I hear their prayers as I write this.
I’ve always wondered how chanting calmed people. Don’t take this as me being insensitive to religious folk. Live and let live. It’s just, sitting here, on this cold, damp basement floor, taking the smallest breaths I can manage, hearing their frantic singing, it’s… a little uncomfortable, to say the least. Pricklemouth has become loud. Very loud. I’ve always heard that the loss of one sense lets the others shine. I got to test that on my own skin.
I woke up one day to find myself in complete darkness. At that point we still had batteries, flashlights worked well enough. I was relieved to find out I hadn’t gone blind, at least. Me simply losing vision is the better scenario, now that I think about it.
Pricklemouth was a quiet little orthodox town. Middle of nowhere little hole, stuck somewhere deep in the woods. White picket fences, smooth little sidewalks, church on Sunday, full happy families, some of them should’ve been a little less full, you know… a little more divorced. Anyway, I grew up here. My name is Henrietta. I wasn’t ever too happy about that. The town too. I did well in school. I graduated. My parents went on a 2-day road trip a month and half ago. I live alone now.
March 11^(th), I’m pretty sure that’s when the lights went out. The computer’s telling me it’s April now. We stopped counting the days a long time ago – it’s hard when you can’t see the sun setting, or anything at all. There are still matches left, though we try to ration them. We have been abandoned. There is no railroad. Those who drove out never came back. The mayor was one of them.
Pricklemouth was panicking quietly. I remember, the eerie silence would weight me down. I felt heavy. Every breath I took was too loud. Darkness is bad enough, seeing things in it is something else. Eventually, though, I got used to it as much as one can. The possibility of something watching me, peeking from around the corner of a corridor, staring me in the face while I simply couldn’t see it was lingering in my mind at all times. I found that the reality was, in many ways, worse. No birds, crickets. Deafening silence is breathing down my neck.
How would you deal with complete pitch-black darkness? You’d expect looters to pop up, swiping up whatever food is left. Riots, maybe. No, the people of Pricklemouth aren’t like that. Well, maybe they would’ve been if it hadn’t been for one woman. Vera Taylor. They call her ‘Mother Vera’ now.
I don’t think it would make sense explaining who she was before all this. I don’t really know either. On the second day the town priest was gone. They looked for him, only to find his house windows boarded up and doors locked. One of the kids managed to peek through the boards. At that point little Jessie still had a working phone. He said he saw chairs, wardrobes, cupboards, all the furniture the priest had propped up against the door. Whatever the reason for the darkness was he wanted to keep himself away from it. Only sign of him was a frantic, faint prayer coming from somewhere deep within the house. Some said it was no prayer – just quiet, hopeless weeping bouncing off the concrete walls. Well, a vacancy had opened. Vera decided to take it.
There were whispers, of course, about the reason for all of this. UFOs, government experiments, hallucinogenic gas. Eh. The rapture theory sounded the most logical, even to me. I wasn’t ever religious. But only god could’ve taken the sun away, I don’t know what else could have.
One day I decided I needed to act. I couldn’t keep rotting away in my house. Whatever food I had wouldn’t last forever.
The door creaked open. The sound of my meek footsteps was only interrupted by the crazy cat lady’s “pspsps”. I doubt I can properly describe it. She does it loudly, through her teeth, hissing it out almost. You’d think she was herding sheep or something, that catcall could be heard 4 houses away. She’s weird. Lights on, no one’s home.
I could’ve sworn spring hadn’t ever been this chilly. Shivers crept up my arms. I tried to quicken my pace, but the possibility of getting lost on the empty streets terrified me. I had to remember how to get to the church.
I knew I was there when I heard Vera’s buttery voice echoing through the building. I tried to push the door only to find it was wide open. I stumbled in, much more loudly than I’d wanted to.
Vera: …You know these are things that good people want. Good people don’t gravitate towards good things, no, positives don’t attract. Good people writhe and wail ever so quietly, just loud enough to remind you of their goodness, to remember your lacking. Don’t you want to be good?
The silence on the audience’s part surprised me. How were they listening to this trash? With a straight face, presumably. Vera’s silhouette was a little bit visible, dim candlelight bouncing off her brown curls, face obscured in shadow. I had to adjust my vision to make out what she was wearing: some sort of mess of rags, carpets and blankets. How is she even standing up in all that?
Getting to see was a little surreal now. I noticed a man standing closer to her had a similar fashion sense. Are they all dressed like that? From under her massive, heavy clothing Vera stuck out a slender hand.
Vera: … thus, cover the flesh. The Lord took the gift of sight from us. Why? To cover our flesh in darkness. Clearly, he is trying to tell us something.
She snickered.
