Within the Darkness

By GS Kimbro

I sat in a small restaurant, whose name escapes me at the moment. I was at a small table with my chair facing the door. As I glance up from my dinner, the door opens and in she walks. She stops for a minute letting her eyes adjust to the dim light of the quaint cozy eatery. I try to meet her gaze but her face is shrouded in shadow, as if the lights had dimmed just for her. Standing at a slightly skewed angle, she surveys the room, her head methodically turning. No one else seems to notice her, and I have sudden thoughts that maybe I’ve had a little too much to drink. “No, that can’t be it,” I think to my self, “I haven’t had that much.” Finishing her subtle assessment of the room and its inhabitants she nods to herself and mumbles something faint. Although only a few brief moments have passed since my eyes first fell upon this mysterious creature, I feel as if I have been observing her for a lifetime or more. Moving with an unearthly grace, like liquid in motion, she glides to a corner table and takes a seat in a dark recess, her face still concealed by a veil of shadows.

I sit back and consider this strange visitor. Even though I try to dismiss her as just another patron of this place, I find that my thoughts continue to drift back to her. As I sit and ponder, a waiter approaches her table. After a hushed conversation he returns bearing a glass of blood red wine in a fluted goblet. The waiter sets the wondrous looking object down and seems to franticly retreat from the table. Why he does this, I do not know. Tall though she might be, she is not very large, no quite the opposite. Her strength appears to be more of a lean and supple kind. A steel cable as opposed to an iron bar. Something about her though has frightened this brave and obviously robust man. I know that if I don’t at least see her close up for myself, that I will drive myself to insanity.

Gathering my will and taking a swig of my libation to fortify myself, I step up from my seat and stride over to where she is sitting. As I approach I am finally aware of her clothing. Her attire is thus: a form fitting pair of black leather pants streaked with crimson and a flowing black shirt with a vest the color of wrought iron. Over this is a voluminous black and silver coat, with swirling designs that seem to be entwined around one another in an endless dance of light and dark. Tied around her neck is a crimson and black scarf, the red is the color of fresh blood and the black is deeper than the pits of hell. I feel that no words known to mortal men could describe what I saw. As my gaze swept upward I struggled to think of words of introduction that might render me humorous or perhaps charming to this enigmatic women. I have reached the bottom of her face and I feel the words come to me.

At last I meet her eyes, and all feeling vanishes from my being. What I see in those soulless pits of blackness has no place in this world. Those eyes are deeper than the deepest abyss, black as the inside of a tomb, and more devoid of emotion than the dark expanse of space. In those eyes I see the death of the world and the end of all that is good. It is at this moment that I feel true terror for the first time, my face drains of all color and I gain the pallor of a vampire’s victim. Truly no vampire or ghost could sap the strength from a person as fast as that hell spawned lady of darkness. I lack even the strength to fall away, I cannot break from the terrible gaze that holds me in sway. She binds me to her in a way that has no description. I want to scream but my throat is frozen with terror. I want to run but my legs will not respond. I seek only to look away, but my own eyes betray me. All sound has vanished from the room. A deathly cold sweeps through, and the lights go out. All that is left are those now glowing eyes, how they have gained a bright red hue I know not, of this foul enchantress. Like a succubus who has snared her victim, so does this creature enmesh me in her oily tendrils of corruption and suffering. I begin to sway back and forth, I feel my body lose all coordination and balance. Finally I fall to the floor, the wood grain rushes up to meet my face, but in the wood I see her face leering at me, I can’t stop myself, I’m going to plunge right into it…

“Owwwww” I remark as my face smacks down on the table in front of me. I raise my head and shake off the stupor that envelops me. Looking around the restaurant, I see no woman at the corner table, not even a woman by the door.

“I’ve got to lay off the booze,” I remark to myself.

It is then that I notice the red and black scarf lying next to my glass on the table. All I need is one look, I drop a ten dollar bill down on the table and rush out the door. As I leave, all I can hear is the sound of maniacal laughter mocking me as I flee for the safety of a nearby church. I hope the doors are still open.

I flee quickly through the dark night, my thoughts only on the safety and sanctity of the church in the distance. Though in truth it lays but a few short blocks from my current location, it seems that the distance is many times that like it is a void incapable of being crossed. The dark stones of the street seem even darker, as if they have suddenly gained a much more sinister appearance, whether this is a trick of the night that even now envelops me like a cloak, or simply the result of to much liquor, I know not. I know only terror, deep and unexplainable, I turn to glance behind me but see nothing. Yet there is something different about the very air, I glance around and see the shadows take on a life of their own, swirling in mystifying patterns that leave me temporarily entranced. Shaking off the enchantment that grips me, I turn my thoughts back to the task at hand. For though I have left that fiendish visage behind me, I still see traces of it leering at me from the shadows. The church is nearer now, but I start to stagger, as if movement itself is a challenge, I feel my strength leaving my body as I strive to reach the sanctuary of those hallowed walls and the safety that they offer.

All thoughts of safety vanish as my foot strikes a loose cobblestone and I stumbled to the hard ground. Surprisingly I feel no pain as my body strikes the solid stone of the roadway, in fact I feel nothing at all. Somehow it all feels surreal, like I am witnessing the event from another place. Strange it is that I no longer have any control over my own body. Then I hear it, that same mocking laugh that will forever be ringing in my ears, it comforts me even as it damns me, for in it’s embrace I know no pain but also no hope. It envelops me and holds me in its power and I am helpless to resist it. Out of the blackness I once again see her face, that same leering face, those same soulless eyes boring into my mind, devouring everything it touches, destroying any notions of security I had ever possessed. My entire being is laid bare before the foul demon.

Though this inquisition lasted only a few brief moments, it was like being trapped for an eternity in a block of ice. I am cold, alone, and utterly helpless with no hope for anything, calling out for succor and hearing only the contemptuous laugh of my tormenter.

As quick as suddenly as it started so does it end, I know not why I have been so targeted by the forces of evil and darkness, nothing I have knowledge of has any bearing on anything that could possibly be of interest to those depraved and pitiless fiends. Perhaps there is no answer and it is only their overriding love of cruelty that drives them to commit acts such as this, whatever the answer I know it not, nor do I care overmuch. For in knowing what drives these forces to their foul deeds would require letting some of what inhabits there twisted and embittered souls into my own, and that is something that I must never allow to happen. I will be thankful that my torment is over, or at least that is my hope, and give thanks that I was allowed to retain my soul and mind in working order. I’m thankful I was not left as a mindless babbling fool to be forever cursed to wallow in my misery till the day that mercy is finally granted.

I have retained my principles and my humanity, which is worth more than anything else in this world. And so it is that I return to that restaurant, night after night, not out of any desire to see that woman again, but to prove to her, should she return, that my will is stronger for having felt her cold embrace and that I shall not fall a second time. From my torment I have drawn strength and courage. I have stared into the face of death and lived to tell the tale. If she should ever show herself I would not cower in fear. If I ever see her again, let her beware.

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