Small Bursts Of Darkness - A Collection Of Dark Short Stories

Family Portrait

A torturous symphony of yelling and insults drifted trough the thin, pale walls, down the echoing stone stairs, through the cold, empty hall, and into the little girl's ears. She huddled in her bed, a feeling of deep foreboding sitting like a stone in her stomach, a feeling she didn't understand. She was used this, used to the words exploding from the mouths of her parents like bullets aimed for the other. She was used to this, used to being hidden in her room, her brother and sister doing the same thing, as if the door would keep the noise out. She was used to this, she told herself, trying to convince herself that this was just like every other time, that the yelling would stop and the apologies would begin and all would be forgiven and everything would go back to normal. But no matter how hard she tried to tell herself it would all be fine, she had never been a very good liar, and she could not even lie convincingly to herself. She drew her legs even closer to herself as the truth hit her with the force of a crashing wave, crushing her small body beneath its weight. She knew, even at six years old, that this time was very different, and everything was definitely not fine.

The wave continued to crush her as the shouts began to fade into low, desperate voices. However the change in volume did nothing to ease the weight that threatened to flatten her small chest. If anything, it worsened the terrible anticipation building inside her, so heavy that it threatened to destroy everything she was, dissolving her very soul into an ocean of dread and worry, washed away by the ever present weight of the crushing wave of truth that had become her world, drowning out the voices above her until they were nothing more than disjointed syllables, pressing indistinctly against her mind. Drowning out all feeling except fear.

Hidden behind the dark curtain of hair falling around her bowed head, she thought of her little family, and felt the dread inside her grow, gaining strength from the thoughts whirling around her mind. She thought of her little sister, almost 5 years old and inevitably shaking with fear and weeping the anger in her mother's voice, alone and afraid in her bedroom. She thought of her older brother, who at 7 years of age was already well acquainted with the feelings of inadequacy and of being a burden. Who even now would be trying to stay strong for his little sisters. She thought of her mother, the woman who had brought her into this world, and who she loved deeply, but who never seemed to truly notice her. Finally, she thought of her father. The one person in her family who always made time for her. The one who she cuddled with every morning before he left for work. The one who praised her for her achievements and forgave her shortcomings because he loved her unconditionally. The one person in her family that made her feel special and important, and who she could not live without.

The indistinct mumbles coming from upstairs transformed suddenly, forming into the names of the three children waiting below, the distinct voice of her father breaking halfway through. Her stomach turned painfully as she moved through the dark bedroom to meet her siblings in the echoing hallway. She willed her face into neutrality, but she knew that at six years old, she was not very skilled at hiding her emotions, and she knew her sister noticed the panic in her eyes. She saw the look reflected in her siblings' eyes, so similar to her own, yet so different, inherited from their father. She felt her heart swell with sadness at the look of pure terror in her sister's eyes, slowly reaching her hand through the space between them to grip her small, soft hand in her own, before shifting her eyes to her brother, standing slightly back from the girls, unusually still in the dark hall, his face molded into an almost unreadable mask that matched her own. A moment of silent communication passed between them before he stepped forward to take his youngest sisters hand in his own. They silently vowed to each other to try and stay strong for the little one, and for each other. Together, the three siblings started up the stairs, linked together by the unbreakable bond of family and the older siblings' promise.

A dead and ominous silence prevailed in the absence of the spiteful accusations which had previously resided within the walls, the words that still lingered in the darkness, and the footsteps of the children were tiny bursts of thunder foreshadowing the storm that drew ever closer, inevitable and unpreventable. Shadows fled from the light emerging from the open door of the living room, enticing the children with an escape from the permeating darkness that had become their home. The girl was overcome with a deep yearning to escape the dark prison they were walking through, wanted the warm light to thaw her being and wanted, more the anything, to be near her father, so that he could erase the marks that fear had drawn on her heart. Her pace hastened, the chain that connected her to her siblings stretching taut before eventually slackening once more as the other two hurried along with their sister, as unwilling as her for the chain to be broken. Finally, they broke free of the darkness, stepping through into the tense room in which their parents waited, into the room that had been split down the middle by a sea of allegations and a wall of distrust, leaving the two adults isolated on their own islands of vexation.