I’m surrounded by darkness. The only light is the one illuminating my face, coming from the flashlight I use to read a book. Despite my dark surroundings the book I am reading is not a horror story but a love story. A love story, I will never be able to write. Such deep, passionate passages, such raw emotion is something I can only ever dream of being able to capture. You see, I am a writer in a deep slump. It has nothing to do with the darkness or the fact that my dirty clothes are in piles as high as hills that thankfully can’t be seen thanks to my choice of darkness. This is the last thing I want anyone to see if someone decides to drop by although I have a magical solution to that. The darkness is the key thing, as well as the drapes for the windows. No one should see that anyone is at home and I have long since stopped answering the doorbell should anyone dare try to visit me. Not that anyone has any reason to….
As soon as I finished that thought, the doorbell rings. So typical, I’m not just a writer but my life is often like a script. I say something and it immediately happens, not the good things though just the opposite.
But they will soon see that their attempt is futile. I will not open my fortress, for anyone.
However, despite my wish, the doorbell keeps on ringing and could just as well be the bells of hell, if they have any. This wretched sound vibrates inside my skull, my breath becomes shallow and I think I am going to pass out.
Can’t they just leave?
The doorbell keeps on ringing.
Leave me alone.
For some strange reason I can feel that I must answer the bell, that is in fact something that will change my life forever. As I have said before, my life often resembles a script, a corny one, but I often learned that the best thing is to follow my instinct. As soon as I have made that decision my breathing gets back to normal, though my heart rate is still fast as ever.
I put the book down and slowly open the door a crack, as I am expecting the Spanish inquisition.
In the sudden brightness of the outside world, I see a young man, about my age. He smiles as if he has no worries in the world and his eyes are the kindest ones I have ever seen, even though they are partly hidden in the shadow of his cap. He is holding a pizza box.
I get a little bit irritated that this was in fact nothing life changing, just a pizza delivery guy getting lost. Oh well the unnecessary excitement was a little bit of fun and I must admit that he is kinda cute, though I wish that I had put on my best attire instead of being in my bathrobe. My filthy, unwashed bathrobe. What must that man be thinking about me? But he can’t judge, he doesn’t know what I have been through, the battles I have had to face and lost. Thus have to retreat into my fortress of darkness where I belong. Out of sight.
I stutter, after a long staring contest, that this is the wrong address. The pizza guy gets flustered, but quickly reclaims his smile and thanks for the correction, excuses himself and leaves.
I close the door and have only gotten a few steps back into my apartment when the doorbell rings again. What now! Can’t they just leave me in peace? I am not hurting anyone.
I open up the door once again and to my surprise the pizza guy has returned.
“No one’s home. Must’ve been a prank call.”
I am confused over the fact he had returned to me to deliver the bad news as if I were his boss or something. Does he want me to pay instead?
“What rotten luck on my first day! Oh, well, just wanted to let you know.” He smiles and is about to leave but as his words reminded me of myself his first day, I decide to help him.
His gaze is full of surprise, wonder and then suddenly joy.
“No use having your first delivery, ending in total failure. Believe me, I know everything there is about failing. I mean about being a failure….” I stop in mid-sentence and hurriedly hand him the cash, take the pizza box and close the door on him. From my window I can see him standing bewildered on my doorstep, but then he walks to the car and drives away.
I exhale of relief. That was close. I draw a notebook from my bathrobe. The touch of the pen burns my fingers. I cry.
I have no idea about the passage of time, but some time must have passed since the not fateful encounter. A raging storm is outside, everyone has been asked to stay indoors so the usually busy streets are as empty as a desert railway. I am alone in the dark. The roof is about to crack judging from the noise so I hide inside a blanket and start hyperventilating. I feel dizzy, I am pretty sure my last hour is upon me when I am startled from my thought by a familiar sound.
Is that the doorbell? Who could be outside in this crazy weather?
I open the door and to my amazement the pizza guy is the one standing outside.
“Another prank call. Can you believe it? I fell for it again!” He says apologetically.
Was he expecting me to pay for another pizza? I knew I shouldn’t have shown any act of kindness, it always ends up biting me in the ass.
“I have no money.” I say in a frosty voice.
His smile doesn’t falter for a minute. “No, you misunderstand. I’m buying.”
It takes a while for me to understand what he means, but at last, I invite him into my once impregnable fortress, closing the door on the storm.
We dine together, sitting opposite from each other in the living room and talk about everything. If I didn’t know any better I would think we had known each other our whole lives, instead of just being total strangers who enjoy each others company in this crazy weather.
“Isn’t it funny how we writers or rather artists strive to get recognition? How our profession depends on what other people think about our work or hell, that we all crave their attention?
“You know the happiness comes from within.”
“Yes, of course I know that…but what does it really mean?”
Before he answers, he takes a seat next to me on the sofa and suddenly his eyes seem to be full of ancient wisdom.
“You shouldn’t stake our happiness on something that is beyond your capabilities, like success. You should be comfortable in your own skin.” He smiles sadly and nudges me in the shoulder like an old friend. “You know, I was once in your shoes, submerged in darkness. It gets better if you accept things the way they are and let go of the past. You deserve more, you did nothing wrong. So let go of that self-loathing and start loving yourself. You are the only one who can make yourself move forwards.”
I am too close to start bawling over these words, but before I make a total ass of myself he continues in a grave voice.
“But I won’t lie to you, there will be times that drag you back into the darkness and it’s alright to go there sometimes, just don’t get stuck there.” His radiating smile returns with a full force.
As I have no answer to such an inspirational speech the only thing I do is apologize on my neighbor’s half for yet another prank call.
My new friend gets silent all of a sudden.
“Yeah…about that, the truth is, there never was a prank call.”
I become as stunned as if I had been struck by a lightning.
“I just had to see you again.”
Me? For a moment I imagine that my bathrobe has changed into a dress worthy of Cinderella.
The storm is no more.
“Well, see you around.” He stands up and walks to the door, the apartment is filled with sunshine and the birds start singing. A total opposite from the returning darkness in my soul.
“Wait! How can I meet you again?”
“Just try ordering a pizza. And thanks again, you saved my life. From the storm I mean.” He winks at me and closes the door. A tiny piece of light is left behind.
And you saved me…from the storm in my heart.
I decide to order pizzas a lot more.
Becoming Writer 2016 Anniversary Contest 