The Darkness Within
Copyright 2016 Michael Huddlestone
The bitter winter wind chilling Peter's skin was nothing compared to the icy reception that he would no doubt receive when he arrived home. Lilyan always had a response for everything. According to her she was always in the right. When she didn't have an answer she would deflect the question, bringing up the past, exaggerating it to suit her point. He had to walk out, needing a break from her as he climbed on his bicycle and left for a ride through the park. The truth was, he couldn't even remember now what started the fight. Only that it got very heated fast, certainly on her behalf. It was like it was her intention to drive him out.
The sun had just set as he rounded the corner, his street bordered with shadows. In his rush to get out, he had left his bike lamp at home. Riding in the dark, he took it slow. The only light was the dull glow of the street lamps, too few and far between them to be of any real illumination. Their house lay at the end of the dead-end street. The last inch of suburbia before Hidden Springs State Forest. Approaching, Peter watched the final few streams of sunset silhouette their colonial high-set house, raising it from the dark as if it had grown with the night. He entered the driveway, storing his bike in the adjoining garage. He took his time. He wasn’t ready to face the music just yet. Outside, the night had taken over, the stars extinguished from view by a threatening cloud washing over the sky from the east coast. The woods stood like shadow giants in the night. It was one of the most appealing aspects of the house. Both Peter and Lilyan loved nature. In their early days they used to take long walks through the grove. They built a gate in the back fence, walking along their unique path through the undergrowth, joining up to the nature tracks that ran through it like streams. He missed them. These days Lilyan used the gate to escape into what had become her private garden for solitude. He wouldn't be surprised if she were out there now.
Pausing in the driveway, Peter noticed the house was in darkness, no light emanating from the windows. Lilyan’s car was still in the garage.
Was she in the woods or maybe she was in bed already? Peter thought to himself. Secretly he hoped it was true. Head upright, he prepared himself for the fury that may soon break the silence of the evening. Peter proceeded down the garden path towards the back stairs. The garden, usually alive with the sounds of insects, was quiet. It was as if they too, were preparing for the incoming storm.
Opening the back door quietly, Peter entered the hallway. He paused. His eyes needed time to adjust to the depth of darkness that the now house lay. To the left, the bedrooms and bathroom, to the right the lounge, study and kitchen. The scene was still. Turning right Peter proceeded down the hallway towards the kitchen, its entrance veering off to the right while the lounge room lay ahead. The television was off. There was an electric glow coming from behind the lounge. Changing direction, he moved towards the room for further investigation. As he approached his eyes adjusted enough to see the shadow of a woman sitting on the lounge, her back towards him. The electric glow came from the computer tablet he had bought Lilyan for Christmas. She didn’t make a sound as he passed by, taking the alternative route to the kitchen.
Maybe without me here she didn’t need the forest for solitude.
Peter didn’t speak. He could feel the chill in the room, but not just from the open windows. Lilyan was always like this after a fight, she would go quiet for hours on end. It was almost like a battle on who would speak first. In most cases, it was him. Peter didn’t like conflict, nor silence. His mind felt like it was screaming when it was too quiet. Still, he didn’t speak.
Not this time.
The light from the refrigerator poured into the shadowy kitchen, beams of it touched the sink behind Peter as he reached for the chilled water bottle resting on the shelf in the fridge door. Its coolness ran down his throat, refreshing yet painful at the same time. His chest felt like a fridge as he drank; chilled to the core. He raised the bottle again, glimpsing movement in the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see the outline of Lilyan disappear around the corner. The sound of her footsteps softly kissing the carpet came from the hallway.
She must be sick of the tablet. He looked down the darkened hallway; it was empty from what he could make out. Gone to bed now?
“Night, Dear,” Peter muttered under his breath. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, he felt conflicted. Proud that he had not broken the silence yet ashamed that he had allowed his wife to go to bed in angry silence. Peter had always believed in the old saying: ‘Let not the sun go down on your wrath.’ The words echoed in his mind.
Returning the bottle to the refrigerator, Peter decided he would shower and then make peace with his wife. The door to the refrigerator closed, and the house returned to shadows. There was a strange comfort in the darkness. No judgment, no scolding eyes. Here the shadows wrapped themselves around you. Embracing each movement. Just as you are - without trying to change you.
Peter slid off his shirt as he entered the hallway, catching the aroma of something that made him pause, a sensuality that teased his senses.
Sandalwood. With each step, the scent grew in intensity, begging him to discover the source. The crisp sound of water falling on tiles broke the silence of the night. Was she in the bathroom? Passing the backdoor he entered the house earlier, a dim yellow glow danced on a half-opened doorway captured Peter’s gaze further along the hallway. Approaching, he heard a faint melody drifting from the room.
Is Lilyan humming? Peter smiled to himself, he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard her humming. Steam spilled out of the doorway, flowing low to the ground like incoming fog.
The tone was sweet and inviting, not something he would have expected tonight. At the door, the room was bathed in shadows. They leapt up the walls, moved by the flickering of a single sandalwood candle that sat on the vanity unit to his right. A large bathroom was something they were both desperate to have when they bought the house. The vanity unit was a double basin with twin mirrors, now entirely covered in steam, allowing them both to use it at the same time. In their last house, there was only one basin, a pet hate of Lilyan’s. On the right was an entrance to a smaller room where a large ceramic bath sat. It had a window above, overlooking their gardens and out onto the forest that their property backed onto. The bath was once a place they frequently occupied together, soaking in its warmth while talking, or reading. Just being in each other’s presence.
On the far side of the room, behind the shower's foggy glass, a female figure swayed with the rhythm of her melody. The candlelight gave little of her features away, only a dim glow reflected by the tiled walls.
“Come,” her voice was tender and soft, obscured in part by cascading water. She knew he was there.
"Have I been forgiven?" Peter stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The door to the shower opened, answering his question. Disrobing, he moved slowly towards the inviting door. The candle dimmed as he approached, now only the dull red amber of a nearly extinguished flame. The darkness was alluring. Guided by the reflected light of the open shower door, Peter stepped in. Steam filled the spacious shower, double in size to most. Twin shower heads hung down from the ceiling, giving the sense of washing in the rain. Her shadow seemed to evade him as he stepped into the warmth of the falling water. At first it stung his skin. The heat of the water struck the coldness of his naked body. Hundreds of individual damp paths formed as beads of water cascaded down his body. He moved further into the steam-drenched darkness of the shower, his vision poor. Searching with his hands, Peter found only cold wet tiles. Where did Lilyan go? His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of fingers sliding up his sides from behind, like vines they worked their way around caressing hi
s chest. They gently pulled him into their embrace. He felt her behind him, pressing her body against his, bring warmth to his back. Peter was about to speak but, as if already knowing, the fingers touched his lips instructing silence. The darkness had encapsulated him, his eyes useless vessels, closed and allowing other senses to be heightened. It briefly cleared from his mind. He found himself no longer in the shower but instead standing naked in the forest, her touch confirming he was not alone. She kissed his shoulder, parting each with the gift of a long sensual caress before turning Peter's head,