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Page 54 text:
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The Dark Night (A short story by Margaret Loewen grade X) boy hurried down the dark road, toward the dark house which awaited him. He shivered as he thought of it. It would always be dark now; no light would shine from the windows waiting to welcome him. Maybe there would be a lodger tonight, like there had been the other night. As if to oblige the boy’s subconscious thoughts, a loud knock disturbed the silence just after Tom was clearing away the last remains of his meagre supper. Tom opened, the door. “The man at the station said I might be able to find room for the night here,” said the man outside. Tom nodded and replied, “The whole house is empty.” The stranger stepped inside and closed the door. He set down his suitcase and removed his hat. “It’s a cold night and a dark town,” he said. Tom shrugged his shoulders. It was always dark here at night. ‘You’d better take the bedroom next to the kitchen,” said Tom. “The rest of the house is cold. I sleep there.” He pointed to a cot beside the stove. “You’re kind of young to be living by yourself, aren’t you?” asked the man curiously. “I’ve been managing for two years,” answered Tom shortly. An understanding smile lighted the stranger’s pleasant features. “It’s lonely, isn’t it?” The question caught Tom off guard. “I don’t mind the loneliness,” he replied quickly, “It’s the darkness!” “The darkness?” Tom nodded nervously, clenching his fists. “Every night I come home to a dark house. No lights are on; it’s always dark.” The man waited for Tom to continue. Tom licked his lips. “That night all the lights were off. The house was always bright before. The kitchen light was always burning when I came home. But that night ... it was dark. Why did she have to die in the dark?” The question was almost a cry of anguish from the boy. He covered his face with his hands. The two of them sat motionless for a time. Then the stranger turned toward the boy. “Why don’t you move out if the darkness bothers you? Find some place in the centre of town. Here, all by yourself. . . .” “I couldn’t!” said Tom quickly. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’m the only one to take care of it.” “Why don’t you sell it?” asked the man kindly. Tom shook his head. “It’s my home. She made me promise that I’d take care of it.” The wind howled around the house in the darkness outside. Tom rose and poked another piece of wood into the stove. The stranger watched his movements. His eyes seemed to see another being in the figure standing at the stove. “Son,” he said suddenly, “You’ll find darkness all over if you don’t look for the light.” Tom turned. “What do you mean?” “Your mother,” said the stranger, “she was your light, wasn’t she?” Tom nodded slowly, unwilling to confide in a stranger. “When her light went out you were left in darkness,” the man continued, “but you can’t fear the darkness, young man, you can’t hold on to it. There’s light in the world; there are a lot of people. Your life can’t be lived in solitude.” Tom bit hard on his lower lip. “Mister,” he said tersely, “you just leave me alone. I can get along fine by myself. I don’t need any people to help me.” The stranger nodded. “Your mother didn’t need any people either, did she?” Tom swallowed hard. “My mother had her family. That was all she needed. They . . . they wouldn’t have helped her anyway!” “Why not, son?” asked the stranger. “Why wouldn’t they help her?” “She didn’t need help,” said Tom proudly with tears in his eyes. “She could do everything by herself. She didn’t need anyone “But she died in the dark,” said the stranger slowly. “Why can’t you leave things alone?” cried Tom, “why can’t you leave things alone?” The stranger rose from his chair. “I think I’ll go to bed. Will you call me at seven?” Tom nodded silently, staring hard at the floor. He remained thus for awhile. He thought of the time when his mother had still been alive, the time when she had been his whole life, his whole existence. Then the dark night had come when the foundation of his life had crumbled beneath him. His security had been swept away and had left him alone and crying in the darkness. He had reached out, reached out for the dead; but he was living and he had to go on alone. At that instant he faced his choice. The alternative lay before him. There were other people in the world to whom he could turn for help. His mind groped blindly for the truth. His mother was gone, but her spirit still seemed to remain with him. It was almost as though she were right beside him with all her security and all her comfort. Tom raised his head and walked over to the table where the lamp was burning. He blew it out. Then he turned around and faced the darkness, alone. 52
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