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Ebony Armonz

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The Darkest Light
by Ebony Armonz
Monday, September 23, 2019

Rated "G" by the Author.

       
Recent stories by Ebony Armonz
· Fragments of Regret
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     A lonely girl attends a funeral full of strangers.

 She looked up at the strangely familiar face, here was this boy not much older than her. He had the same blue eyes, and sandy blond hair. She examined him intently, looking for every trace of resemblance. He was tall and thin like her, but where she had a face full of freckles his skin was clear and smooth. She couldn't detect a single blemish. They shared the same long, narrow, pointed nose with tiny nostrils. His lips less full and pouty but thinner and more defined. The biggest difference she noticed between them had nothing to do with their features. It was the pain in his face and his eyes. She couldn’t imagine the pain and sadness he must be feeling right now. Though she was sad, her sadness wrestled with curiosity and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to feel the pain. Not like the pain he must be feeling. Here she was at the funeral of a man she had never met, a man who may have never known she existed, a man she knew nothing about. Yet this is the man who was responsible for her existence. She had almost decided not to attend the funeral but at the last minute changed her mind. It would be her only chance to see the face of the man who fathered her. Even though she’d never get to feel his presence, look into his eyes, see his smile, or hear his voice or how he laughed. At least she could say she saw his face. She walked towards the open casket before she lost her nerve. Intertwined with so many emotions she couldn’t focus on which one to feel. The closer she got, the number she became and the more real the whole situation started to feel. She noticed some of the eyes that glared at her, seeing the family resemblance but not knowing who she was. A few people spoke to her, but she was in such a daze she didn’t hear what they were saying it was like the whole room went silent. Her eyes stayed fused to the open casket and she didn’t even understand how she was moving her legs and feet. All her senses seemed to have stopped functioning. She couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. Once she finally got to the casket, she looked in glaring at her father’s pale lifeless face. Without warning and with no control, tears started to pour from her eyes and her legs started to feel weak. She realized she hadn’t been breathing, the whole walk to the casket she had been holding her breath. She slowly inhaled to supply herself the oxygen she had been deprived. When she exhaled, her senses betrayed her once again. Somewhere deep within herself came a blood curdling cry. It was so strong it seemed to stop time for a millisecond. It was as if all her emotions hit her at once. Anger, sadness, pain, love, fear, and emotions she couldn’t put a name to. It was too much, she couldn’t do it. She needed to get out of this place, this feeling, the whole situation was too much. Her instincts told her to run, run as fast as you can out of this place, but before she could move the room went black. When she came to, she was laying on the ground peering up at a mass of sad, red, teary eyed, grieving people. The one closest to her was the boy she saw earlier with the same blue eyes and sandy blond hair. He was holding her hand and he was examining her, as she had him. When she looked in his eyes it was clear he knew exactly who she was. He looked at her the same way she had looked at him, noticing all the similarities and differences. Realizing he’d never feel the same sadness she had. She had never met this boy a day in her life but at that moment she felt a connection with him. One she'd never felt with another human being. They all kept asking her who she was, and she couldn’t find her voice to speak what would she even say. That she was the deceased's daughter, and would they even believe her. Before she could figure out what to say the boy holding her hand, looked at her and said it’s ok. He looked up at all the other sad faces and declared with such clarity. “This is my sister.” A feeling rushed over her one she still can’t explain. It was the saddest day her life. Yet this boy, this stranger, comforted her, and with one look let her know she was safe and protected. It was her one silver lining. This boy her brother had given her something she thought she'd never have… family.

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Reviewed by Ronald Hull 9/24/2019
So poignant and emotional. Brought a tear to my eye. Very good writing. Just enough character development for the story. You stripped away details to focus on the main point. I did see a few minor errors that could be easily corrected. The only thing that bothered me was calling freckles a "blemish." Doris Day had freckles and her skin remained beautiful right up until her death on April 13. You are right that the boy's skin was different, but I don't think that hers was blemished at all. I was always attracted to freckles. Now pimples, I had those as a young man, still do, are blemishes. ;-)

Ron

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