>>> Item number 38251 from WRITERS LOG9410B --- (116 records) ---- <<< Date: Tue, 11 Oct 1994 11:19:51 EDT Reply-To: WRITERS Sender: WRITERS From: what tink? Subject: SUB: Dark and Light for becca... as usual, late and not quite sure what to say... maybe??? tink -=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=- Dark and Light Copyright 1994 Mike Barker She screams. He called, and she wondered. "Do you think we could talk after work? I've..uh..I've heard something important." He sounded..cold and distant. But she wasn't sure, she had only known him for a little while, and they'd only done a few things together. They'd never really dated. "Sure. Anyplace special you want to go?" "No. I'll meet you at your office." "Okay, but..." "I'll see you then." The phone clicked, and she pulled it away from her ear and stared at it with a frown. Then she slowly put the handset in the cradle, letting the plastic embrace itself with a click. She screams, unheard, unseen, and so alone. She ran home. She locked the door, pulled the phone out, and waited for the nightmares to start climbing out of creaks and sliding under doors, peeking out of shadows again. In the dark, she couldn't see the tears so they weren't there...but she knew the shakes were close. She checked the door to see if she had locked it. She tried to phone a friend, and there wasn't any answer. She checked the locks again. And then she sat in the dark and waited for the lights to go out. She screams, unheard, unseen, and so alone, into the battering. She waited outside the office. The evening sunset was a fading red river drowning in the grey clouds of the night. The breezes seemed to tease her, sneaking cold fingers into her coat and sleeves. He walked up, looking around as if to see who else was in the street, not looking at her. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and took a step towards him. "Hi!" He stopped. "Uh, yeah. Hi. Did, uh..." "What's wrong?" "Why do you think something's wrong?" She reached towards him. He took a step back. She let her hands drop, and settled back on her feet. "Look, something is wrong. What is it?" He looked at the ground, then glanced at her, quickly, and looked away again. "Were you..uh, were you really raped?" Her ears roared. She screams, unheard, unseen, and so alone, into the battering burning streaming. The lawyer's handkerchief was a comforting mass in her hand. She squeezed it and remembered the lawyer holding her hand while they practiced what she should have to say, again and again until she could say it. She stared at the back of the courtroom. The wood grain of the walls flowed in front of her, and she repeated the words carefully and slowly, just as they had practiced. "I was raped. I was forced by violence." She screams, unheard, unseen, and so alone, into the battering burning streaming flow. He stared at her. He shook his head. "I can't deal with this. I mean, you lied to me, you made me think you were clean, and you're not. What kind of a woman are you, anyway?" The roar in her ears grew louder and louder. Other words clawed their way from her throat. He mumbled and threatened, meaningless sounds, as the roaring swelled. He walked away, shaking his head. She screams, unheard, unseen, and so alone, into the battering burning streaming flow from the cold metal shower head. There are those who say the net is the great unfeeling, unfriendly sounding board for the terminally bored. On the net, no one knows. No one sees the tears on the face behind the keyboard, no one hears the raw ragged gasping, no one knows... But sometimes empathy flames. Sometimes words burn across the dark and humanity declares a celebration of life with firewords, picnics on the grass, odd rectangular frisbees, and warm relaxation together in the virtual sunshine. Strange that the net, with slow communication limited to written words, sometimes seems to provide a better home and community than the faltering and dangerous families and neighborhoods of the "real world." Sometimes we scream, unheard, unseen, and so alone, into the battering burning streaming flow of feelings from cold electronic terminals. As plastic keys stroke love... across the insensate void, shared... broken hearted sobs fixed in glittering pixels hurt... when light meets darkness. -=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=--=-+-=-