Again Dark Short Story

  Something had awakened her. She could see nothing – she was blind.
    She was surrounded by absolute darkness. The kind of darkness that rules unrestrictedly and tolerates no compromise, no boundaries, and no grey zones. Nothing but complete and utter darkness. It was so terribly dark and cold, uncomfortable and humid – once again.
    Silently her claws scratched and scraped; trying to make their way through the clammy soil. She had to make it. She had to work her way up through the mould and the rot that surrounded her. She had to reach the surface before she suffocated.
    What was that? Her claw had hit something cold and hard. She stretched out her second claw to better feel the object that was hampering her movements. It was a stone and it wouldn’t be moved. It would remain exactly where it had been all along. Since when? Probably ages – she wouldn’t exactly remember. She didn’t heed the stone and continued scratching and scraping her way up with her claws. Nothing would stop her.
    She had to get out of this stinky place … the sooner the better!
    The soil kept falling on top of her head, but that didn’t stop her from writhing and winding her way up, despite her eyes being sightless in the absolute darkness that surrounded her. Her body moved with all its strength – with all that unyielding will to survive, which filled her every breath.
    She slithered and wriggled along, and on her way she scraped away the soil and clay that kept collapsing on top of her. Bones, rotting roots, worms and other light-shy creatures – they were all there, as if waiting for her. It was so utterly ugly down here. She didn’t need them now, but she knew very well that she would later on – all of them.
    She went on and with her claws felt the cold body that lay there and blocked her way up. Nothing but decay, decomposition, rot and mould surrounded her.
    Once she reached the surface, she would’ve escaped the underworld and become part of the other side of the world – the one that had warmth, light and beauty in it. She stretched through the clammy wet of the underground realm which she was part of, but which she wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Nothing would stop her now … nothing could stop her now.
    The pressure above her head became lighter, and she could already smell the clear, fresh air she was thirsting for.
    And then she finally made it.
    She broke through the soil and started to feel the warmth of the sun that she needed to feed on. How she had longed for this! She slowly began to open up. She stretched herself upwards in winding movements, like a child reaching blindly for her mother, with her arms sucking in all the warmth she was given.
    A powerful force started to flow through her body, and her face began to change colour with every ray of sunlight until it resembled glowing embers. Something fluttered curiously around her head before it settled down as tenderly as a soft summer breeze. She stretched out her arms for the pretty butterfly to rest on. Soon also the bees would come seeking her grace, and she’ll be delighted to grant it. How happy she was. How glad to have escaped the dreary darkness and the raw cold beneath the ground.
    And while she stretched her little foot down the clammy soil, her body became ever stronger and blossomed in the golden sunlight, and her arms swayed in the gentle dance of the wind. Yes, life was so beautiful, and she wished it could always stay that way, but an odd feeling told her it wouldn’t.
    First, she felt the approaching steps like a threatening quake. Then she heard voices.
        “Mama, look over there!”
    Why did it have to happen so soon?
        “Where, child?”
    Why couldn’t she be granted a little more time?
        “There – see that red flower? It’s so beautiful, Mama!”
    Oh no! She started to tremble, and suddenly she felt cold in the warm sunlight. Why did she have to be pretty? Why couldn’t she just be as ugly as her neighbour who was standing all alone in the shade of the wall – wilting? Anything was better than what was about to happen.
    A little hand touched her.
        “Wow, it has such a sweet scent, Mama!”
    Why did she have to give off such a pleasant fragrance? Why couldn’t she smell more repulsive … like her neighbour, whom all of these tender, fluttering butterflies avoided?
        “What are you doing sweetheart?”
        “The flower’s so lovely, Mama – I’m going to pick it for you.”
    Oh snap! All her struggle for nothing. All her efforts in vain. In the blink of an eye her stalk was torn off. With an inaudible sigh and a subtle shiver she let her head drop, and the one thought – the only one left – was a sad one.
    Her escape from the underworld had failed – once again. And while the child sang a cheerful song and hopped down the path at her mother’s side, holding the red flower in her hand, the flower’s head was hanging down, and her leaves started to wilt.
    But somewhere deep down in the soil, somewhere dark and dank, the little foot the flower had stretched down fell asleep and would have to wait until awakened … again.