Regret can make sleeping hard at night. Worries can circle you like vultures ready to consume your dying and drying corpse. And instead of seeing the beauty, you pluck out your eyes in order to be blind to what is around you. Trapped, surrounded, the illusions have become your reality, and then, your sleepless hours are your prison.
The depth of my darkness is based on my idea of creating a world where I can create crimes to then solve. It is part of what spurs me onward. At night, when the house is quiet, and not even the night owl hoots, it waits for an invitation, a simple prodding. And during those magical moments, I witness the greatness of my imagination. My Erebus. The place where my darkness is home.
'If I Had a Heart' by Fever Ray
Courtesy of YouTube
I love sharing tidbits of my life from before this great adventure. While residing in Ohio, the young tomboy I was, I enjoyed fishing and idolizing my brother. Looking back, I sort of felt like I was part of the Andy Griffith show (in the relationship between the characters), and on one Saturday morning, my brother and I headed out to the local pond. With our painter’s bucket and fishing lines, we walked along the trails, until we reached the spot.
Like a good, brave girl, I baited my hook, cast my line and waited for the fish to nibble. When the line tugged, my eight year old face lit up. I cracked the brightest smile, almost as if the sun was inside of me. I was super proud of my accomplishment, even if I couldn’t reel it in alone.
Once the fish was in the bucket, which we filled with water, we carried the now heavy bucket back towards the house, and I made plans. This was not just any fish, but a rainbow trout that was going to have a special name. It was special to me for no other reason than that. Up until then, I’d never caught anything. You see, my greatest goal was to take something wild and tame it – to make it my pet; another thing that I could cherish.
When we finally arrived home, I found my mother in the kitchen. “I caught a fish,” I gushed and pointed at the fish in the bucket, which continued to swim around. In all of my excitement, I wanted to tell everyone. I quickly dumped my stuff and headed out the door, and only minutes later, I returned to see my dear fish being gutted in the sink, while my mother thrust the knife into his stomach and split him open. The water ran red, and her hands slowly moved along the body, pulling and tugging, disemboweling the poor creature. His once lively eyes were already dim, and all I heard was the running of the tap water.
Tears ran down my face, and I stood there and watched.