I thought I ought to post something in the literary forums. I'm rather content with this. But any thoughts or comments are welcome. Any one have a guess why, at the end, Abby is...? (It ought to fit here (section)...just a little subtle on the fantastic...)
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Abby was afraid of the dark. Sometimes she couldn’t recall why, sometimes she thought she wasn’t.
But then she woke, and the sky was dead pierced by stars and shadows crawled the streets.
“All right, kid?” asked the man on the corner.
“Oh yes,” Abby shook her head. “I don’t like the dark.”
He laughed affably, patted her head and went on. The street lamps cast nets of thin light over his dark head; but darkness clung to his heels, and his shadow blacked the concrete like tar.
Abby scuffed miserably out towards the boulevard, rubbing her pale hands to rid them of smudges. But she couldn’t rub the dark off.
Sometimes she thought, maybe the dark had hurt her. She couldn’t recall. But people didn’t hate things for no reason. Sometimes she dreamed the sun was burning holes in her shadow; sometimes she dreamed the day came and she woke to see it. But it didn’t, of course, because when she woke it was dark again, and the moon only made shadows deeper.
“Hey - watch it!”
Abby jumped, flinching. Bicycle tires blurred past, spokes whirred - their faint shadow flickered spider webs lines over the street.
“C’mon - whaddya doing out this late?”
Abby shook her head.
The boy rolled his eyes, but concern hovered in his pointed face.
“Just watch it, OK?”
“Yes,” said Abby.
With a last disturbed glance, the bike-boy took off down the thoroughfare, weaving in and out of the cars’ tangled headlights.
Abby sat on the curb and pulled her knees up to her chin. Her thin fingers felt cold against her shins, her breath colder in her throat. She closed her eyes.
Perhaps something lived in the dark, something awful. Maybe she’d only decided to forget because it was more frightening than not knowing. With her eyes closed, she pretended the sun was rising over the hill, and the cars were gleaming like gold.
It wasn’t.
Dejected, Abby crawled to her feet. The cars had stopped. The wide street was dead, fogged by fading lamps. Above the moon had fallen at last, and the sky was black.
Shadow followed her back up the sidewalk.
Sometimes she wondered if she hadn’t forgotten anything at all. Maybe the day was a dream. Because she never saw a sun; she never saw light bright enough to burn shadows, or sky brighter than bloodied violet.
But she couldn’t remember. She was scared of the dark…
“I’m frightened,” she told the shadows, “I’m afraid.” Her voice sounded too faint, too weak.
She was afraid of the dark. Sometimes she dreamed that night went on for years; sometimes she thought the dreams weren’t dreams at all. But she was always the same little girl. Her hands always looked thin and pale in the darkness.
Abby hopped and crawled back through the window. Light was itching the nape of her neck.
“Morning,” she said happily.
But she was tired, too tired…she slept.
...I considered 1st person POV - vaguely. But it's more difficult to manage the obscurity when stuck in a character's head.
But honestly, perhaps the idea is that one wonders what in the world she's doing...
not a complete story by any stretch - if a complete snapshot.
