eric

dan_y

Eric was a little boy who lived in the dark. He didn't like the light.
Sunlight would make his skin bubble and fizz, flourescent light would make
acid froth erupt from his pores, and firelight would make his eyes water and
implode. At least, that was what Santa had told him.

Eric had been in correspondance with Santa Claus since he was only four. Up
until then Eric had lived in a coal cellar. Eric had grown to like the smell
of coal. It was harsh and urban, and it had texture, unlike air. Eric didn't
trust air, because he never felt it. Eric trusted coal, because he could
touch it. And until he was four, everytime he took a breath, Eric was
breathing coal. Coal was part of Eric. It coated his insides and made him feel safe.

But when he was four, someone opened the cellar door and handed Eric a
pencil and some paper. The first voice he ever heard told him to write a
letter to Santa Claus. Eric, who had never spoken before, took the pen and
paper from the outstretched hand and set about it, even though he couldn't
read or write.

The voice came back a little while later and asked for the letter. Eric
handed him the paper, gritty with coal and smudged with tiny black
thumbprints. The door closed again and Eric waited. He didn't know why he
was waiting, but he was excited anyway.

Some days later the door opened again and the second voice he ever heard
told him that Santa had written back. It asked him if he would like to hear
what Santa had to say. Eric, who didn't understand words, looked out
eagerly, expecting more pen and paper. Instead, a light brighter than he had
ever known shone right into his eyes.

Eric squealed in pain and recoiled against the wall, turning his head away
and covering it with his hands. The light went away, and Eric stayed
cowering. The voice told him to turn around. Eric looked around tenatively.
One of the hands that was reaching into the cellar pointed at the torch in
the other and the voice said 'light'. Eric nodded.

The 'light' went away and more paper arrived. The voice told Eric to write
to Santa about 'light'. Eric grabbed the paper and set to work right away,
scribbling furiously to Santa about his encounter with 'light'. He ended his
scribblings by poking a hole in the page, so that Santa would know what
light felt like. Then someone opened the door and took the letter away.

Eric waited impatiently this time, sometimes scratching at the door,
wondering why Santa didn't reply faster. He started trying to write more
letters, on the walls of the cellar. He used his fingers to scratch
marks onto the walls. He was doing this when the door opened again.
The third voice he ever heard told him that it was time to leave the
cellar.

Eric looked at the voice curiously, wondering why it wasn't giving him more
paper. Then the voice reached for Eric. Eric started to scream and cry,
biting at the outstretched hands and kicking out with his bony feet. More
voices started appearing, louder ones. Angry ones. Then 'light' appeared
again. Eric twitched and flailed uselessly, trying
in vain to get away from 'light'. The outstretched hands were tight around
his waist now, pulling him from the cellar into the 'light'. Eric, sensing
defeat, reached around the cellar, looking for coal. He found a big lump,
and with his frail hands picked it up and threw it at the outstretched
hands.

The hands let him go and made a noise. Then he heard other voices, familiar
voices, and something slamming. Eric crawled back into his corner and heard
a click. Then a loud bang that made him cover his ears. The bang made
'light' too, so Eric turned away and wrapped his gaunt frame in on itself.
Something hit the ground outside the open door of Eric's cellar, and then
there was no more noise. Someone swung the door shut and Eric was safe
again.