Friday, September 5, 2014 2:07 AM
It's all in my mind.
It was like a switch flipped.
In the split second that the white light blinds, an intuitive realisation that the world as you know it will never be the same again.
Close your eyes with me.
Imagine walking into a room, pitch dark, delightfully cool.
With a little creak, the door closes behind you.
The dark unsettles.
Backing, you feel not the door you entered from.
An uneasiness creeps from the depths of your stomach, increasing in every moment-
You dare not move your feet, for fear of what lies ahead.
Both of fear- fear of breaking something precious, and fear of being broken.
You tell yourself that you will know what to do once your eyes adapt.
You tell yourself that you will then, take action.
A silhouette of a table like surface comes vaguely into focus.
You tentatively put your hand on it-
And like the miracle you craved for, a light.
A single candle, flickering, casting a warm orange glow upon that which it surrounds.
Mesmerizing. There's a draw in such concentrated warmth, such concentrated light in such a dark place.
You could look at it a long while.
But no. You move away, trying to get your bearings about this strange room.
In the process you almost tripped; almost inevitable considering the half blind, stumbling gait.
You would never have expected many more candles appearing.
They light themselves around that which you can't identify upon first glance.
Something mirror like in quality? Reflective, bringing about streaks of orange through part of the room.
Something metallic in appearance? Sturdy, unyielding, yet beautiful in its own way.
Something that looks like glass? Fragile like- so much so you aren't sure it exists.
The end product so pretty, so confusing that you freeze, to stop and stare.
A stray thought with some degree of wonder: what being made this? How does it work? How does it shine so beautifully? Can it be recreated?
You reach out your hand in fascination.
Darkness of the room forgotten.
The possibility of danger lurking in the black corners the last thing on your mind.
Unlike Aurora in Sleeping Beauty, you don't get to touch it.
As though a self-defense mechanism, white light explodes.
It was like a switch flipped.
In the split second that the white light blinds, an intuitive realisation that the world as you know it will never be the same again.
Your eyes prick from the sudden flash, only to find the room lit with white light again.
The candles change not.
The structure remains.
The material more observable.
You can't get the beauty you remembered out of your mind.
Yet fact you can't run from.
You see it better now.
You will never see it the same way as before.
I realise only now that you are only human.