Crawlspace

  ***

  Time and light are almost always connected in one fashion or another and so it was with Tom. Time for him had evaporated in the darkness and left him alone with eternity.

  Then, one day, light returned to the crawlspace. With it, time returned as well.

  The light arrived with no sound or fanfare.

  Tom was lying in his usual spot, from which he moved only on the most infrequent occasion to feed or to drink, or occasionally to void elsewhere, though more often than not he would let go wherever he lay. His eyes were open, unseeing in the darkness, when the crawlspace door pushed open.

  Light streamed through the opening, and the early morning sun peeked into the darkest corners of the crawlspace.

  Tom did not react at all at first, his sense of sight so wasted in the darkness that his eyes were unable at first to interpret the forgotten sensation.

  After a few moments, Tom licked his dry, cracked lips and blinked. His scarred hands, fingertips blackened and dead from the frost, clenched into fists as he turned his head towards the open crawlspace door.

  The warmth of the sunlight caressed his face like some long-forgotten but cherished childhood dream. His body, as if by instinct, began to slowly move towards the light.

  The radiance beckoned him, and he dragged himself through the mire hand over hand, clawing at the earth beneath.

  With great effort, he squirmed his way through the crawlspace door, slowly emerging into the sunlight. Anyone who might have seen his expulsion from the small dark hole could be forgiven for thinking they were witnessing a house giving birth to a human.

  He lay panting on the ground, covered in afterbirth of dried blood, mud, and other bodily fluids, his nude body still mostly wrapped in the womb of plastic sheeting he had created during his long gestation underneath the house.

  He made his way to his feet, wobbly and uncertain at first like a newborn foal; his eyes blinked rapidly in the bright sunshine, as he tried to comprehend the new world around him.

  A look of awareness, of remembering, rose slowly in his eyes. He surveyed the house for a moment, the crawlspace door, the yard around him and the world that lay beyond.

  He made his way toward the front of the house on shaky legs, dragging his feet along in a clunky shuffle. He arrived at the steps that lead up to the main entrance.

  He ascended the stairs one at a time with great care and deliberation, stopping to rest briefly on each one. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the top. The front door to his house stood open. It beckoned him and he entered.

  The aroma of freshly-prepared food floated into his senses like angels on clouds. He saw his wife watching him from the kitchen down the hall. How long had it been since he had last seen her? She looked younger than he remembered. Her demeanor was relaxed, refreshed, like she’d never felt better in her entire life. Her eyes sparkled.

  Tom stood motionless in the front doorway, naked and covered in his own filth, lost in the sight of her. She smiled and unfolded her arms, bidding him forward.

  “Come here,” she said softly in the most silken voice he had ever heard.

  He stumbled to her.

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his ravaged body close to hers with a gentle embrace, rocking him gently like a mother with her child.

  She smelled of lavender and vanilla.

  “I love you, Tom,” she whispered, and kissed him lightly on his filthy cheek.

  He rested his head on her breast, closed his eyes, and began to cry.

  ***