Shimmer - Things that live on the edge of dark
She’s been confident in the dark since high school. Knows what hides in the shadows, knows how to kill what jumps out.
But you can be confident without being comfortable, and she’s always reached toward the light.
Always reached - until now.
Now the light hurt her eyes, made her head ache. Happy chatter made her tense, laughter put her at the edge of screaming.
So she avoided the light, dodged her friends. Evaded talking, ran from laughter.
Stayed in the dark.
From the dark, she could see the light. But she stayed to the shadows.
She walks through the dark as if there’s nothing there that frightens her, as if she doesn’t know what hides there.
Acts confident, acts comfortable. Cringes from the light.
She used to shimmer, even in the dark. Caught the slightest bit of light there was, caught it and reflected it back on the world, bright as carnival lights.
But the carnivals gone dim, and so has she.
She stays to the shadows now, stays to the shadows like she’s one of the things slouching there. Stays there like she’s hunting, and perhaps she is. Not hunting demons any longer though.
Now she hunts death.
And so I walk behind her, beside her when she lets me, keeping her one step ahead of death, herding her closer to the light.
Waiting to see the shimmer again, but loving her, even in the dark.