By Alexa LoSchiavo
Explanation/Writing Process
I wrote this to convey the way one feels in response to the absurd. I had just finished Myth of Sisyphus and was recognizing the ways one meets oneself in the absurd. I had an image of a blue light with me and thought that it would make an interesting story. My process for this piece was just to write and cycle my thoughts out and then work on developing the plot over time. I didn’t really know where this piece was going. I wanted to write interesting dialogue which I think happened, but I also wanted the characters to be met as shadows, so I tried to put a lot of imagery surrounding that. I wanted the description of her day to be eerily similar to a regular person’s day, but then have slight differences, to recognize that this was, in fact, not the same life we live.
She’d been waking up at three a.m. every night that week. The week where everything changed—where her mind went blank and rerouted its thoughts as if all the circuits had been lost, in a desperate attempt to cling onto what was left of her body.
She’d wake up at exactly three and sit up as if possessed by some spirit, which hadn’t made itself known to her yet. She’d lay waiting for sleep to overtake her once more. She didn’t want to get out of bed because then she’d have to confront whatever was waking her, whatever was beckoning her to come outside the door, and make peace with herself, or the night, whichever came first. She’d lay awake and wait to be lulled into a submissive sleep, waiting for darkness to cover her from head to toe. She’d relinquish her thoughts at the hands of whatever made up the stuff of dreams… or nightmares, and she’d hope that the next night she wouldn’t have to confront the darkness again.
She lived the way all people did. She went to work promptly at eight a.m., getting in her car as all her neighbors did with a cup of coffee and a scowl over their faces, because wouldn’t it be more prompt if some of them were able to go to work at nine instead of eight? And wouldn’t it be better if they weren’t stuck in a massive traffic jam in order to make it to work promptly at nine?
But no one had a say in the matter—it was up to heads far out of their reach who decided years ago that everyone would have their jobs chosen for them and everyone would go to work at the same time. The free will of choice would be relinquished to the hands of those who actually knew what they were doing. She wasn’t one of those people.
She lived the way all people did. Filling up her life with what she could and letting herself be satisfied like one pours a cup of hot water and soaks a tea bag waiting subtly for the hints of flavor to sink into the water, not quite knowing which flavor will stay and which would waste away.
She talked to her coworkers, making small talk about the weather: “Wasn’t it such a hot day?” and “Would Melinda be bringing in her awful homemade cookies tomorrow?” She sat at her desk and worked the best she could, watching the letters she typed run over the page and the numbers she cranked be put into small little boxes as her fingers flew across the computer. It was her. She was doing this work, and she would mindlessly do it until it came time for her to leave for the day. Then, she’d get in her car and drive all the way home, waiting in traffic with her other employees, with her other fellow humans, with all the people of the world as the sunset dripped into the clouds and the stars trinkled into the sky.
All that is to say, Katie lived a perfectly normal life, all in accordance with the laws and morals that govern living and in accordance with what it takes to be a human being. So, she didn’t understand when she suddenly awoke at three a.m. every morning with a haunting urge deep in the pit of her stomach which called on her to leave her bed and walk outside—which called on her to open the door and dance with the night, leaving after curfew when no person dared to walk outside.
Why couldn’t she rest?
On the last night of the week, after a mundane Thursday had gone by and she was wide awake again at three a.m. on a Friday, she decided she’d had enough. She became possessed with a sudden anger that floated into her bones and moved her arms as if she was no longer in control of her body and she threw the covers off her bed and got up. She opened her white french doors to walk out into the rest of her house.
And as she did, she turned to the right and saw a faint blue light reflected on the wall. It was strong and vibrant, almost softly calling to her. Common sense told her it was just the reflection from her half moon window, some lamplight mixed with the night which made this sensual color. But she didn’t want common sense to grasp her in its arms tonight. She wanted to relinquish herself to whatever was haunting her, whatever had eclipsed her mind so fully. So, she followed the blue light searching for its source, in the embrace of the night.
Katie walked outside and the blue light followed, still shaped like a half moon, but somehow reflecting off the night sky, reflecting off the stars like a limelight or a siren call.
She was entranced, so entranced that she kept walking, eyes looking up at the sky, until she bumped into two shadows in the night. They were standing straight up, as if they had been plucked from their spot on the sidewalk and dragged upright, still flat as could be but standing there like a straight line eclipsed by darkness.
The first shadow said, “We’ve been calling you all week… and now you choose to pick up….” “That’s so like a human, isn’t it Padma,” he sneered. “Yes, it quite is… to make us wait so long. On a Friday morning no less. Or is it night…” she turned to Derek and asked. “Well, it’s not quite night or morning is it? We’re in the space in between, where all people seem to live—in limbo, if you will.”
Katie stood there, waiting for them to finish talking and debating over the state of the night/ She asked quietly, “Why am I here?”
“That’s the question isn’t it? What everyone asks…. Why am I here?” said Derek. He turned and looked straight into Katie, peering into her soul even though he had no eyes or face to show his stare. “Have you ever asked yourself that?”
Katie turned herself over in her mind, disassembling her past life. That question had never crossed her mind until tonight.
I suppose there’s a reason that one should follow what haunts them in the middle of the night.