The Dark Side

Clawson draped the sheet over his shoulders and pulled the knot tightly around his neck. He carefully placed his bare feet on the slats of the cot tottering to a stand. He pulled his long braid and threw it behind him. He mouthed his declaration to the single bulb shining above him on the all white ceiling. His raised his fist and leapt as hard as he could into the air landing like a cat on the tile.

He heard the noisy clanging in the hallway and skittered under the bed as far as he could.

"Shit, he's doing it again." He heard the guard yell to his second.

"The last time he did this, I was staring right at him. He is so white, I literally can't see him when he closes his eyes. He was wearing a towel on his head, the little bastard."

"I see him, he's under the bed." He threw the tray letting it clatter noisily across the floor. "Maybe next time you'll show yourself there, kid."

Clawson waited until he heard the heavy latch close at the end of the corridor. The peanut butter made the slice of bread stick to the wall. He didn't care. He never liked the two paired together. "Thank you for separating them," he whispered to himself. He pulled slowly at the corner managing to maintain the integrity of the bread. He licked like a feline at the splotch, until his wall glistened. He scooped up the jellied slice which landed upright and put it on his shelf to save for later.

The tomato soup was waste. It couldn't be managed. He drew his fingers long in the patterned mess. He imagined a centrifugal force had slipped through the space under the door and now inhabited the room with him. He could see boots sometimes under the door podding heavily back and forth. When the priest came to dispel those demons, he wore soft white shoes that hardly made a noise as he approached. That's how he was able to sneak up on them, he reasoned.

It had been a while since he had to share his space with anyone or anything. They gave up forcing him to go outside. The dangerous ones were out there and they hurt him. He would never go there again. He would rather die. He told them he would rather die. Still, he had to go to the shower, even though he assured them he could lick himself clean.

Today was his birthday. He was supposed to get cake. There wasn't any cake and he knew officer Bob had eaten it. He was a fat as any pig he remembered from the farm. Sometimes he could smell them again when the ugly swine stood too long at his cell. He would be eleven, he supposed. That's what they told him, anyway.

Today he would see his mother on the reflection. She was not allowed to see him. It hurt to see the black circles some devil drew around her eyes. That wasn't kind of them. She was a good woman. He understood why they punished him, but she never did anything to deserve the beatings she got from his father. He was still glad he stopped him from hurting her. It shouldn't be against the law to save your mother, he thought. But, each colony had the right to decide for themselves.

When the family gave up farming and went to the moon with the believers of Zoroastrianism, there wasn't much to do, he supposed, and that's why he was so angry. He could feel his father's rage coursing through him. Every day his blood was like fire inside of him. Every time he heard her trying to muffle her cries Crawley could feel it like a poison inside of him. He could still feel it and they knew it. They all knew it wasn't safe to let him out of there. Sometimes he worried he might hurt his mother, now that the demons had taken up residence with him.

He stepped circumspectly around the perimeter of the tomato soup which he figured, in truth, may have been the spirit's blood. He wondered if he would offended him by cleaning it up, if he may punish him. He knew the guards wouldn't like it if he left it there. He had to make decision. He was going to side with the being that could come into his thoughts whenever he wanted to, no matter how the guards may object. He decided he would eat the jelly slice before it was taken from him. He used just a small dab to write, happy birthday, above the bed. He didn't care if the evil spirit lurking inside the room liked that, either.