In The Light

Noteworthy Writing Prompt #4

"Write about a light that sometimes works, but mostly doesn't."

Do you have a light that sporadically works? Is it the light bulb or the wiring? Or perhaps it's not a physical light at all? It's all up to you... but remember, more than a paragraph and no more than two pages!

Don't stress about it... Just enjoy the creative process!

Here is my humble effort:

In The Light

By Anuschka de la Court

To some, darkness overwhelms and they die in the shadows. To others, it’s a challenge to find and fight for the light, to live.

“Damn!” she muttered softly, to no one in particular, “That stupid light!” she stumbled a few steps into the front foyer of the 3-bedroom townhouse. There were no lights on and the switch for the hall light didn’t work. The dim-witted light only worked sporadically. It seemed to work only when it was convenient for it, and not for the people who actually needed the tool to see in the dark.

“I think it’s the light bulb.” Her husband uttered balancing on top of the ladder that morning when he took apart the light to inspect why it switch on and off erratically. He was going to go to Rona that afternoon to see if a new light bulb would work.

“I guess it didn’t.” she tried the switch a few more times. It was midnight and her family was asleep, so it was imperative that she be as noiseless as possible.  She had just come in from a wonderful night spent with her sisters. Dinner and good conversation, it had been awhile since they last connected with one and other and she was grateful for the evening and the amazing time they shared.

“Tonight brought back a lot of memories,” she realized, “and lots of laughter too.” She found herself singing and laughing out loud in the car ride home. She was in great spirits, that is, until she got home.

“Ow!” she whispered under her breath as her baby toe hit something hard and steely lying on the floor in the hallway. On closer inspection, as she knelt and felt her way around, she found the unyielding object to be her husbands red tool case.

“Why can’t he put his things away!” she limped her way into the living room, tripping over an empty bag of chips.

“Kids!” Exasperated, she felt around for the light switch on the 1960’s traditional styled table lamp, inherited from an old friend of her mother’s, and turned the old fashioned switch to the right. Nothing. Complete darkness still engulfed her.

“What the…” she flopped down on the sofa beside the lamp and rubbed her sore toe.

“What did he do now?” She wondered, “Did he damaged the electric circuits of the house while trying to fix that damn light?”

“No,” She thought, “If he had, he wouldn’t have just left everything un-fixed.” Her husband was the MacGyver type and he would have duct tape something together to make things work. That’s the type of person he was. He wouldn’t give up on something.

“He never gave up on me.” She sighed and thought back to a time where he very easily could have given up on her. She felt the all too familiar strings of depression pull her down into a place she didn’t want to visit. Not even for a moment. She hated the dark. No, that was too kind a word for it. She loathed it.

“Why?” she thought and then realized it was because it reminded her of her depression ten years ago. A horrid time when her mind and soul were engulfed in darkness with no way out. She lived for years without hope, without any light inside of her. Only dark thoughts of wanting to die, a suicidal Mom parading in a mask of happiness and well-being.

“My post postpartum depression may be over,” she thought, but her fear of living like that again was not. It still hung in the air close to her psyche and it was a daily fight to keep it at bay.

“I’m never going to live in the dark again!” and in her determination, she got up, reached for the flashlight on the bookshelf and turned on the light.