DarkView
Mystic
Stretched across the doctor's black leather couch was a rumpled looking man. His right forearm rested on his forehead limply and his dark-ringed eyes looked at the white ceiling without seeming to focus on it. The day was what the doctor would call "gloomy" with massive grey clouds that got darker as they spread to the horizon till the distance looked to be painted ebony, forecast for the rest of the day. Because the back of the couch was placed against the large window intended to let in as much sunlight as possible, the man was shrouded in an extra layer of shadow. This made his tired face look somewhat strange and impossible to discern any emotion displayed on it.
The doctor was looking at him expectantly, his pencil poised on a sheet of his notepad. "Howard, do you feel like you can answer that question?" he said, squinting a bit. The man who called himself Howard Bailey, though the doctor was doubtful of the veracity of this moniker, sighed quietly. "What was the question?" he said. "Well, we were talking about this preoccupation you've had this past year with dark themes, and that you feel attracted to what you call 'the abyss.'
"It's not that I'm attracted to it."
"So, how would you categorize it?"
"I don't know."
"Over these three months based on what you've told me, it seems you actively seek this darkness."
An audible groan emanated from the strangely shadowed face of Howard Bailey, and his limp arm lifted off his forehead and extended vertically. His hand make a quick motion in the air, expressing a signal whose meaning the doctor had no idea of, yet made him very uneasy. The doctor made a note and asked, "Why do you seek the dark, Howard?" He leaned forward hoping that the movement was inconspicuous, but now the face looked to be taking on the same tint as the couch and the only thing he could make out clearly was the long thin mouth that opened and closed.
"It is not that I seek the dark willingly, doctor. No sane mind would. It's that the dark creeps up slowly, encircling one till the eye cannot help seeing it and its magnitude finally becomes clear. Then, as in most cases, a pathologized rationality asserts itself, and all dark is somehow needed to explain all light." The implications hung in the air between them a moment that became a full minute. A ticking sound imposed itself then and the doctor caught himself moving closer to the edge of his chair, sweatily scrutinizing the mouth that continued to move. Leaning back quickly, he looked to the clock on the far side the room.
The white face looked smudged, as if the numbers were melting. He rose and walked to within a foot of it, where he saw that it was six o'clock. Confused, he consulted the notepad and saw that this one hour session had begun at four. The clouds were more bloated now, ready to open and let their contents fall and spread. "Are we finished, doctor?" said the form.
"We--" The clouds swelled. They swelled but did not move and did not open, and the doctor stared.
The doctor was looking at him expectantly, his pencil poised on a sheet of his notepad. "Howard, do you feel like you can answer that question?" he said, squinting a bit. The man who called himself Howard Bailey, though the doctor was doubtful of the veracity of this moniker, sighed quietly. "What was the question?" he said. "Well, we were talking about this preoccupation you've had this past year with dark themes, and that you feel attracted to what you call 'the abyss.'
"It's not that I'm attracted to it."
"So, how would you categorize it?"
"I don't know."
"Over these three months based on what you've told me, it seems you actively seek this darkness."
An audible groan emanated from the strangely shadowed face of Howard Bailey, and his limp arm lifted off his forehead and extended vertically. His hand make a quick motion in the air, expressing a signal whose meaning the doctor had no idea of, yet made him very uneasy. The doctor made a note and asked, "Why do you seek the dark, Howard?" He leaned forward hoping that the movement was inconspicuous, but now the face looked to be taking on the same tint as the couch and the only thing he could make out clearly was the long thin mouth that opened and closed.
"It is not that I seek the dark willingly, doctor. No sane mind would. It's that the dark creeps up slowly, encircling one till the eye cannot help seeing it and its magnitude finally becomes clear. Then, as in most cases, a pathologized rationality asserts itself, and all dark is somehow needed to explain all light." The implications hung in the air between them a moment that became a full minute. A ticking sound imposed itself then and the doctor caught himself moving closer to the edge of his chair, sweatily scrutinizing the mouth that continued to move. Leaning back quickly, he looked to the clock on the far side the room.
The white face looked smudged, as if the numbers were melting. He rose and walked to within a foot of it, where he saw that it was six o'clock. Confused, he consulted the notepad and saw that this one hour session had begun at four. The clouds were more bloated now, ready to open and let their contents fall and spread. "Are we finished, doctor?" said the form.
"We--" The clouds swelled. They swelled but did not move and did not open, and the doctor stared.
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