Week 19: John Charles- Addiction & Recovery

Full Prompt: “Addiction and recovery”

Story:

::clang::

::clang::

::clang::

The large, hand-forged brass bell startled him. But it was a familiar sound, it indicated the end. Yet again. He pressed his hands into the wood, taking all of his considerable weight into his upper arms and shoulders. He rose from his seat. He tossed a handful of money down. His foot caught the threshold as he crossed it causing him to take notice of the cobblestones. They were wet. The massive wooden door closed behind him with a gentle thud. He turned to look at the thing, from bottom to top, a door he knew all too well. “Behemoth,” he thought, lingering for a moment before he turned up his collar and began to walk. 

The glisten of the cobblestones flickered across his irises, perhaps informing his decision, it's hard to know with any certainty. He nodded toward his few companions as they parted; made their ways in respective directions. After a few yards he reached the spot at which he should turn right, but paused. Hands in fists in his pockets he contemplated briefly. He went left. Tonight was the same as the rest, but it was different all the same. 

After a short while he stood still in the grass, it glistened too. It was also damp. He thought for what he perceived as just a moment but in actuality it was something closer to half of an hour. When he moved the boards creaked under the weight of him. One plank at a time he propelled his frame forward. Shoulders sunk, head dropped, he watched each of his deliberate footsteps supplant the other. He noticed the darkness all around him, the darkness of the night. It had been there this whole time, unnoticed until now.

::splash::

He was now damp as well. Wet. Soaked. The water enveloped him as he sank lower and lower. It was only because he had previously taken note of the darkness that he knew he was now in complete darkness. Nothing was visible below him. He let it and the cold embrace him. As his oxygen began to wane, the cold turned to warmth. He allowed that as well. He swiveled his pointless gaze from below to perpendicular with his body. Small glistening particles danced across his eye-line. How similar, he thought, to the glisten of the cobblestone and grass. Aside from these tiny flecks, bleary darkness crept in all around. His core temperature dropped one degree after another. He welcomed it. As he continued to sink, his head raised toward the surface. He wondered why… he didn’t miss it. Maybe it was for one final glance. As he questioned this very thing another kind of shiny thing caught his eye. It was a peculiar shape. Before he knew it, curiosity got the better of him.

::GASP::

Involuntarily he took into his lungs the fullness of oxygen they would allow. 

“Huh,” he breathed out as he realized the peculiar sparkle was just the moon. But JUST the moon, he thought. “Just… the moon…” he stated in awe. It was a crescent moon and for the life of him he could not remember why the moon had phases. “What eclipses the moon at night?” Was the only thing he could think as the other 80% of its spherical shape was still visible, though barely. 

Suddenly he was looking at the entire majesty of the night sky. Thousands of twinkling stars. A hundred colors of black and blue intertwined, fading into and out of one another. Gravity-defying clouds dancing across the whole thing just as the flecks of light had sparkled across his sight all evening. And the moon. Its crescent shape demanding respect, carving the heavens into geometric shape. Glowing. Beaming. A silver sliver. A sole, silver sliver so beautiful… so impactful. The smallest version of the moon. The tiniest of itself it could be, but still so intrinsically important to all of life on the entire planet of earth. Now he noticed another glistening thing, though he could not see it. His eyes welled. 

He could no longer remember why he had jumped in. Not remember why he had let himself sink so low; why he had felt okay so short of oxygen… of life. 

“This.” He said aloud. To himself. To anyone and anything that could hear him. 

“This.” He repeated.

“THIS!” He shouted before breaking into gleeful laughter, which quickly faded into tears of remorse, only to give way to tears of joy. 

“I can’t waste this.” He whispered. 

He fell to his back and floated atop the water, basking in the light of the darkness.