? Do I want to see what I can hear? 

“Seeing is believing”, the voice is more of a whisper now, but not a sinister one. I can’t really tell where it came from. 

My finger presses down slightly, the little switch moves a little under the pressure.

“CLICK!”, the voice was louder this time and very close. A low chuckle followed the word.

I jump, my hand comes away from the light switch which remains in the off position. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself”, the voice is quieter again, but not quite a whisper, more the level you might use when discussing something private with someone when others are nearby.

I feel around the wall again, finding the light switch, placing my finger back onto the little button.

“If I turn this light on, are you going to hurt me?”, I say, still a little confused as to why I’m not freaking out.

“If you like”, the voice says. It sounded almost indifferent.

“I’d rather you didn’t”, I say, finger still poised, but the light switch and the lights are still very much off.

“Me too”, the voice remains passive, normal.

I press the light switch.

“For now” the voice whispers 

Before I have a chance to respond the voice continues.

“See you tomorrow, la la-la di di daaa, la la di di da da daa”, the voice says in a fading whisper as light floods my blurry vision and the sound of Piano Man by Billy Joel creeps in to replace it.

I’m in bed, sun light is finding little gaps in the blinds of my bedroom window and streaming, laser-like, down to my face. The room is gloomy but the beads of light are bright, too bright. I squint away and I glance to my left, at my little bedside table upon which is a speaker with a built in digital clock. It’s six thirty in the morning. Billy Joel is hitting his stride, it’s a great song, although I can’t pretend I’ve ever taken the time to understand what it is about.

I crawl out from under the covers. I yawn and then stretch, I ache a little, actually I ache a lot, all over. As I stand, I feel a little unsteady for a moment, my left leg tingles, my knee hurts. Cramp I imagine, probably from a rather disturbed night’s sleep. I decide a shower is probably the priority, coffee and breakfast don’t appeal.

As I shuffle, still yawning, I glance at the door to my bedroom. It’s open, not by much, but just ajar. I can’t swear I closed it, I sometimes don’t, but I usually do when I go to bed, but it makes me curious all the same. I decide that a shower can wait, for a moment. 

I open the door a little and peer into the hallway. It’s quite dark, but there is light emitting from the living room and kitchen, as well as the skylight high up in the ceiling. Ok, so that’s good. That’s as expected. The bathroom door is open, again, not much, but that’s okay, as I could easily leave it ajar. The spare room door is closed, the end of the hallway, living room archway, which is directly in front of the hallway and then to the right will be the main hall, front door. I ache more now, yawn again and feel tired. It really wasn’t a good night’s sleep. I walk slowly down the hallway, past the bathroom and spare room doors, along the corridor and to the corner. In front of me I can see the living room, light filtering through from the kitchen area and from here, unseen blinds that I leave mostly tilted closed but not quite fully, morning light filtering through the gaps. As I glance beyond the corner of the corridor I can see the front door, which I’m pleased to see is closed, and locked. 

I glance at the wall lights. They’re off. I look at the switch that I’d imagined pressing. It’s off.

I shake my head as I turn and head back to my bedroom door. It’s almost hard work now, my leg is aching, my head feels heavy, almost like a cold coming on. But I still manage a smile.

Dreams are strange things, occupying a space between reality and fantasy that takes a while for the waking mind to assemble. 

I get to the bathroom door, I’m feeling tired and the aches persist but I’m sure a shower will help, so I open the door. Light floods the hallway, and I shield my face from it, cowering away almost as the brightness of the room streams in. The bathroom blinds are up and the sun beyond the frosted glass window is illuminating the bath, walk in shower and tiled walls. Lightly holding the door frame with one hand and shielding my slowly adjusting eyes with the other I enter and move to the wash basin, and glance at the mirror. My reflection looks back at me, bleary eyed, hair ruffled and out of place. 

I look tired. I look awful.

“Take a shower, it’s got to help”, I say to myself in the mirror.

“I don’t think it will”, my reflection says back to me, a tear rolls down my reflected cheek. 

I take a step back, as I reach up to feel there are no tears on my face. My reflection hasn’t moved, he, I, am just standing there, staring back at me. Another tear makes its way down the other reflected cheek. I step back again, away from the mirror, a sense of fear, pr perhaps panic returning, my heel catches the edge of the shower tray and I slip, catching the back of my head on the wall as I go down.

It hurts. But not as much as it does when I land on my back and I catch my head a second time, on the raised tiled corner of the step up to the bath. I briefly see stars, sense a warm feeling around the back of my head and then everything starts to fade. I almost welcome it, the fading light and oncoming darkness. Not because I’m tired, although I am, but because as the light fades, so does the pain. Within seconds I don’t feel any pain, or fear, just a sense of calm flowing over me, similar to the moment before you fall asleep.

“The dark is not so bad after all is it?”, I hear a voice like mine say, but it’s faint, and drifts away.  

It's dark. There’s a bedroom light switch on the wall by my bed. I flick the switch on. Nothing happens...