Bright . . . light . . . hurts . . . eyes
Filed under Writing Journal on January 3, 2005
Tagged: Maiden of Pain
He rubbed his weary eyes, trying to coax one more drop of moisture out of overtaxed tear ducts to soothe the dry and aching orbs. Sitting back in his leather chair, bathed in the soft glow of the twenty-one inch monstrosity he’d been chained to for the last two weeks, he waited for the impact of what had just happened to settle in. With the touch of a key, it was done, finished and gone. Perhaps the lack of sleep was hampering his comprehension.
A distant buzzing reached his ears as he sat there. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized that it had been there all along; he had just learned to screen it out as he labored. Now, it demanded his attention. He struggled out of the chair, his cramped muscles protesting the sudden use, his body resisting any command other than sleep. Stumbling down the hall, he tried to focus on the sound. It grew as he neared, becoming more distinctive. It was coming from outside. He stood before the front door, hesitant and fearful of what he might see if he opened the portal.
In the end, he could not deny the call.
Throwing open the door, he was blasted by light and sound. He threw his hands up defensively and squinted against the offending brilliance. When the glare finally softened, he looked out upon a silent mass of waiting and eager faces.
“It is done!” he cried, throwing his hands to the sky. As if in answer, a host of angelic voices rang out, a crescendo of exultation that faded as soon as it appeared. The crowd cheered.
“Thank you for your patience and support,” he said as the clapping died down. “I’m going to go take a shower now.” He turned around and went back inside, closing the door behind him.
