ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Commercial & Creative Writing»
  • Creative Writing

Hope in the Darkness

Updated on September 30, 2012

This is a metaphorical story for those times when you feel lost in a situation and can’t seem to find a way out. Whether it’s a situation that I have put myself in or one that life has dumped on me I sometimes tend to feel lost in them and I tend to ask myself “How the hell am I going to get out of this mess?” Though not all situations are the same I am sure we have all been there and can relate. But no matter how terrible the situation is or becomes I hope that you never give in to the negative feeling that might arise from it. Hope is a terribly wonderful thing that brings inspiration to us all. Enjoy!

It was dark. The room in which I stood was cold and vast. It didn’t seem to end, or maybe that’s just how it felt. I turned around several times trying to look for something, to see if I could see anything. But there was only darkness there. I reached out with my hands, slowly shuffling my feet across the floor. But the room was empty. I couldn’t even find a wall.

I could feel my heart start to race, its rhythmic “thump” sounding in my ears. I stifled my tears. They were no help to me here.

Where is here? Why am I here? And how did I get here? I slowly sank down onto the floor (ground?) and tried to think. It was cold where I sat. I could not distinguish the material that I ran my hand over, but it was cold and flat. Maybe it was stone. There were no lines or cracks. So it wasn’t tile. It felt like one big slab of rock (cement?).

Somehow me trying to decipher what was around me calmed my mind so I tried to sit long enough to listen, but all I heard was the air floating around me and the noises I made myself.

Focus. Why am I here? What is the last thing I remember? Though it was already pitch black I closed my eyes so that I might think better.

I remember… a smile. Was it mine? I can feel the warmth of that smile, the glow that seems to radiate off of it.

I remember… a warm hand around mine, gently squeezing my hand as if reassuring me of something; to let me know I’m safe.

I hear talking. A deep, soothing voice whispering into me ear. Soft, warm lips tickling my ear as they move. I hear it; so soft, so familiar.

I opened my eyes into the pitch black nothingness and sighed. What am I supposed to do? How do I get home? Then I felt something. The feeling wasn’t anything tangible but more of a pull from something telling me where to go. I crawled on my hands and knees, too terrified to stand, and followed this feeling.

I crawled. I crawled on that hard, cold floor. My knees ached and my hands burned with every slap of the palm. I was terrified of what I was crawling to. My body was begging me to stop but I was too scared to sit still.

Blinded by darkness and driven by fear, it felt like I crawled for hours. After grasping along, following that feeling I hit a wall. A solid, wood that was cool to the touch, the surface slightly textured. I slowly pulled myself up supporting my shaking, desperately tired knees by leaning on the wall. My breath was ragged and my brow was sweaty as I patted on the wall achingly with my hands looking for a door or a window, a way out of the darkness.

I fumbled and cursed as I pulled myself along the wall. I was cold and tired. My hands and knees throbbed, raw from such a long crawl. Then I found it.

Just before I was about to give into the fear and doubt, I found it. My hand brushed it and suddenly I was filled with a new sense of hope. A door knob.

I could feel myself smile and hear myself laugh as I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal. I gently put my forehead on the wall and rested, giving myself a moment for the feeling to sink in. Hope. Then with one hand holding me steady on the wall the other grasped the door knob. I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned it and gave a push.

The light was brilliant, painfully beautiful and I smiled as I walked back into its familiar, warm glow.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • profile image

      LordPikachu 5 years ago

      sorry that last comment was mine, and I thought (like with my user names for other things) there was a 33 on the end

    • profile image

      LordPikachu33 5 years ago

      Bishopkmb that was prolly my fav of yours so far. I like the use of desperation as a literary device much more than sad or scary. I don't necessary need hope to be in the story, though I do like happy endings, but a desperation for happiness, safety, love, something--anything--better is such a drive and catalyst for the story to get from point A to point B. It creates a suspension that I want relieved, and it makes me want to finish in my own desperation for a happy resolve. I'm actually working on piece about exactly that. Keep up the good work!

    • profile image

      blakesherman 5 years ago

      I enjoyed this. Allows a lot of thought for the imagination.

    • profile image

      Beth 5 years ago

      You write about creepy must be a creepy person. Lol! Another great short story!

    • jeugenejohn profile image

      jeugenejohn 5 years ago from Kerala

      Can really associate the hub with life and its reality. Thought provoking indeed.

    • profile image

      scooter825 5 years ago

      Very nice