Dark Corners

Ever since she was a child, Alice had been scared of the dark. At the age of 9, it wasn’t all that uncommon; but now that she was in her mid 20’s, it was both debilitating and embarrassing.

The fear had grown with age, giving her a life riddled with daily little terrors to navigate through:she didn’t stand next to dark rooms; she only went out during the day; and she kept her houselights on all the time. All this to avoid the risk of absentmindedly walking into a patch of darkness.

Her condition had left a slew of doctors, therapists, and new age-gurus confounded, each failing in their effort to cure her. She even tried to tackle the problem on her own, by gradually acclimating herself to the dark. But that didn’t work either. Every time the room began to cast a shadow, her body trembled and she immediately abandoned the effort.

Eventually, she just gave up. She decided to make the most of her life as a reverse vampire. Until…

“Did you call him, Alice?” Jenny asked.

“Trust me Jenny, I’ve tried it all before. Nothing works.”

“Just give him a call. I’m telling you… he’s no joke. I haven’t had a cigarette in two months… not even a goddamned craving.”

“Are you serious? The only time I’ve ever seen you without a cigarette is when you come out of the shower.”

“I know! Hypnotherapy. Trust me. Just make an appointment. What else do you have to lose?” “What the hell… why not. At least it will make for another good story, right?”

Alice called and scheduled an appointment. While on the phone, she gave the doctor specific instructions on office lighting protocol. She warned him that she’d been chased away from therapy sessions in the past because of poor lighting. The doctor reassured her. Then he took down some insurance information and asked her some questions about where she lived and what her house looked like. When she asked why he needed to know, he told her it was all relevant to the therapy.

Alice arrived for the session early and peered into the window of his street level brownstone office. Watching the doctor’s silhouette through the curtains, she waited for the lights in the room to reach their brightest before ringing the doorbell.

The doctor greeted her cordially and told her to lie on the couch. He took out a pocket watch and whispered soothing commands while waving it back and forth in front of her eyes. She eventually dozed off. The snap of a finger brought her back from her slumber, and the doctor told her that the session was over.

“It’s funny, I don’t feel any different.”

“You won’t sense anything yet,” the doctor replied. “The commands I gave you will work gradually on your subconscious, so that I can monitor improvements slowly.”

How slowly?” Alice asked.

The doctor smiled, “Slow is a relative word. I’m confident you’ll be free of this terrible condition by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

Alice perked up. She was elated, but cautiously so: she had been down this path many times before.

“I want you to go home tonight and wait until 7:30pm,” he continued, “after the full weight of my commands have taken effect. Go into your living room and try dimming the lights halfway, then walk through to the other side. Once there, call me on my cell phone and let me know how you feel. I’ll be able to make any adjustments remotely, if necessary.”

Once she got home, she began to pace with anticipation. She stared at the clock as minutes marked out moments of eternity. After about an hour, she realized she hadn’t paid attention to the lights… at all! for an hour she was oblivious to how bright the room was. This had never happened before. A surge of optimism enveloped her.

At 7:30, she rushed to the living room. There were two dimmers that controlled lights. She lowered one of them halfway and was shocked when her body did not react with baited breath and dry heaves. She lowered the second dimmer until it was level with the first, and the room grew darker. But Alice remained completely at ease.

She took a step forward and looked around the room. The shadows she’d been avoiding her entire life were right in front of her now, and it was a strange thing to behold. But there was no fear, just curiosity.

She reached to the side and dimmed the lights a little lower. The shadows grew as the corners the room got darker. She walked inside and stepped in between patches of darkness on the floor, avoiding contact with anything that wasn’t illuminated. When she got to the other side of the room she turned around to admire her progress. She was underneath the chandelier, marveling at the pockets of darkness that littered the floor, each like mines on a battlefield that she had just casually sidestepped. She was beaming with pride.

But then she noticed something odd. The illuminated path she had taken was now pockmarked with shadows, and they were growing. The room was getting dimmer, with whole swaths of

black now covering the hardwood floor beside her feet. While weak patches of light still remained, they were barely within jumping distance of where Alice stood.

She tried to walk back towards the entrance but as soon as she moved her foot to take a step, she sensed a cold breeze coming from the darkness below her. It was as if the shadows had broken through the floor and created a path spiraling downward into nonexistence. Any step forward would be a loss of sure footing. She felt trapped on the small island of light cast by the overhead chandelier.

