to tell me, but I felt it again. It’s like when you’re walking into a dark room or down a dark street and you get that feeling that something is going to happen (even though it never does). That’s the feeling I get, like something bad is going to happen. Well, maybe not bad, but big. Big for sure.
I need to find a way to speak to the darkness, to hear what it has to say and tell it everything I’ve ever told you. I know it would listen, just like you do in these letters, just like you always have. And I know it would care for me like you seem to, it must worry about me, it must know how badly I need it. Do you think it needs me? Does it wonder where I’ve gone if I miss an eclipse?
Do I give it the same strength it gives me?
No.
That’s crazy.
The darkness has been coming and going for millions of years and will keep going for millions more after I’m dead.
It doesn’t care, not at all, just like everyone else.
Four minutes and eight seconds. Maybe I can get the truth out of it. I’ll make it talk, and I will listen.
SEPTEMBER 12, 2053
Lena,
It came with them, crawling the walls once more, endless ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking. They watched me for a while and I wasn’t sure what to do. I took my medication, I pretended they didn’t exist, but they just stayed there. They stared at me, sad marble eyes and tears of oil. I didn’t know what they wanted.
But they would be there when I woke up, they’d follow me throughout the house. They never bothered me, they just waited and watched, almost silent except for the occasional tick. And they watched. And they waited. And they watched. And then it came.
It came to the door one day, the end had begun before I even knew it. They sat there, all of them, thousands of eyes like glass staring at the solid wood door. I couldn’t see anything, I didn’t know who was there. I never get visitors, I don’t even have evangelists or salespeople knocking on the door.
It scared me but I finally walked up to answer it, their ticking stopped, wings didn’t flutter and my heart didn’t beat.
Then I saw him, staring at me from behind the threshold. It was like I was looking in the mirror, just one of those funhouse mirrors that distort the picture. I was seventeen again, but slimmer and less geeky looking, a better complexion and a smile that showed confidence I’ve never had. He looked me in the eye, my aged greying eyes, and spoke a word I never thought I would hear uttered in my direction.
“Dad.”
And the ticking started again, wings beats in a flurry and the buzzing began anew as they flew and crawled around the room triumphantly, as if cheering for me. Maybe they never meant me harm, maybe they were there for me… if I’d only taken the time to understand them.
But I have a son. She was pregnant when she left, and she never bothered to tell me. He’s seventeen now, almost a man, old enough to seek me out on his own—against her wishes.
What do I know about raising a child, or an adolescent? I’m seventy-four years old now. Odds are I won’t live long enough to see him become a father, I won’t be there to help him find his place in the world.
I’m so lost, Lena, I just don’t know what to do. Talking to you about it helped, a little, but it’s still so strange, so hard to understand. How could she have kept this from me all these years? Did she hate me that much?
He and I talked for a couple of hours, long enough for me to learn that he was a better man than I could ever be. We’ve met again a number of times and he seems to really be interested in getting to know me, another strange thing. It’s nice, to have someone to care about, someone who cares about me, and to see my own face in his. I never thought it possible and yet, it is.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I never would have believed it.
They’re with me now, sitting on my shoulders and fluttering around my head, waiting for the darkness to come. They need
I need to find a way to speak to the darkness, to hear what it has to say and tell it everything I’ve ever told you. I know it would listen, just like you do in these letters, just like you always have. And I know it would care for me like you seem to, it must worry about me, it must know how badly I need it. Do you think it needs me? Does it wonder where I’ve gone if I miss an eclipse?
Do I give it the same strength it gives me?
No.
That’s crazy.
The darkness has been coming and going for millions of years and will keep going for millions more after I’m dead.
It doesn’t care, not at all, just like everyone else.
Four minutes and eight seconds. Maybe I can get the truth out of it. I’ll make it talk, and I will listen.
SEPTEMBER 12, 2053
Lena,
It came with them, crawling the walls once more, endless ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking. They watched me for a while and I wasn’t sure what to do. I took my medication, I pretended they didn’t exist, but they just stayed there. They stared at me, sad marble eyes and tears of oil. I didn’t know what they wanted.
But they would be there when I woke up, they’d follow me throughout the house. They never bothered me, they just waited and watched, almost silent except for the occasional tick. And they watched. And they waited. And they watched. And then it came.
It came to the door one day, the end had begun before I even knew it. They sat there, all of them, thousands of eyes like glass staring at the solid wood door. I couldn’t see anything, I didn’t know who was there. I never get visitors, I don’t even have evangelists or salespeople knocking on the door.
It scared me but I finally walked up to answer it, their ticking stopped, wings didn’t flutter and my heart didn’t beat.
Then I saw him, staring at me from behind the threshold. It was like I was looking in the mirror, just one of those funhouse mirrors that distort the picture. I was seventeen again, but slimmer and less geeky looking, a better complexion and a smile that showed confidence I’ve never had. He looked me in the eye, my aged greying eyes, and spoke a word I never thought I would hear uttered in my direction.
“Dad.”
And the ticking started again, wings beats in a flurry and the buzzing began anew as they flew and crawled around the room triumphantly, as if cheering for me. Maybe they never meant me harm, maybe they were there for me… if I’d only taken the time to understand them.
But I have a son. She was pregnant when she left, and she never bothered to tell me. He’s seventeen now, almost a man, old enough to seek me out on his own—against her wishes.
What do I know about raising a child, or an adolescent? I’m seventy-four years old now. Odds are I won’t live long enough to see him become a father, I won’t be there to help him find his place in the world.
I’m so lost, Lena, I just don’t know what to do. Talking to you about it helped, a little, but it’s still so strange, so hard to understand. How could she have kept this from me all these years? Did she hate me that much?
He and I talked for a couple of hours, long enough for me to learn that he was a better man than I could ever be. We’ve met again a number of times and he seems to really be interested in getting to know me, another strange thing. It’s nice, to have someone to care about, someone who cares about me, and to see my own face in his. I never thought it possible and yet, it is.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I never would have believed it.
They’re with me now, sitting on my shoulders and fluttering around my head, waiting for the darkness to come. They need
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