writing | Black Abyss

A day spent ruminating on something before I let it go like dust to the wind.

My mood hangs heavy. A shadow creeps over until I’m smothered. Noises echo until they become a silent scream.

Sometimes I try to fight it, and sometimes I let it smother me until I can’t focus on anything else. Either way, the end is the same. Headaches, sleepless nights, and thoughts swirling around like spindrifts in the snow.

I passed a guy sitting down on a quiet street, away from the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers.

He was slumped over, a large black ill-fitting overcoat draped over his shoulders, keeping out the cold bite in the air. In his hands, he clutched an old harmonica like it was his most precious possession. The glasses he wore had an arm missing, and his woolly hat was pulled up to the top of his scalp, showing an ugly red cut. The skin was purple from bruising, and dried blood dried caked across his forehead.

I kept walking. Then stopped and walked back.

I knelt slowly so as not to alarm him. I gently touched his arm, rousing him from whatever slumber he was in.

“you ok?” I asked.

“yeah” he smiled, teeth like gnarly tree stumps, eyes squinting and black.

“what about that cut on your forehead?”

“it was a wee scuffle” still smiling. White flecks in the two-week-old stubble patching his face.

“you sure you’re ok? that cut needs cleaning up”

“yeah, I’ll be fine” the smile widened further. Showing me more of those teeth.

“you go get that checked and cleaned ok? and take care”

“ok, will do” and he returned to his slumber.

I sit on the bus. The low winter sun is shining on my face, spreading warmth. I shut my eyes and imagine I’m somewhere tropical. A beach. Waves lap like clockwork on the shoreline. A clear blue sea. Small fish darting around.

The fog lifts and the echoes gently subside.

My head is like a delicate ecosystem. One wrong word or action throws it off balance. Like rocks tumbling down into some black abyss.