Questions in the Dark - a short story

Questions in the Dark

“Mommy?” The mousy voice of little Hope asked on a mid-Sunday afternoon.

Her mother didn’t answer; instead, she took another swig of beer while she nuked a tray of mac-n-cheese.

Hope didn’t give up, “Mommy?”

“What the f—?” She exploded.

“Answer the damn brat!” Raven interrupted as she took another drag from a joint – her source of recovery from a night of meth.

“I’m not – a, a brat.” Hope stuttered.

“Don’t talk back to your Aunt!” Mommy scolded.

Hope muttered under her breath, “Not my aunt.”

“She’s my dead brother’s widow,” she cried.

A gunshot down the street rang out. The TV echoed the latest disasters – the latest war, the latest school shooting, the latest pandemic, the latest rape, the latest political scandal, the latest nation to fall victim to anarchy, others to martial law – and the list drug on. Eventually, her mommy returned to her nuked meal.

The kitchen, where Hope was coloring, was filled with more tension than smoke – a razorblade was needed to cut through both.

The scars on mommy’s wrists from years past released nothing, just more anger. She glared at the lump on the sofa.

 “Get a job bitch!” Mommy scolded Raven which was received by the bird. Smoke and tension swirled in slow-motion. With the same speed Mommy returned her face to Hope, “What did you want?”

The innocent mouse retreated, “Nothing.”

“Well, it must’ve been something.”

In her cannabis-induced state, Raven shouted, “Bitches! Shit up!”

Hope laughed.

Mommy shot a glare at Raven, “Why – why I let you stay here.”

Raven failed to stand, and fell back down, “Too bad you couldn’t afford the abortion for this one.”

Hoped dropped her head down in pain. She glanced at her mommy to be rescued but found none. Hope’s sadness grew. She returned to coloring. Moments later, her creativity along with the bright yellow Crayon reignited her curiosity. With a quick sniffle, she regained her courage, “Mommy?”

“What now?” Her mommy’s patience ran thin like cracked ice on a lake.

It had been years since Hope had seen a lake with or without ice. Her daddy took her and mommy there once. It reminded her of the laughter they once shared as a family – their shared warmth seemed to melt the ice on that spring vacation. But it quickly froze over when they returned home.

Hope gazed through the smoke and tension into the indifference of her mother’s eyes. She was about to repeat her previous cowardice response but relied upon her curiosity instead, “Why is it so dark?”

“What?” Her mommy cared not nor dared not engage the thought process to answer.

It was obvious from Hope’s expression that she had been pondering the question for a long time – at least for a little girl, it felt like years.

Raven opened her eyes enough to supply an answer as if delivering it in a zip-loc off the street, “It’s hell on earth kid—” her words faded at the same speed as her brain cells.

“Huh?” Hope’s confusion grew like the haze in the air.

By this time, her mommy was engrossed in her mac-n-cheese; she sighed after each bite, “Same old shit!” But she continued to shovel the orange and yellow noodles into her chapped face.

Hope started to cry. Not a full-fledged blubber, but more of a grasp at hope. Her tears were the only thing to soften the dry indifference of her mommy.

Her mommy shoved her tray aside, “Okay. What?” She folded her arms.

Raven was completely incomprehensible when she attempted to repeat her previous response, “It’s hell … earth.”

They ignored her.

Hope nearly gave up but took a deep breath and repeated her question, “Why is it so dark?”

Her mommy’s eyes opened in surprise at the question. For the first time in a long time, Hope saw her mommy give thought to her interest. Hope followed her mommy’s eyes as they both looked outside – at the Darkness. It had been dark for years. Her mommy looked at the TV and Raven passed out through the haze. Mommy’s expression revealed she knew the answer, but she seemed hesitant.

“Mommy?” Hope reached across the deserted kitchen table.

Silence joined the smoke. Hope looked into her mommy’s eyes. Her eyes reached out in one last attempt.

Finally, she began to answer, “Well—” 

“They're gone,” Raven mumbled. “Who cares. I like it!” She wallowed in the torn cushions.

Hope’s face was more perplexed than before, “Who? I don’t understand.”

“You were little when it happened—” she muttered.

“Still too little," Mommy added with a long face.

“What?” Hope pleaded.

The smoke began to subside. Her mommy inhaled a pocket of air, “They were taken away.”

“Why?”

Her mommy simply and plainly said, “Because they had the Light.”

“It was the government,” Raven mumbled correctly.

Image by Melody, licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Hope sunk deep into her chair as if to find more answers. Finally, she got up from her seat and carefully brought her coloring book to her mommy. She reached over the kitchen table toward her mommy’s scarred arms, “Look mommy!” She pointed at her Crayon-filled drawing with a house on top of a hill. She had drawn a black sky with white clouds and a bright yellow line directed at the house. Yellow streaks shot out of the windows.

Shocked, “Why did you draw this?” Mommy grabbed the paper from her tiny hands.

“I saw it,” she squeaked.

Mommy’s eyes widened, “Where?”

“I show you,” she pulled on her mommy’s hand, out the front door and pointed up the street at the house on top of the hill. With eyes of a sad kitten, “I’m tired of living in darkness.”

Her mommy fought back a tear but lost. Not a full-fledged blubber, but more of a grasp at hope. She glanced back at Raven perched in the doorway – and dropped to her knees. Mommy –

tightly held her daughter. They gazed at the Light from the house on the hill as Mommy asked, “But how?”