The Dark Room Story

The Dark Room

I keep having the same dream. The one where I'm running or jumping on the trampoline and I fall. And everytime I fall, I wake up with this big twitch throughout my entire body. And after the big twitch, my body goes numb. I can't move, I can't speak, but I can see a figure in the darkness of my room, a presence at the foot of my bed. Eventually the darkness disappears, condensing evenly into the corners of my room. And then I fall back to sleep.

I was raised to be a religious girl. I say this because every Sunday for my entire life i was taken to “the house of God” by my grandmother. I never actually cared for the service, but I went because it was routine. By the time I was 15 I never paid attention to mass again, but I had the entire two hours memorized down to the point. Sit, kneel, stand, say a couple of hallelujahs, sing with the choir, and buy my way into heaven by putting a dollar in the collection plate. 

I had doubts, of course, that a magical, long bearded man, floating in a cloud could save me from damnation, but i went to church for my grandma. We only had each other. She would tell me that with god anything was possible. That following the mandates of the lord would assure me an afterlife in heaven after I completed school and went to college of course because God didn’t allow “burras” in heaven. 

I followed the guidelines and everything, but I still couldn’t understand how anyone could have faith in such an old book. Turns out you have to be a kindhearted person, with some type of ignorant bliss. I always thought of myself as a nice person. I was polite, honest and I only ever raised my voice if people asked me to speak louder, but my mind would not allow me to reach my arms out to the lord. I found out very soon that Hell was very real and very easy to get into because of that.

For six months i was in my room having the same dream over and over again. I couldn’t move or speak and i kept seeing that shadow at my feet just staring at me. I had that feeling you get when you think someone is following you or staring at you even though you’re not facing them. I never saw his eyes but I could feel them piercing through my soul. I never got a good glimpse of him at all. Each time I tried, I fell back to sleep, but one night I woke up before I had my dream. There I saw a man in a black suit staring at me; grabbing my ankles with his cold hands . The moon illuminated the room enough to make out his rat like features smiling at me. The first month I would lay there terrified until I would eventually black out.

I don’t remember eating in those six months. In fact I don’t remember anything at all. The only memories I have were of him. I think that was what he wanted though. He wanted me to give into him completely. He didn’t want me to remember what being outside that room was like, or the familiar faces that were once part of my everyday life. The first two months in that room were a blur. There were vague thoughts of the memories with my family, but they eventually left. I can only truly remember seeing his rat-like face staring at me everyday, and then disappearing to fill the whole room with his presence. Those memories are clear, just the way he wanted it.

 By the third month he had begun to speak to me. Every day he complimented me, attempting to gain my trust, and every single day I trusted him more. He told me how much better I was than everyone else, how talented I was and how I was destined for greatness. He believed in me and wanted to make me better. “I can help you succeed. All you have to do is let me in,” he would say. Every single time I heard his low tempting voice I became more indulged in the idea of myself.

 Never in my life had things gone the way they should have. I never met my parents. My mother died when I was three days old and I never bothered to ask about my dad. I just figured he had died too. I started to get more and more attached to the rat-like man with the cold hands. His presence would almost overpower the love of the only family I knew. He became my family, my creator, my protector, and my teacher.

By the fifth month he began to re-teach me things that I had learned long ago. The man would eventually persuade me to believe that everything that I was exposed to in catechism was a lie. I realised that with the help of the man with the cold hands my life would become so much easier. I did not need food or water. I did not need air to breathe. All I needed was him and his guidance. He was my daily wine and bread. 

Towards the end of the fifth month he began to call me Lucia, but I never understood why. He would say, “No one loves you but me, Lucia”, and assured me that he was the only one that cared. I always believed him, but sometimes he would get out of hand and make me stare into his eyes. Those ominous black eyes.

One night, after five months had past, I had a very different dream. The dream was nothing like the routine one where I fell off a trampoline or I was running and I just fell. My dream felt so much more real than that. My grandma was in my room speaking to me in spanish. She was telling me to wake up. She kept trying to wake me, but I couldn’t move and all I could see were the creases near her eyes fill with tears of pain. When I woke up a tear rolled down my face. I hadn’t thought about her in months. I searched the dark room hoping to find my grandmother, but all I found was the man with the cold hands sitting at the foot of my bed. He smiled at me and I half smiled back at him. I looked over to my calendar that I hadn’t looked at in months, and to my surprise found out that it was my grandmother’s birthday.

“What’s the matter, Lucia?”, he asked chuckling. “I was wondering if maybe I could leave my room today to spend the day with my grandmother, father. If I could just leave my room to wish her-” and he interrupted me grabbing me by the shoulders, snarling, “Who do you think you are little girl, you’re here for a reason and for one reason only and that’s for me.” “But I want to see my grandmother!” “Your grandmother doesn’t want to see you, don’t you understand?! She doesn’t love you. You are a burden to her and she only kept you because no one else wanted you!” I pulled away from his grip, “No! That’s not true,” I cried, resisting because I knew my grandma loved me and wanted me with her. His eyes grew wide and he started yelling, “Your father doesn’t want you! Your mother didn’t want you and that’s why she left you at your grandmother’s doorstep! Mommy didn’t die, she left you! That cow died on the road trying to escape you and your stupid grandmother!” “STOP”, I yelled pushing him away. His face was more sinister than usual. I never actually minded what he looked like, it was more about how he made me feel, but now he had tainted the memory of my parents and the only family I had ever known. He left my room and closed the door behind him. I heard the click of the lock and my heart dropped all the way down to my stomach. A lump began to form in my throat. It made my anger much harder to swallow, and the dam that held back my tears had finally burst.

