The Marked Man: The Writer Within #4

I wrote this short story for a public reading at the end of my creative writing course in my sophomore year of college. It draws heavy influence from H.P. Lovecraft (one of my favorite science fiction writers behind Isaac Asimov and Jules Verne), and it did fairly well at the reading. Enjoy!

The Marked Man

“More Tooheys, please, Mac.”

The bartender nodded and handed the half-shaven man another mug. He took a big swig of the lager as the bartender walked away.

Thump!

The drunkard turned to look at his new buddy sitting at the counter. Black hair poked out from underneath a fedora. He wore a large brown cloak and held a single bottle of Pabst in his right hand, half empty.

“Why’s you here, mate? Nuther bint bein’ a drongo for your poor cock?”

He laughed and downed another gulp.

“Actually, I was just in here to escape the sun. Damn hot out there.”

“Hey, you ehn’t from round here. You’s a seppo, ehn’t ya?”

“Sure.”

“Ha! So why you wander down to the depths of Australia into Wagga Wagga, mate?”

“Too much light on top of the world in America. Thought it’d be darker down here at the bottom.”

The American took a sip of his beer.

 “Now, why’s you sayin’ that? Light’s pretty good for us, idn’t it? Helps us to see and walk.”

 “It burns me. Slowly destroys me. Kills me.”

“Ah, you’s a burner, eh? Slip, slop, slap, sleep, sleek, slide, slosh, slalom… Bugger, can’t remember right now. Enyways, just slop on some sunscreen. Problem solved.”

“Doesn’t work. Sunscreen prevents burns, not cancer.”

The American swallowed some more of his beer.

“I just hate the light. So invasive and destructive. Unnatural.”

“Hey, what’s unnatural ‘bout light? I’d wager it’s the most natural thing on Earth.”

“It’s not. Without any solar or artificial light, what occupies emptiness?”

The Aussie shrugged and smacked his lips.

“Darkness, shadow, void. Bunch of nothin’, what it is.”

The American slammed his fist on the counter.

“That’s just it! Everyone says it’s nothing, that it’s absence of light. They give it gloomy and pejorative terms like darkness and black. Why not call it something more cheery? Shame…”

“Bugger all, what you goin’ on ‘bout? Dark is bad and light is good; even an infant knows that. We couldn’t see or do anythin’ without light.”

“Really? The human body is quite amazing. We could see in the dark if our eyes weren’t constantly subject to light’s destruction. Shadow is our home. Why are we created inside our mothers, in pure darkness, where no light can harm us? Why do we feel most comfortable to sleep when it is dark? Because shadow nurtures us and heals us from the light of the day.”

The Aussie pushed his mug away and sat back to stare at the cloaked man.

“Look outside our world: space is endless dark. Nature knows shadow is the backbone of our universe. But light invades and destroys it…”

The American paused to finish the rest of his drink.

“Do you even realize what light truly is? Destruction of matter. Explosions. Ripping apart atoms and releasing the energy inside. Light causes so much death, so many tiny organisms burned away by its stolen energy. Look at the sun! It’s the epicenter of death in our solar system, trillions of molecules ripped apart into trillions of explosions, firing light out from itself. It burns us away daily, and eventually, it will erupt into a supernova. Then everything will die in a flood of fire.”

The American stood and looked at the Aussie.

“Come outside and I’ll show you.”

The Aussie nodded then finished his lager. Standing, he followed the other out into the evening air. The American waved his hands around.

“Look around you! You can see Darkness everywhere, abundant but being destroyed every moment! The whole world is being bombarded with light from that evil star! It burns our home around us! Can you see it?!”

The American placed his hand on the Aussie’s arm.

“See it!”

The Aussie gasped. The black air around them glittered. He could see the darkness, fluid and nurturing. He felt it stroke his skin as he walked forward into it.

But his right arm burned. He focused on it. An tiny spark glittered off of his arm. He yelped and tried to shake it off, but it sunk into his skin. He looked back up and screamed. The glitter in the air was particles of light. He tried to move left, but they permeated that space. He turned right, and there they were, raining endlessly. The sparks zipped down from the sky, moving incredibly fast. They exploded on the pavement, on the grass, on his clothes, on his hair, on his skin. He screamed and fell to the ground, pulling his knees into his chest.

“STOP! They’re everywhere! Burning everything! OH MY GOD! I’m burning alive!”

He looked up and saw the American walking through the falling flames. The light bounced off him, leaving him unscathed.

“H-how are you doing that?! Please help me! HELP!”

He uncurled and breathed heavily, body soaked in sweat. The American crouched down and pulled a large Bowie knife out of his boot. He grabbed the Aussie’s right arm and lifted it up. The Aussie’s eyes grew large as he saw a red oval in the skin of his forearm. The cloaked man began cutting it open, but the Aussie felt nothing. Once finished, the American peeled back the skin and revealed a gaping wound filled with black tar. He placed his mouth over it and sucked as hard as he could. Any energy left in the Aussie drained out of him through his arm. His pupils shrank. The visions of fire faded away and everything became bright white. The American stood from the arm, wound empty of black, but still not bleeding. The eyes of the Aussie had become completely white. He shivered and tried to speak.

“W-w-w-why…”

The American sighed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Thank you.”

He turned and walked away. The Aussie exhaled his final breath.