Light Drifters by Adrian M. Bran

 

Writing inspired by the following SWC prompt:

The Tunnel
It goes on an on. Long, dark, narrow, cutting through a hillside or deep under the earth. Is it natural or modern-made? And where does it lead?

Light Drifters

by Adrian M. Bran

 

Quick! Quick! There’s some kind of tunnel there, he said. It might not be comfortable, but it’s certainly better than facing the storms!

We already felt light electricity caressing our hands, connecting us to the crowded skies. We rushed through the cave mouth like it was the warm, cosy door to a hotel room. A small hideout was all we needed, and this gateway appeared right on time.

Certainly better? We must be completely out of our minds!

It took us a couple of hours to realise how wrong he was. The storm closed the only entrance and we were left wandering through the watered lava tubes. On and on we went, covered with dirty sweat, and carrying backpacks full of water and insects. The tiny flashlights offered us just enough light to carve path through the endless spiderwebs. Hungry and exhausted, marching directionless, the labyrinth was slowly wearing us down, peeling us layer by layer.

Seriously better?

It’s not like I expected to spend our vacation sun-soaking in our snug retreat, but a cold, muddy cave was not what I signed up for. Each rock and each spider rendered us vulnerable and powerless, dragging us one inch closer to the abyss. Those tiny sandwiches barely kept us afloat.

Things will only get better, right? There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel!

We left our daughter with a babysitter to walk through the woods, ending up in this endless tunnel. Silent screams were crawling inside me. Each step felt heavier, challenging, and almost impossible. We were paralysed. At least she was in trusted hands, but the simple idea that I might, that we might, never see her again was unbearable. We were steadily falling apart.

Definitely better! Not that anything could ever go wrong in a long, dark cave like this one!

My hands were getting reddish after cutting through so many dusty spiderwebs. The water bottles were nearly empty, even though the night was young. The air was stale, warm, and full of dazzling particles. Tiny little glowing dots swirling in the air. It felt like we were breathing entire worlds. Colonies of light drifters morphed in and out of our bodies, turning into vibrant colours. Reddish, green and blue dots paint our skins like quick allergic reactions. A festival of lights, but no response within our bodies. This was difficult to process.

Obviously, better! Our daughter and her babysitter were waiting for us at our summer place, and luminous dots invaded our bodies.

Playful dots, but body snatchers nonetheless. Despite my green eyes, he started to call me my red-eyed one, as if we were in some Bob Dylan song. It was not the best way to find out those light drifters had changed the colour of my eyes. There was no reason not to yell, except that my love read somewhere that we risk attracting predators. Even so, I felt the need to shout with my entire being. I was starting to hate the drifting light bugs.

Evidently better! One wrong step and the end!

Cause what else could go wrong the moment these light drifters realise I don’t want them in me, on me, or anywhere near me? My mouth was dry, and my tongue was heavy, clinging to the roof of the mouth. I was convinced the dots would kill me, so I fought my desire to yell by running variations on the same topic in my head. Luckily, I was barely able to breathe. Each step felt huge.

Better? Right? What could go wrong?

We ran out of oxygen when we arrived at the first sunlit crater. There was no way we could ascend to the top. We were not climbers. Our backpacks hardly had the necessary tools. Some Swiss knives, flashlights, matches, and shirts will not cut it this time. My beloved’s face lightened when he noticed a subtle change in their behaviour. Standing at the bottom of the crater, surrounded by light, the dotty drifters were slowly fading, as if they were returning to the light they craved.

Necessarily better?

Even if necessity was the last thing on our mind, seeing these little dots dissolving into the light felt good. It gave us some hope, some warmth. But then there was still the challenge of climbing this crater, made even more daunting by our lack of gear. Was it doable? We went out for a casual stroll through the woods, not for some climbing competition. Even the narrow paths carved through the lava tubes were difficult for us. Getting lost in a volcano was certainly not on our to-do list! Not that such things were on anyone’s list. But sure, with the proper outfit and training, it could have been a fun trip. This one was not it.

Dots. Fungi. Little light drifters. Spores. Aliens. Spirits. Whatever they were, they were making me dizzy – flickering, dancing and toying with my senses. Hovering out of reach, teasing and nudging me as if they were whispering in some ancient pattern language.

Just hang in there; things will be better, okay?

It was my man’s voice this time. Really? Hang in there? As if it was that simple!

Hang on! There’s got to be something to hang on to. But there wasn’t! And the fresh air had the opposite effect. Instead of helping me recover my clarity, it felt like swimming in the angry ocean, with rising panic and tangled waves of doubts hitting me on and on.

Stop right there! Better stop right there!

Again, his voice. I couldn’t even tell the difference!

We’re in the second crater. Stop for a moment and take a breath! The dots will go away. Just breathe deeply, and let them go!

Let them go!

I could barely hear him.

Let them …

You will feel better afterwards — hardly any sounds. Merely whispers, as if a wall crept between us.

Let …

Nothingness. Just little dots getting everywhere, through me and around me. Waves of emotions. Tiny light drifters crawling up the cave wall without any sound. Just a deeply soothing silence.

So, things were getting better? Why was I so confused?

His face was all red. He looked angry and helpless. Didn’t he just say everything’s going to be okay? Why was he so upset? And why was he still full of light buggers?

His entire body is a rainbow. Red. Green. Yellow. Blue. Gray.

Was my love okay?

Take a deep breath and smile at the sun! That’s all … need! You’re going to be … in a couple of …

Was it his voice or mine? I decoupled. Everything turned white.

The big nothing.

Just better? Okay?

I woke up in his arms several minutes later.

I thought I lost you there! Are you feeling better?

There? What was he talking about?

When I looked around, I found myself lying on our outdoor blanket just a few feet from our car.

I’ll give you better! There’s nothing better than the sun in the middle of summer!

I wanted to scream, to tell him I’d never go to the mountains again, but I couldn’t! I was too tired, too numb.

But is it better? Do I feel better?

It took a while — a couple of hours and a lot of water. I eventually recovered. The sun helped. The warmth of our beloved light giver was all I needed in vacation.
I spent the rest of the day in the hospital chasing little coloured dots.

Finally better!

Back to our rented home the next day, my husband smiled at me. He took our daughter in his arms, hugged and kissed her on the cheek. He then turned around, looked at me straight-faced, and simply asked:

What’s going on? Is that a light dot on your face?

He touched my face as if to remove a bug. I froze. Light bug? Here?

Is it gone? I asked him.

He smiled.

Care to tell me a story? How did we manage to escape?

Oh, that was easy, he said. The exit was close to the second crater. Not quite sure how we missed it the first time around.

He hugged and kissed me too. Then he took our daughter to play in the garden.

The little light drifters lingered on my mind as if they were still there. Waiting. Wandering.

I walked around aimlessly for a few minutes, stopped in front of the mirror, and quickly inspected my face. There was nothing. Not even a light dot. No light drifter. Perhaps they remained in those dark caves, patiently waiting for their next hosts. They passed through us as if we weren’t even there, playful, bright, and carefree.

Something else was growing inside me now. A warm river. A fever of some sort, perhaps. The warmth of the morning sun makes me feel better. A lot better.

Infinitely better!