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"It’s not fair.”578Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKrC4uqdyRw
In the past, I heard so many people say that.
“My wife left me. How could she? It’s not fair.”
You probably gave her reason, I would think to myself. You should have known what she was capable of when you married her.
“My father died.” “My dog got hit by a car.” “I lost my job.”
“It’s not fair”.
He was old, it happens. Supervise your pets. Work harder.
I wouldn’t speak these thoughts aloud of course; not the done thing. I would think them with honest conviction while reciting whichever polite, mildly patronising response was expected of me in the given situation.
But this, this is not fair.
The light was ours, our right. Sure, we didn’t invent fire but we did discover it, used it as if we had hauled it down from the heavens by force. We didn’t invent electricity either but we caught it, controlled it, bent it to our will. And the sun? Some might have said the sun belonged to all living creatures on this earth. Bullshit. When we gained cognizant thought, when we invented machine guns and concrete and showed every other living creature on this earth that if they fucked with humans, or if they just happened to taste good to us, they’d be slaughtered, when we became top of the food-chain, A1 all-ruling predators, we bought the sun.
Then they came and things changed. It turned out we hadn’t shown every creature on this forsaken planet that we were boss; they had skipped that particular lesson. And when they showed themselves they showed us that we were never the kings, we were the stewards; unknowing caretakers waiting for them to reclaim their rightful title. They’ve taken almost everything we had but worse than anything they took the light. They stole it from us, took ownership rights in what may be the last hostile takeover mankind is around to see.
Vampires, werewolves, ghosts; every ten year old knew they only came out at night. One episode of Scooby-Doo was enough to educate on that score. The boogeyman that lived in your closet was banished by daylight. The unnameable thing that lurked beneath your bed was obliterated just by the glow of the smallest flashlight. Darkness belonged to the monsters, we told ourselves, and they belonged to the darkness. The light was our saviour, our weapon. But our imaginations and our myths, whether in our minds, on a page or a screen proved to be wrong. When the real monsters finally did come, they came in light.
They crave it, they love it. They are not nocturnal as every horror movie promised us they would be; they can barely tolerate the darkness. I have seen them move around shade like kids used to move around cracks in the pavement, almost without conscious thought. Even in packs they space themselves out so they don’t have to move in each other’s shadows unnecessarily. Except when they are attacking. Then the bastards will put up with it for a little while. And it’s only ever a little while.
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