Then she saw a hand come out from behind the wall. The fingers ran along the side until they reached the twin switches that controlled Alice’s fate, lowering both simultaneously by a half inch. A moment later a man appeared. He stepped in front of the threshold to Alice’s living room and paused there deliberately, smiling. It was a man Alice recognized from earlier in the day: he was wearing an overcoat, thin glasses, and a brimmed hat.

“Doctor… What are you doing here? I don’t understand?”

“Of course you don’t Alice, of course you don’t. But think for a moment and it will all become clear.”

Alice gave him a puzzled look, her body frozen still within the sliver of light that encapsulated her.

“This is always my favorite part,” the doctor said. Alice froze.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he said, “it has nothing to do with treatment. My intentions are not as pure.”

Alice began to tremble.

“It’s really simple,” he continued, waiving his hand so that it hovered dangerously close to the light switch. “All of my patients come to me broken, their minds and bodies tortured by some fixation they can’t get rid of. Sometimes it’s just a simple addiction; but those aren’t as much fun to play with. But the one’s that turn minor inconveniences into catastrophic dilemmas, those are the ones I like best.

He lowered the switch by another inch.

“But its not all fun and games, Alice. I take my work very seriously. I do fix them Alice, I fix them all… eventually. But not before I have my way with them.”

Alice wanted to scream for help but her vocal chords would not open.
“A little trick of mine, to keep things discreet. Wouldn’t want to scare the neighbors.”

Alice’s eyes welling up with tears.

“Oh, don’t be sad sweet Alice, you won’t remember a thing. You may have moments when you feel something out of nowhere; a chill, a sharp pain, or a deep sorrow. But there will only be emotions; the memories themselves will all be gone… and so will I. But you’ll be cured. After all, I am here to help.”

Alice remained paralyzed, incapacitated by both the imaginary fear of the darkness surrounding her and the very real threat that stood before of her.

“Now, sweet Alice,” the doctor whispered, “what to do with you? So scared, so pretty, so vulnerable?”

He took a step forward and smiled. Then another. Then a third…

The last one sent him tumbling downward, sinking into the eternal darkness of the shadows beneath, the echoes of his screams quickly fading into nothingness. Then there was nothing but silence.

Out of a dark patch on the floor something familiar came up to the surface: A rabbit, wearing a monocle, a top hat, and a waistcoat. In his right hand, he held the doctor’s pocket watch; in his left, a small walking stick. He hopped up onto the small patch of light where Alice stood, and flipped the pocket watch cover open. He studied the time and then plunged the watch back into his waistcoat pocket. He smiled at Alice and then bobbed his head up and down, sizing her up from head to toe and then back again:

“Oh my — you’ve grown!” said the rabbit. “And it looks like I’m late for tea again.

“Well then, so be it. One never knows what to expect when travelling through a rabbit hole; but we make due with we’re given. Isn’t that right old friend?”

The rabbit’s voice was moderately pitched, with a playful tone that was much friendlier than when they’d first met. A wave of childhood memories broke through her subconscious and flooded her senses like a tidal wave: the sight, sound, and smell of all she’d forgotten was as clear to her now as it was when she was 9.

Alice smiled, and then greeted the rabbit with a curtsy. He replied with a bow; to which she chuckled, pinching his cheek and planting a shy kiss on the tip of his nose.

The rabbit blushed and continued,

“We will, of course, save a spot for you at the table, if ever you decide to join us. In the meantime, we’ll just take care of your friend, the doctor. It appears he’s oddly sensible… much too sensible — his mind makes entirely too much sense. But we’ll fix that. We will fix him for sure. Now… off I go pretty one… off I go.”

The Rabbit jumped back down the hole as Alice waved goodbye. Then she laughed, her face beaming with all the beauty that rational insanity brings with it. She waived her hand once more, this time in a dismissive gesture which caused the darkness in front of her to recede and the ground to return. The shadows were hers to play with now; whenever she wished. They would never torment her again; nor would anyone else for that matter.

She skipped out of the living room, and up the stairs to the attic. It was time to dust off the old looking glass and see what wonderful things waited on the other side. Just a peek of course.

Or…
Maybe…
a quick visit…

Perhaps dinner with the red queen? Or was it the white queen’s turn?