December 9, 2013 Comments Off on Mole in The Dark by Michael White
A mole man stands within a tunnel betwixt two entrances to darkness. On either side of him runs a long gravel road, which extends throughout the tunnel. It is littered with remnants from a future’s past — with the debris and propaganda of his subliminal night contained.
The mole man looks to both ends. A light dangles over him like a crown, and this crown leaves his visions distorted: darkness becomes darker; debris becomes refuge; and his ends become one and the same. He takes a step eastward — for a thick breeze blows from therein — then stops. His nostrils widen. His ears wiggle. And his eyelids block the darkness with darkness while familiar smells of home fill his air. Home. Grime. Brother. Death. Escape.
The mole man turns his head away from the stench of the eastward breeze, whereupon he sees another man — a masked man coming from the west. And by neither demonic nor angelic decree, the suited shadow continues forward, step by sullen step, until he is but a trio of palms before his narrowed man in need.
“Come,” he says with an upturned hand.
“I don’t want to leave yet.”
“You cannot go back the other way.”
“But I can stay here.”
“Do you refuse me out of fear?”
“No. I am comfortable here. It is quiet and dark and one grows used to the gravel of the road.”
“Do you refuse me out of regret?”
“No. Every man regrets. Some are even lucky enough to be born out of one.”
“Then why do you refuse me?”
“I refuse you because this is all a failed joke and I have committed myself to playing it until its end.”
“And when does it end?”
“Only after my final period strikes.”
The masked man departed and left his brethren so.
© 2013 Michael White
Originally from Chicago, IL, Michael White is a current full-time student at Full Sail University in Winter Park, FL. He is working toward his bachelor’s degree in Creative Writing for Entertainment.