Of Solar And Dark (2018)

5 [E]

Edward Kenning

When the lights outside dim to a hue that is barely visible, I make my way out of the apartment. The musty smell of newspapers older than me and dirt, which usually causes Teddy to catastrophise, dominates the narrow hallways with their weakly flickering light bulbs.

Drawing my jacket tighter over my hunched body, I keep my eyes on the ground. A cold sensation wraps itself around my lungs when I finally step out of the apartment. The night air is definitely better than the trapped oxygen which barely circulates in the apartment but it doesn't mean I'll start loving the darkness.

Lying to my mother about Teddy and where I was headed was so easy, it makes me give the apartment a couple of quick glances as I make my way to the Plaza.
I told her that I was going for a job interview which required all those considered to go through a boot camp and that Teddy was curious about it. Truth be told, it's a wonder she bought the tale that I concocted.

But it doesn't matter now. I'm going off to find out who really killed my father which is not something that really matters to my mother, anyway.

At night, our part of Atlanta feels as we have been shrouded in darkness entirely. It's a terrible feeling- wanting to see the light and draw close but realising that there is only emptiness- uninviting and cold. The darkness waits for no one and cares for none. The only light source is the moonlight, the weak yellow rays straining to flare along the ground, creating soft ripples as my shadow inclines, in par with my footsteps.

Darkness and death and shadows and death.

Solars and Darks are at high risk of waging war on each other. The length of which daylight is available to us Solars has been greatly affected because of all the dark energy pollution and it's the same with the Darks. So if anything, I don't think that it's the Resistance which captured the Solars but the Darks themselves. They run a really loose monarchy, as opposed to our stable democratic goverment and their side of Atlanta, from what i have heard, is a huge mess.

Here, the winding streets that twist and curve are illuminated with a glow. It's a maze of lights in the day and a comfort, a defence mechanism in the night. Even in the coldest winter nights, the electricity keeps humming strongly, feeding the street lights with a bubble of yellow, colouring the ground below and the surroundings around.

Solar energy. There really is no way to describe how I feel whenever I am in the presence of such a marvellous energy. The way the energy almost resonates with my body, humming along to the beat of my heart and sending pinpricks of warmth flooding through my systems. It's lucid dreaming.

As a howl tears through the night, I quicken my pace and try to keep the sound of my breaths as soft as possible though the faster I propel my body forward, the harsher the breaths prod along the lining of my lungs.

Predators of the night are rarely daunted by
the solar energy that breathes flames of yellow and orange into the curved bulb of street lamps. Their night vision is strong and when they make a move, it's difficult to even realise you have became a target 'till you're lying on the floor, dead.
Most predators feed of the solar energy that we Solars thrive on, that sends the pusles of our hearts through our body. And I can't imagine living without that familiar, comforting beat. Without the fluctuation of solar energy racing through my veins and finding destination in my heart, lungs and muscles.

Realising that I'm vulnerable without any weapons or partner, I negin to pick up speed and eventually break into a run as the paranoia gets to me, images of night predators clawing me to pieces and lunging at my face, tearing my body to shreds until it is beyond recognition.

Driven by fear, I reach the Plaza in good time. I slip through the entrance, anxious to get away from external environment and when I think I am finally safe, I let my body slump into a position that resolves the derivation of oxygen from my lungs.