The darkness within

Killing. Stealing. Lying. It’s all the same really, it all comes from a dark place. A place we all have somewhere within us. There’s no point in denying it, it’s there no matter how saintly we try to be. Our only saving grace from this darkness within us is the freedom of choice. The choice we make to suppress the darkness and never let it see the light of day. Or the choice we make to embrace it, be consumed by it until it blackens every single piece of our souls. Those choices are the two ends of a bridge and once you cross to one end, you can never ever go back.

People say it’s easy to be good. Smile, be kind, do unto others as you would want them to do unto you and all the other candy-coated stuff. Even scientists backed this up with some scientific fact about using less muscles to smile than you do to frown.

But then the bad guys say it’s even easier to be bad. You do whatever the hell you want, don’t worry about anything, nothing plagues your conscience because you don’t have one at all and even the bad guys get to smile (so no worries about working too many facial muscles either).

What no-one ever tells you is that nothing comes easy. Being good, being bad, it’s all hard. By trying to be good all the time you struggle with your dark side. It tries to rise to the surface and make its presence known and pushing it back down is damn near impossible because it’s like trying to rip away a part of yourself. Being bad isn’t all sunshine and roses either. You have to live with the consequences of every bad thing you’ve ever said or done. Every second, every minute and every hour of everyday. Fighting away the remorse that tries to eat away at you until you’re nothing more than an empty shell.

Of late I’ve been struggling with my dark side, standing precariously close to the dark end of the bridge as its siren like call beckoned me closer to the darkness. Anger clouded all sound judgement and threatened to smother any semblance of good within me, but alas good always wins the fight in the end.

Or at least it did.

Until 1 hour, 37 minutes and 15 seconds ago.

The moment I killed a man.

***

Just to be clear before anyone freaks out, no this isn’t a confession or anything. It’s purely fiction. I recently went through an ordeal (well for most it may not be that big of a deal but it tortured me). It tore me apart, broke me down until I questioned who I was and why I even bothered trying to be that person. I was depressed, angry, haunted. Then I decided to write because writing always makes me feel better. I tried (admittedly not hard enough haha) to write a cheerful story but with the way I felt, everything just kept getting tainted by darkness (like this one story that was about a wedding but then everyone died at the reception except the bride who had declined a piece of her own wedding cake, claiming to be allergic to something in there, hmmm. My own darkness drove me to ruin cake! That’s where I drew the line and shoved that darkness into the pits where it belongs haha).

I realized one thing though, all the stories had the same theme, a good person turning dark because they were pushed by some circumstance. And that’s how this piece began. I feel decidedly better now (enough not to let the bride poison the cake and instead have her spike the wine or something; anything but the sweet, glorious cake, haha). I hadn’t intended to make this a part of the #SelfChallenge but I may as well. So ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my piece for the #Flashfiction genre.

Oh and Dear future husband, if you happen to read this don’t worry, I’m not going to poison our wedding cake.

I love cake way too much to do that hahaha 😀

 

Advertisements

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s