He approached the black garbage bag. Police officers weren’t supposed to be afraid, but the recent murders went beyond his understanding.
It was a small bag, so a child.
Stepping across the street and into the snow bank beyond, he slit the plastic, turning his eyes away from the gore bound to spill across his sturdy black shoes. Please, please, please don’t let the child be disemboweled, but he didn’t believe in God, not after all these years.
He looked back, plastic plates and cups scattered around his feet.
We grow accustomed to Darkness. Darkness is in our hearts. Our minds. Our souls. Anybody who has not been tempted by Darkness is a liar.
Some of us grow up in darkness. Some of us grow up in Light, finding Darkness when we realize Light is not all there is in this world. This is the Darkness which crushes the soul, destroys the spirit, leaving nothing behind but despair.
Some of us live in Darkness all our lives, never finding the path out. Never seeing even a spark of Light, our eyes so blinded by Dark.
Some of us are created of Darkness, some of us of Light. But it is the Darkness which finds us in our hours of despair, when the pain is so all-encompassing we no longer believe in Light. Some of us never escape the Darkness and drown.
Some of us…. all of us…. grow accustomed to Darkness.