Vera: Folks, these are challenging times. And when challenge arises, we must do our utmost to uphold the Lord’s will. That comes in the form of modesty. Not just in dress. Say, you’re getting a little hungry. Just itching for a bite of a chocolate bar or, um, bread. Hold off on that. Lord knows it’s never too bad to lose a pound or two.
She pointed somewhere. I couldn’t tell if it was at me in particular, someone else in the crowd or all of us at the same time. I must have had the most baffled expression at that moment. Not that anyone could’ve seen it. I still felt seen. Her eyes were fixated on me, I just knew it. But, again, maybe everyone in that church felt the same. The icons of the saints, now shrouded in darkness, covered every wall.
Vera: In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen. Return to your homes.
She put the candle out with her fingers. The rattle of scurried footsteps filled the altar room. I followed the sound, unnerved by how coordinated they were. It sounded like some sort of march. I’ve known these people my whole life and seeing, well, hearing them like this seemed strange. My ruminating was interrupted by something small and warm hitting my thigh. Startled, I let out a yelp.
Jessie: Oh- oh, sorry! I’m sorry.
I hadn’t heard the kid’s footsteps over all the marching. As the sound softened, I whispered:
Henrietta: Jessie, you scared the… the… uh, me.
Jessie: Oh, hi! We haven’t seen you in a while.
Henrietta: …Yeah.
Jessie: You sound sad. You must be sad.
Henrietta: Yeah. Why do you think that is?
Jessie: I think you’re so sad all the time because your name is kind of dumb.
Henrietta: Among other things.
Jessie clearly didn’t understand the gravity of what was happening in this town. My world flipped upside down, I was all alone now. The kid was probably worried about her toys or something. Maybe that was for the better. I heard the crinkling of rags to my left. Her mother’s commanding voice caught me off guard.
Julie: Henrietta.
Henrietta: Hi, Mrs. Julie.
Julie: You should get going. We don’t know if it’s safe walking round here now.
I heard her grab Jessie’s arm. She whispered:
Julie: Come with me, Henrietta. We need to talk.
I followed her to somewhere in the church yard. I was disoriented, I only knew that grass was touching my ankles.
Julie: Listen, I’m not dense. And since you’ve been sitting your behind off flat this whole time, I’m going to fill you in. Vera doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The Lord’s come for us, yes. But were you listening to her? She doesn’t even know how to pray right. This is ridiculous, do you understand that?
I couldn’t help but notice she was dressed like Vera, though.
Henrietta: Yes, I know. Do people… believe her?
Julie: Maybe. No. I don’t think so.
Her voice was frantic.
Julie: Go. Don’t do anything stupid. Be careful.
She and the kid scurried away before I could get a word in. Suddenly I realized I didn’t have a single clue where I was or how to get home. I stumbled around, trying to find a tree, a wall, anything to hold onto.
A warm hand touched my neck.
Vera: Need any help?
I froze in place. How come I hadn’t heard her approaching?
Vera: You’re lost, aren’t you?
Henrietta: No, I’ll figure it out.
I tried to mask the fear in my voice. In what seemed like an endless pitch-black void, her hand was my only axis. I stumbled in a random direction before giving up.
Vera: It’s alright, I’ll help you. You’ll get used to it.
As she led me by the hand, I’ll admit, I was getting more than a little frustrated. Hearing her speech back at the altar was like a punch to the face, not only to me either, even church nuts like Julie, anyone in this community. Her holding my hand oh-so gently was worse. Above all, I was scared. I’m just trying to explain what I did next, that is, something Julie would classify as stupid.
Vera: What did you think of today’s sermon?
Her asking for my opinion, clearly expecting a particular answer, made me snap.
Henrietta: Ugh, are you trying to give the town some sort of psychosis induced anorexia? What are these rags? Wh-
I was cut off by her silence. The chill air made itself known again. Suddenly I remembered how tall she was. She was towering over me.
Vera: Everything’s got a reason, Henrietta. How much food do you think we have left?
I stopped to think.
Vera: That’s right. Even if we had warehouses full of food, how much time would that last? It would only *last*. Food gets eaten, honey.
The passive-aggressive wording didn’t match her pleasant tone of voice.
Vera: Please do come tomorrow. I have something for you. You’re cold, aren’t you?
We were standing at my doorstep. I reached for the door awkwardly quickly. She pulled her hand away. Thinking back to the conversation I had with Julie, I wondered how Vera could’ve come up to me unnoticed. Was she standing here the whole time?
I stood motionless, holding onto the door handle while she walked away. That ‘pspsps’ echoed through the streets again.
Okay. I don’t think I have much time left to write today. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I don’t expect anyone to help. Are the lights out everywhere? Is it just us? I don’t even know how or why this thing has internet access. How I got to this computer is even worse. I don’t feel safe in here. I’ll try to writr more latre