by Greg Mitchell -
Shuffling. I can hear him outside, trying to find me, but I’m good at hiding. A loud clatter. Something falls over and breaks on the floor. He shouts my name, like it’s my fault. Everything’s always my fault. He’s been drinking again. I don’t want to blame him. He’s a miner, trapped in the dark for hours. Sometimes days. The dark does things to you, but I won’t be like that. I’m going to grow up and stay outside, where I can see the light. I don’t care about the storms. I’ll gladly face all that grit and heat—even the coldest day—just so long as I’m free. I don’t want to be alone, in the dark.
I’m alone in the dark now. He shouts my name again. “Trebstidium! Where are you, boy? Get out here, now!”
I’m alone in the dark, but I won’t be forever.