Absence of Light

For two hundred years, humankind has endured many hardships and tribulations in its struggle to maintain its existence on Earth. Humans and other species perished during this period when the sun became a scorching instrument of death, and now all life could only exist at night and by the dim light of the moon.

The old governments knew of this deadly event long before it happened keeping it from their people until it was too late. They used the burning sun as a weapon to control the over-populated world; when they had complete domination, a new government was born. They herded people like cattle, putting them in a large area surrounded by high cement walls starving and mistreating everyone within. There was no way out, and for the past 50 years or so, there has been no word from the government people; no one knows where they have gone.

As more time passes, it becomes more and more challenging to breathe as the intense heat deepens. The sun has burned most of the vegetation away, causing the CO2 levels to climb to dangerous levels putting all species into a slumber of peace. Food was sparse, water had evaporated long ago, and any rations left carefully stored over time, was dwindling quickly. All the people within the impenetrable walls were starting to enter their next cycle at a much faster rate.

On this day, each year, these abandoned villagers would gather to hear the elders tell stories from a world that was long gone, a time preserved through family stories passed down through the years. This evening was special because one of the elders was nearing the end of her life cycle and would be sharing a story of one of her ancestors; the villagers had never heard her tales before.

The excitement this evening was palpable, like the soft kisses from a nice cool breeze. The moon was full and bright, without any clouds to obscure its beauty, filling the villagers' hearts with hope for the future. This wise elder knew everyone living in this barren wasteland was approaching the end. She thought long and hard of the story she wanted to share this night because she knew that everyone in her small village was sensing the impending doom.

Sweating, the elder heaved herself out of the protective shelter and up the path beside one of the great walls using her walking stick to help her along the way. She was hot, hungry, and she was tired; she was looking forward to her end. The moon's light guided her up the gentle slope; slowly, with each careful step, she made it to the top. She had to stop and sit for a while, catching her breath; the evening heat was unbearable. Looking sadly around at the hungry eyes of each villager gathered around, she could see their eager anticipation for the story she will share. It gave her the extra strength she needed. She was ready.

With labored breath, the elder began to speak.

"Today is a special day for me and my ancestors since it marks many warm winters since my Great, Great, Great, Grandmother escaped the end of her life cycle. Her name was Margaret, and she was a strong and stubborn woman who lived in a time when life was easy and privileged. The world was a vastly different place; it was always crowded and busy. Under our deadly sun, people gathered in daylight and went about their daily routines, always complaining there was not enough time.

Our ancestors used shiny gadgets; some were funny unnatural contraptions used to travel faster than any of you could imagine," she said, pointing to the villagers. "Contraptions that could fly like bats, move on the ground like a swift cougar transporting our ancestors anywhere, anytime within just one moon. It was one of these flying, shiny contraptions that devastated and saved young Margaret's life.

I do not know when Margaret was born, so do not ask me, but she lived a good life. She lived in a country called Canada at a time when such places had names. She loved being outside in the sun, dancing in the rain, climbing high trees, and helping sick animals. Everything she did, she did with her best friend, they loved each other very much," chuckling, she continued, "They were very mischievous, I have been told."

After both girls entered womanhood, they took different paths and led quite different lives, and each year, they spent time with one another doing something new and exciting that strengthened their bond. They were not too far into womanhood when Margaret started to feel unwell, so she went to her healer; they were called doctors back then. She had the sickness of the heart, and her healer told her she did not have much time left, a fitting statement in a world where time flew by, and everyone was short of it. Her healer told her to prepare for death.

Despite the healers' news, Margaret yearned for more as there were so many things she still wanted to see and do. The world was lush, full of life, and so was she. Margaret wanted a family, children, someone to get old with, play with her future grandchildren. Every day was becoming a struggle for her, but she was stubborn and not ready to let go. She went to see another healer who told her that if they could find a new heart, she might survive."

The villagers gasped, looking at each other in astonishment; the elder smiled and continued. "Back then, they did such things as replace human organs with other human organs, do not ask me how this was done, but I know that it was, or otherwise I would not be here tonight.

Time was slipping by, and Margaret still did not have her new heart, and she was starting to realize that one may never come; she knew it was time to tell her friend. The two girls made plans to see each other; one was happy, the other one sad. On the very day they were to see each other once more, Margaret's friend's life ended, dying by one of those shiny traveling contraptions I explained to you earlier. Oh, she was devastated and wanted to enter the next cycle with her dear friend, but that was never to be, for the healers told Margaret that they could use her friends' heart.

Mixed emotions entered Margaret's body; she just lost the one person she loved who understood everything about her. How could she take her heart? But a thought crept in, and she realized her friend was not gone; Margaret would still have her friend's beating heart, her essence. Together they would still have life, and they would continue to experience everything as one person. Margaret cried, and she thanked her friend because she had unknowingly given her the best gift anyone could give, the gift of life."

The elder pulled something out of her pocket, looking at it for a long time before lifting her head to gaze across the villagers once more.

"Her friend's name was Hope."

Lifting her arm straight out, she dropped the object from her hand, letting it dangle between her fingers; it was a shiny heart-shaped locket.

"This is Hope."