Six months. I was trapped in my room for six months. It wasn’t until the priest successfully woke me up, and I was lucid, that I had realised that the dreams I had been having were just me attempting to wake up from the nightmare that my grandmother had been living. Every time that I dreamt about myself falling was me flinging myself from my bed and fighting off this...this monster. “Maria, por favor mantente con nosotros!”, my grandmother begged, telling me that they were going to save me and to stay with her. “Grandma, what’s happening to me?” I cried. I only lasted fifteen minutes until I completely lost control of my body again and my sight went black.

Suddenly I was back in my room with the man I once thought was my savior. “Who are you?”, I asked. He looked at me and smiled, but said nothing. “Why am I here?” “You sure ask a lot of questions after six months, don’t you? What’s the problem now?” He made a good point, I hadn’t really complained until then. “I just want to go home,” I pleaded,“ please let me go home.” “Don’t you understand Lucia, you’re already home.” he said as he opened my door about to leave. “That’s my exit,” I thought. I  zoomed right past him and ran down the hall. The house was freezing. I had expected fire and blood everywhere, but everything was icy.. Suddenly my foot got caught in something and I fell to the cold hard floor of the hallway that seemed to be never ending. I turn around and saw that it was him! He had my foot in his razor blade imbedded hands. I screamed, trying to pull away, but every time I did I could feel my skin ripping from the blades and the cold floor didn't help, adding to my pain. He dragged me closer to face him. “You belong to meee!” he hissed. He kept saying me that I “couldn’t escape this” and that this was my “destiny”, so I took the opportunity to jab him in the face with my elbow while he blabbered about my future, freeing me of his grip. 

I ran, limping and hoping that the frigid floor would numb the pain from the gashes on my feet. Finally in the distance at the end of the mile long hall were two doors. One of the two doors led to my freedom, I assumed, but you know what happens when you assume. That’s right! A demon shows up at the end of the hallway blocking the door you were planning to take. “Where do you think you’re going? Behind this door is heaven, my dear Lucia, and doubters like you aren’t allowed in the house of God. Your grams here just offered herself to me to save your pathetic life. This isn’t your door. Your exit is the door on the right, it goes back to your real room.” He had my grandmother in his arms with one of his bladed hands slowly piercing her neck, “Grandma! No! Please, I’ll do anything, just let her go! You can have me” I pleaded. “Don’t be silly, I’m not taking her body. I’m just going to kill her, so you have no one left in the world.” My grandmother looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed.“Kill me. Instead of her, kill me, just let her go.” “As you wish, just remember, your soul belongs to me. For eternity.” He opens the right door and pushes my grandma into my room where I see a priest looking over my now limp body, and then slams the door before she could say her goodbye. “Now what?” I said. “Now you can go through the left door, Lucia.” “What? What are you talking about? I just gave you my soul, I should be in hell.” “Gabriel will explain.” He said as he pushed me through the left door. 

“Where am I?” I couldn’t see through the fogginess of my eyesight. “You’re at your funeral, Maria”, a voice said.  “But, why?” I asked, “just listen.” sighed a man whom I assumed to be Gabriel.The fog suddenly clears and I’m at my church listening to Father Manuel give mass to a group of schoolkids, my teachers, the usuals from church and my Grandmother. 

“By the seventh day God completed His work which He had done,and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made...We are here to mourn the death of Maria Villanueva. Maria was in a terrible situation and fought very hard for sixth months, and on this seventh month she will finally rest in piece. We will forever keep her in our hearts.”

“Why am I watching my funeral?” “Because I want you to see that people did care about you and what you did for six months was selfish. You had the choice to say no to that demon at the beginning, but you gave in.” “I didn’t know what he was!” I said defending myself. “It doesn’t matter. This didn’t just start seven months ago, Maria, it all started two years ago when you lost your faith. You started ignoring and taking your grandmother for granted, and so she let you, because she thought you didn’t care anymore. You lost faith in God, so God lost faith in you, making it easier for that demon to get to you.” “I still don’t get it though, why do I get to go to heaven?” He looked at me and smiled, and instead of feeling startled like I always did when the demon smiled at me, it felt as if my chest had overflowed with happiness. He spoke, “I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance...You made the ultimate sacrifice, Maria. You repented and you gave your life for your grandmother. And so, you may be allowed into the kingdom of God.” 

We walked out of the church and the light gleamed enough to blind me for a few seconds. When my vision returned I was back at my grandmother’s house, except everything was brighter. It had been my home for seventeen years, and it was the happiest place I could imagine. I hope to one day see my abuela here, maybe not for a while, but I do miss her everyday.