Green Light

I don’t know when I first noticed it.

I felt like it had been there forever.

A solid, bright, green light.

Alone in the darkness.

I often gazed out my window, but not at night. During the daylight hours, it was a picturesque view of the lake. Broad, cerulean water, stretching for miles. I’d played in that lake for most of my life, so I was never afraid of it, except at night when the window was just a black void. If I craned my head I could see the stars, but from my bed it was darkness. I always closed my curtains.

One night the wind had blown open my curtains and that’s when I saw it. The green light, solid and stark against the black. Not blinking, just there, as if someone had placed a singular marble. I stared at the tiny bead of light. How long had it been there? Where did it come from? Questions danced around my head. The sound of a broken glass and drunken laughter interrupted my attention and I dismissed all memory of the green light.

The next time I noticed it more clearly. My mother was helping me pack for college, picking clothes, leaving childhood knick-knacks. Yet again, I looked out my window and there it was. My mother was speaking to me, but it was muffled. As I stared at the green light something seemed different. I studied it, the same colour, the same intensity, no flicker or flash, just steady.

Everything was as I remembered, but some aspect had certainly changed.

My mother called my name and again my attention was interrupted. She had that look on her face, the face a mother has when she realises you haven’t been listening. My mother walked over, reiterating what I had missed in her very motherly tone. Her words left my mind as the green light took my attention again. Something had changed. Was it some kind of buoy? My mother once again called my name. This time her face was awash with confusion. I asked her about the green light, never taking my eyes off it. As I stared, my mind began to buzz and hair on the back of my neck stood up. An ancient reptilian part of my brain screamed in fear, but was drowned out by the green light.

I turned back to my mother. Her face was now a broken array of emotions. Primarily fear and concern. She forced her face into a fake smile and walked back over to my bags, talking all the way. Her words refused to form in my mind. There was only the green light. What was it? Why was I the only one who could see it? What did it want?

HE IS

The words flashed in my mind, I closed my curtains violently, nearly ripping them off the wall. The green light blocked from my view, I finally realised what was different about it. As the limbic warning solidifies in my mind, the green light was getting closer.

I open my eyes. My room welcomes me. The curtains are closed, they haven’t been opened since the warning. As I get up, I try to shake the fog of sleep from my mind. I walk over to my door, the sunlight peeking through my curtains blinds me. I shut my eyes in pain, and fling open my door. What awaits me is not the hallway of my home, lined with the pictures of my family.

It is only the Void.

There is nothing past my door, no light or matter.

Nothing.

Just the dark Void.

Fear grips my spine as I blink, hoping it is just a trick of the light. I reach through the door, fumbling for the well-worn light switch, but it is gone. My hand reaches into the darkness, all I feel is the cold. I lean out, steadying myself. I examine my surroundings, my door exists in space but nothing else. If I stepped out into the vacuum I would surely fall. I grip the frame of my door, and look behind it, hoping to see anything.

Still, nothing.

Peering from behind it appears as if I am simply floating in this hollow space. This entrance exists, but nothing else does.

It is empty.

The Void is all there is.

I slam my door closed and back away. My eyes are pulled to the window, the daylight shining through. Only now do I see the colour, the bright green. I rush to the window and tear open the curtains. All of my vision is the green light. No longer the tiny marble from before, it is now massive, blocking the entire view from my window. I see now, it is not a solid light but waves of luminescence dancing, moving and shifting. It mesmerises me, like emerald solar flares or a viridian aurora.

It should be blinding.

It should immolate me.

Yet, he doesn’t.

The Green Light is good. The Green Light is safe.

Wait, that wasn’t me. It sounded like me, but it was an alien thought. Why did I think that? The thought had permeated its way into my consciousness. I don’t think the Green Light is good. It was as if someone else was impersonating a thought in my mind.

I would rather cast myself into the Void than stay here. I turn away, and realise my door is gone. I approach it and the wall is blank and solid, as if my door never existed.

HE IS

Those words again burn through my mind. I clutch my head, splitting in agony. Blood falls down my face, pouring from my nose.

HE IS

What are you? What do you want? I just want to go home. Please, let me go home!

HE IS

I turn back to close the curtains, but they are gone too. The wall is gone. My windows, my bookcase, my desk; everything against it is gone. It was as if someone had pulled the wall off a dolls house. There is nothing.

There is only the Green Light, endlessly burning.

The waves of light dancing off it reach out towards me.

HE IS

I scramble towards my bed. As I move to it, my floor falls away, plummeting into the void.

Only my bed remains.

There is only the Empty around me.

I pull the covers over my head.

I huddle into the fetal position.

I scream into the void.

Wake up! Wake up!

I dig my nails into my hand.

I feel blood.

WAKE UP!

I drift.

I don’t know how long I’ve been under my covers, hiding from the Green Light. Tears sting my eyes, the ancient lizard part of my brain gave up on warning me a long time ago. I see the Green Light through the edges of my blanket, but I never peek. Will I ever see my family again? The tears come fast now. I just want to go home. Why is this happening to me? Why is the Green Light doing this to me? What is it? What is HE? These questions form a maelstrom in my mind. Why does it look like the sun? Why does the light dance from it? Why is it so beautiful?

What? No, this isn’t me.

Why does it call me home?

Leave me alone. Get out of my head.

The Green Light is pure, The Green Light is good.

No, it’s evil. It took me from my home. It brought me here.

I should thank it, for bringing me into its presence.

No! This isn’t me.

I feel my body move without my instruction, reaching up and pulling the blanket down. I try to stop myself, but I’m absent. I’m only a passenger in my mind now. As the blanket frees my vision I see, The Green Light in all its glory. Enormous and omnipresent, as if I’m standing at the precipice of the sun. I lie on the edge of its majesty. It gives off no heat, it radiates nothing.

The Green Light is good. It deserves our worship and our reverence.

No! It’s controlling me, let me go!

The Green Light is eternal. HE was here before us and HE will be here long after we are gone.

You are an invader in my mind LET ME GO!

My arm lifts up, reaching for the Green Light. I scream, but my body does not obey.

The Green Light is everything we could ever need.

I grab my wrist. I have control, but my arm feels so heavy. I can barely hold on.

All in his glow.

I HATE YOU!

One final thought that is my own. Before my hand reaches the Green Light.

HE IS.

THE END