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Confortable Darkness
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Confortable Darkness
The world is dark and light is not welcome. It only pains the eyes.
[996 words]
Sime Sheef
I'm a published teenage writer that has been writing short stories since the fall of 2005. I also write poetry and flash fiction. Usually, I tend to write fiction, more specifically fantasy, but have tried my hand at other genres. I am an honors student and plan on being a writer, missionary, and linguist. I am an actor, fencer, artist, and guitar player.
[September 2006]
Alone At Dawn (Short Stories) The tale of a man searching to resolve the pain of loosing the woman he loved. [957 words] [Fantasy]
To The Fullest (Short Stories) Peter has figured out how to drain the potential from every moment in life...but what will it cost him? [978 words] [Suspense]
Without Reason (Short Stories) Anger breeds hate and hate breeds evil. Unfortunately this perfect world breeds all three. [983 words] [Fantasy]
Confortable Darkness
Sime Sheef

A man stood alone on the top of a mountain surrounded by darkness. He had taken on the steep climb in order to look down on the land below and to explore the white top of the mountain. He had never taken the time before to climb the mountain and what he saw now astonished him. So far above where he had come, he noticed how dark everything really was. Everything below him was black.

Black pools of deep water, deep holes of regret, bent-over and lightning struck trees, and hopelessly empty and broken down shelters scattered the landscape- all dark and all horrible. He was looking down onto his whole life but it all looked so different. Every place he had ever been and everything he had ever done was sprawled out before him, like the dead dog on the side of the road that everyone ignores.

Down there he would go from place to place only looking up occasionally. Every time he did look up he regretted doing so because when he did he would always see the mountain towering high above him so far away with its white peak. The climb was simple enough but it was the idea of going so far away from his comfortable place to somewhere so non-familiar and frightening.

He imagined himself back down there, working the ground and planting his crops. His small crops were mostly all he had in life. He looked down to the land he knew and tried to find where the fruits of his efforts and time were. As soon as he looked he saw them. The lines of fruit stretched out farther than he thought. The lines looked dark but they were probably made that way because of how far off they were. He loved to take that fresh harvest and bite down into it- the juice splattering out. The taste wouldn’t last long but it was good enough for him.

Thinking about his harvest reminded him of the fruit he had brought with him. He pulled it out of his pocket. As he did so, he noticed that his clothes were torn. They were bloodied and ripped in so many places but he hadn’t ever noticed that before. He shrugged his shoulders and brought the fruit up to his mouth but as he did so he noticed another thing that he hadn’t before. The fruit that he so fervently desired was a dark shade of purple, almost looking spoiled.

He furrowed his eye-brows but decided that it was nothing. He took a bite but it didn‘t taste the same. As he sloshed it back and forth in his mouth it became bitter. He took another bite to make sure that it wasn’t just a bad spot but it tasted just the same the second time. He spat it all out and threw the fruit. It landed on the mountain’s side a few hundred feet down and rolled the rest of the way.

Why is everything so different up here? he thought. He looked down at his hands, turning them over and over. They seemed paler…brighter. “It’s the light.” he whispered to himself. He looked up to the sky. Even the highest part of his world was dark. He looked down. The ground on which he stood was stark white. He bent down and picked up some dirt. As he lifted it up to around his chest he noticed how the light changed. The dirt radiated light. He let the breeze wisp the dirt out of his hand that had coincidently started to blow.

For the first time, he looked at his surroundings. The top of the mountain was as flat as the ground far below, but of course it was not the same dark color. It was white; as white as could be and definitely the whitest thing he had ever seen. He walked forward a few steps, the dirt kicking up around his feet. The wind blew harder than before and the white dirt flew into the air all around him. Suddenly the wind stopped.

Opening his eyes, for he had had closed them to protect them, he saw something that wasn’t there before. Twenty feet away there was a pool of clear blue water and in it there was a woman swimming in a gown. She turned around and looked at him. She called out, “I’ve been waiting for you to come.”

The man brought his hand to his chest as a sign of disbelief. Why would anyone so beautiful want to see him? She called out once more, but this time for him to come near. Afraid, he took his steps slowly.

The woman started to wave her hands, beckoning him towards her. “Come.” she called. It seemed like it took forever to get to the edge of the pool. “Child,” she said, “why do you live in such darkness? Make the leap and you will live a new life with me. We will live luxuriously together in paradise. Just look for yourself.”

He looked down expecting to see the same clear water that he had seen in the distance but that’s not what he saw. He saw blurry pictures full of white fruits, beautiful flowering trees and a wonderful white house with him and the woman enjoying the day together on its porch. Then the picture faded and became the blue water that he had expected before. He could see the water go down to its depths, where it got dark. “But it’s too deep.” he said, “I can’t swim that well.”

“If you jump and renew your life in the water I will take care of you, no matter what happens.” the woman replied.

“I can’t.” he whispered. He couldn’t risk what little he had in order to gain something so farfetched. He turned around and ran back to his comfortable, dark life and did not stop until he met the dirty black ground that he knew so well.


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© 2006 Sime Sheef
September 2006

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