One Shot Wednesdays -S̵̝̦̒̓̒p̵͙͉̺̓̒͘o̸̝͖͚̐͆̽o̴̘͍̪̔̈́͝k̴̙̘͓͛͘͝y̸̻̙̓͑͛ Ë̴̡͎̞́͒̕d̵͚̺͚̔̽͝i̸̠͚̘̐̿t̸̞͇̠̔̀͝i̵̡͇̺͒̀͠o̸̦̙̦͑́̓n̸͎͕̽̓̚͜ Insanity and Darkness (Patreon)

Thank you Patrons for your support! Patrons, you got to vote and chose the theme of 'insanity' for this S̵̝̦̒̓̒p̵͙͉̺̓̒͘o̸̝͖͚̐͆̽o̴̘͍̪̔̈́͝k̴̙̘͓͛͘͝y̸̻̙̓͑͛ one-shot.

Thank you to the public on Facebook that chose the bottom two prompts to be used:

❝ Congratulations. You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore. ❞

"But, we’re not alone. There’s someone right there, in the corner.”

Admittedly, I wasn't sure after all of the voting whether I wanted to do insanity anymore simply because I know there are so many more writers out there who can capture insanity and I didn't think I could compare. But, I pulled up my socks (metaphorically) and told myself I could do this! Then I wasn't sure how I was going to tie in the first quote to the idea that I had regarding the second. Let me know what you think of how I used the quotes now that all is said and done!

Happy S̵̝̦̒̓̒p̵͙͉̺̓̒͘o̸̝͖͚̐͆̽o̴̘͍̪̔̈́͝k̴̙̘͓͛͘͝y̸̻̙̓͑͛  Season everyone!

-Britt xoxo

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How terrifying it was to be alone. How terrifying it was to be uncertain of the passage of time. How long had he been alone here?

It seemed always to be dark in this house. Sometimes the lamps would cast a dim glow, other times there was naught but candles or fireplaces to pierce the darkness in this Victorian style mansion. But there was always looming darkness, and he was always alone.

“But, we’re not alone. There’s someone right there, in the corner.”

Briar turned his attention to the shadow. “See?” he told himself, “We’re not alone.”

“Oh certainly not,” he replied to himself, “There has always been the two of us. Whoever is there in the corner is a wonderful addition. They make three.

“Well, follow me. May as well have tea and biscuits,” he responded and beckoned to the shadow of the corner. He got a small plate filled and a tea service and taking both sat down in the west sitting room where there was a fire lighting and warming the room. The temperature in here was not terribly comfortable.

“I am sorry,” Briar told his guest, “I really am sorry but I must add more wood to the fire. I would hate for you to be cold.

“Yes, yes I realize that the tea is hot but well I must be a good house host. Please the warmth will accompany the light in no time and in no time after that the light will leave. Meanwhile, why don’t I move your chair from the light? I don’t want you to feel unwelcome.”

He got up and pulled the large armchair with some difficulty away from the hearth. “There now, just perfect for you.”

Sitting down with his own tea, he sighed contentedly and tried to decide what to talk about. There had never been three to a conversation. He wasn’t sure what this new guest would like.

But in time, he did come to be as comfortable with the guest as he was with speaking to himself.

And months later, it was his laughter at the comfortable conversation that drew in yet another guest to his home.

She wasn’t entirely sure how she had stayed hidden from him for so long. After all, she hadn’t been wearing a hat with her hair up that first night. Her blonde hair seemed to shine white in the darkness as she moved through the mansion and watched this peculiar young man talk to the air and talk to himself likewise. Then he’d gone to bed before sunrise and she’d slipped out unnoticed only to return the next night more prepared to spy on him, which she did for weeks.

He didn’t appear to think he was a vampire or anything -which was what she had first suspected. No, he seemed to not realize that when he lay down or on some evenings simply sat in a chair and closed his eyes that he hadn’t blinked. He seemed to not realize that there was a period of time when he was not awake or specifically that there was in fact a day time. He would often mutter about the darkness and how much trouble it gave sometimes. “But I can’t ask you to leave for how would I know how to handle pure light? Please do not mistake my intention. I desire you to stay. And all of you,” he went on as he seemed to look to different empty points of the room.

And then one night, he looked right at her. “Hello. You’re new.”

Did he think she was one of his imaginary companions? Best to play along. “Hello.”

“Oh you speak. Great. Please, come and sit down,” he beckoned, “Do you prefer the light or the dark?”

“Light,” she decided and he looked momentarily surprised but nodded.

Briar watched her take a seat across from him in the large armchair by the fire. “Brandy? Sherry? Wine?”

“No thank you,” she dismissed.

“And us?

“Oh well mulled wine is probably fine isn’t it? Very well.” He poured himself a heated wine beverage and sat holding it between his hands.

“Thank you for having me,” she spoke up.

“I thank you for coming. It’s been a long time since anyone new has come around here. And I don't remember anyone coming around here who preferred light. You may in fact be the first.

“Yes, she’s first. You are first besides us who likes both the light and the dark. But… that is okay. More than okay. It is nice to have you.”

“I’m glad,” she told him, quietly analysing his expression and body language and how he appeared to be completely at ease with this new stranger in his house.

He was definitely insane, she knew that, but it was different to be involved in the insanity. To be taken from observer to participant. It frankly made her a little uncomfortable.

