Prose/Short Story: The Reflected Lamplight By Hannah Williams

The reflected lamplight shone on. It shone directly on me. It provided a simple illumination in this dark hour. In my deep darkness, I waded by the lamplight wondering how far humans have strayed from God’s light. Yet, I wondered if this light will illuminate my path home. It did. In fact, several reflected lamplights led me home. I walked following the light. Even though, you were told to stay away from the light. Eventually, I got home. I sat in the garden for an hour sipping my tea. It was warm, milky and heavenly – just how I like it. Then I reflected on my day.

Today was like any other day. I woke up half-hearted and demotivated but ready to endure every hour of the day. I went into work. I started on my mundane tasks first ensuring I prioritised the urgent from the fickle. I was always told I had a strong work ethic but no people skills. So I worked in silence whilst I heard the office oversharing their weekend antics. They smiled. They laughed. They grinned. The faces beamed like hyenas who saw the carcass of a kill. In the midst of their laughter, our boss decided it was time to kill the first prey. The prey was me. I was led to my slaughter. He talked for minutes about how I was hardworking. Then escalated it to how funding had been tight this year and how this was part and parcel of restructuring. I was crippled. I froze. Nothing came out of my mouth and nothing seeped into my ear. I was paralysed.

So, I packed up from my little corner of the office. I compressed thirteen years of my time in the office to thirteen minutes. I packed everything I owned in that office. I stuffed it in my bag. Then I handed in my ID. The clock croaked twice and it was 11am.

I headed over to the park and sat there for hours. A myriad of faces I saw. At twelve, I saw an old married couple feeding ducks and realised that love has never been so young. At one, I saw a mother playing with her child in the park and realised motherhood had never been so liberating. At two, I saw a businesswoman out to lunch and realise progression had never been so befitting. Amidst these beautiful lives, mine was crumbling like a house made on sand. Yet, none of these faces returned my smiles but perhaps it was because their lives was worthwhile.

Before I knew it, I began to cry. I cried not like a baby because that was too loud. I cried but not like crying an ocean because that was too dramatic. I cried like someone who was fighting an internal battle. This inner cry is soft, the tear roll gentle and the sobs leave you out of breath. I cried and not a person was in sight to witness my pain.

The hour became very dark. I had no one or nothing to comfort me. Even if there was a soul interested in my pain. I would not know the words in which I can use to express myself. The sun went down. The wind stopped whistling. The leaves stopped playing. They ceased- at least in my world. It became dark, bleak and obsolete.

I gave up hope. Till I saw the reflect light shine on. The common adage came to mind that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. Even though my tunnel was deep, the street light coming on reminded me to stay positive. The ability to connect physical with emotional was what saved me on this very night- the reflected lamplight.

It shone directly on me.

One thought

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s