Not that this man had done anything alarming in the past to his other “guests”, mind you. Not that he’d done anything alarming or harmful to himself, either.

But the problem with dealing with insanity, she decided right there, was that the unpredictability of it; knowing someone wasn’t “all there in the head” made each moment hang question marks around the room like decorations at Christmas.

It was not a comforting feeling.

“Tell me,” Briar began gently, “Will you be staying several hours? Or minutes? Or-?” He didn’t judge by days or the chopping up of a day like morning, afternoon and evening. It was, after all, always dark in this house. Time for him was judged by the length of a firewood burning to ash or the length of time the water took to boil to make himself tea. Or the length of time it took him to get tired, which he knew was at least ten hours or so before poof he felt restored again.

His new guest answered that she wasn’t sure. “I do not know how long I can stay. So, when I must go, I must go,” she told him, securing an excuse out of staying.

He was used to his other guests coming and going as they pleased. She was nothing new.

“I must again thank you for your visit.”

“You are welcome.”

“So, what is it about the light that doesn’t scare you? I don’t mean to be rude but as I said before, well, you’re one of the first- you are the first that is not bothered by the light. Everyone else sits away from it.”

“Everyone else?”

“Oh yes. I have other guests quite frequently but they come and go as you said you will. I suppose I don’t mind it.” Briar shrugged.

“You don’t mind being on your own?”

“Oh certainly not. I always have myself. And the guests when they arrive.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” she pressed.

“What should bother me?”

“This existence. Being in this dark house all of the time with the comings and goings.”

His brows pressed together as the firelight flickered across his smooth face. “I can’t say that it does. No one has ever asked me that? Why would you?”

“Because you have to realize at some point that something is wrong here. Don’t you? This isn’t normal. Living like this isn’t normal,” the young woman tried, “There needs to be a day time. There needs to be more than just going from room to room in dim lighting. In having yourself for company and never going outside. Can’t you see that?”

He chuckled. “Why go anywhere when everyone I know comes to visit me here? There is a certain point when you know that you must’ve died but this purgatory or whatever it is isn’t so terrible. This afterlife, whatever it is, is easy. Is manageable. Is comfortable.”

“Wait, you think you’re dead?” she exhaled with surprise.

“I don’t remember ever being alive,” he retorted in honesty, “so what else is this?”

His newest guest stared at him and being used to stares he brought his cup of wine to his lips. It was tasty.

“You are alive,” she told him finally, “you’re just...confused at times. That’s all.”

“No, no. You are the one attempting to confuse me. I’m… I exist but I'm not alive. I don’t have a life that I live. There are things that I do not have and do not do here that someone who is alive would have and would do. I’m not.”

“So then let me prove it,” she dared, “Can I prove it to you?”

He laughed and waved a hand in carefree dismissal. She could do what she wanted. She wouldn’t harm him-none of the other guests had ever harmed him. So whatever she needed to do to prove this odd-job theory that he was alive would have to be something odd but it couldn’t harm him. He wasn’t alive.

And then he couldn’t breathe. This guest had her hands on him and around his throat. And goodness she was strong.

Panic began to set in as Briar realized not only could he not breathe but his body; his form of existence was struggling against this lack of breath. What!?

“Stop!” he gasped, trying to wrench her hands free, “Stop!”

“Do you believe me?”

“I’m scared!” he exhaled with the little breath left in his chest. His heart was pounding; for the first time ever he could hear it loudly breaking up the quiet of the room.

It was then that she let go and he collapsed limply in his chair and coughed and gasped.

“So do you believe me now?” she asked, unsure why she’d been overcome with a strong desire to try and snap him out of all this by making him fear for his life. Maybe she was a little curious if she could do it. And she was certainly curious about how he’d react if she did convince him one part of his beliefs, within the parameters of his insanity, was not real.

“I… I…” he swallowed, gazing wide eyed at her. “Did you… Was that my murder?”

She scoffed. “No!”

“S-so then… I’m still alive?”

“Congratulations. You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore.” She could see that much in his eyes. He looked so relieved to hear it.

As he was nodding she watched him sit up a bit straighter in his seat. “Okay… I’m alive,” he acknowledged. “And, you’re alive?”

“Yes. I am most certainly alive. You’ve been living alone for so long I think you started to forget things. It’s okay,” she tried to reassure.

“Oh but I do not live alone.

“Well, yes I do but I’m never lonely.”

“That’s another thing,” she put forward, “you have guests or you think you do but it’s not real. I am real, and you are real but the rest of it, well, it’s in your head I’m afraid.”

He shook his head at her now with a smile. “It certainly is not. This I am sure of. Completely. I do not think that you can convince me otherwise,” he told her with proud confidence. “You are not my first guest and not my last guest this hour.”

“Yes I am. I’ve been here for hours and it’s just me and you,” she assured him as gently as she could, “it’s hard to understand or believe, I know, but maybe if you let me bring you away from this house, we can have a d- a friend of mine help us both sort this out.”

“Nope. No need,” he shook his head, still smiling, “It’s like I said: you aren’t the only one here with us.”

She looked around for a fraction of a second to humor the situation. “We’re alone.”

“But, we’re not alone. There’s someone right there, in the corner.” He pointed at a shadowy place on his side of the room at the farther corner that she had a good and full view of.

She looked at it, feeling pity swelling in her chest at the insanity he was in the midst of in his mind.

And then, the shadow stood taller and came directly across the room towards them.