This is a short story that was submitted to a literary contest whose main theme was “darkness” back in early January. Unfortunately I didn’t achieve publication success, but did receive an encouraging rejection letter from the contest judges (always look to the positive side of these things). Here’s the result for all you readers out there with various therapy derived memories involving an ongoing fear of black spaces.

Word Count: 4168

His Own Little
World of Darkness

It isn’t a total misconception to say most people are afraid of the dark. Even certain adults with yours truly to a slight extent being in that particular demographic. The major group it tends to have an adverse impact on is of course people below the age of about ten. My son, Riley, maybe because he happens to be in that age group has this deep seated, almost obsessive distrust of dark places.
For a kid this isn’t that out of the ordinary, but then again Riley’s fear of opaque environments isn’t typical either. More like a dwarf who happened to be stung by a jellyfish both times he set foot in the ocean. Now the guy’s got a deathly fear of salt tinged bodies of water bordering on wanting to wear a space suit every time he walks in above his knees. He also wants to carry a stun gun with him at all times, but this is partially due to the fact that he feels the gun accompaniment makes him look almost too cool.
I first took noticed Riley’s fear of dark places when my significant other, Heidi, began reading bedtime stories to him at night. She’d sound out loud the tale, Riley would be delicately balancing on the edge of slumber, and she’d silently tip toe to the door. Then all of a sudden the kid would immediately shift into maximum sugar load and begin adamantly screaming and yelling that he refused to have her shut the lights out. Totally uncanny, even after she figured he’d fallen asleep. Riley was so unyielding in his stance that he’d refuse to slip off into La-la land until she promptly turned the lights back on.
At first we didn’t think anything of the situation, but then Riley started insisting that we assemble a spotlight next to the bed and turning it on just before exiting. Neither of us thought this was too much of a problem, so we did it. Then Riley told us we needed to leave his room door wide open. This created a segment of the house brighter than the prospects of the local college’s star quarterback getting laid after attending a sorority party, and soon the two of us started figuring out new and innovative ways to close our room door without the kid noticing.
We considered having Riley visit a psychiatric counselor for his deathly fear of light deficient places, but discarded that idea when we ran across a front-page story about the local psychiatrist. Even though the guy happened to be the leader of a regional mega-church, and a leading proponent of high morals in society, seems he was carrying on a torrid affair with his fifteen-year-old babysitter. This isn’t that out of the ordinary, except when you contemplate the fact that the sitter was actually hired as a caretaker for the psychiatrist’s bedridden mother. The sitter didn’t speak a word of English either, which only adds to the bewilderment and makes one wonder how the affair even happened in the first place?
The aftermath of Riley’s latest darkness aversion episode had Heidi and I waxing nostalgic for an earlier time when the baby edition of our son allowed us to sleep for extended periods longer than twenty minutes. During our discussion we gave each other full permission to slap the other one in the face whenever they started nodding off. This kept the conversation somewhat lively and flowing.
Although my blood shoot eyes gave me the appearance of a zombie extra on the “Walking Dead”, in an effort to stay awake I kept coming up with ideas. “I’ve decided that we should ignore him whenever the kid starts screaming and yelling.”
“That sort of makes sense,” said Heidi. “What we got to lose, other than a few more minutes of sleep if it ends up keeping us awake? On the other hand, your latest idea won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Well for one thing,” said Heidi. “If we ignore him, Riley will eventually get out of bed and come into our room. The first thing he’ll do is flip on the light when he walks in the door.”
“Oh boy, can’t wait.”
“Actually I’m not looking forward to him standing at the foot of the bed and demanding we get up and walk through the house to check for vampires and other assorted ghouls.”
“You ever wondered why he has such an extreme fear of the dark? It’s not like either one of us ever had such a severe aversion to anything, right?”
I said it somewhat sheepishly. All these years later the thought still makes me cringe. “Actually, when my parents were weaning me off diapers I used to get upset and start crying whenever my father put on one of his Perry Como albums.”
“What?” said a flabbergast Heidi.
“Perry Como. My dad had a huge collection of his recordings. He really liked the guy. Me on the other hand, something about Como’s voice that sounded like Hell Hounds chasing after me. Every time one of his songs started it always made me flinch off to some obscure corner of the room.”
“This is unbelievable. I’m not sure whether or not to slap you so you’ll stay awake, or because I want to do it. You’re serious aren’t you?
“Of course, but that doesn’t give you permission to bring up this obscure fact about me at the next neighborhood BBQ. Whenever I heard Frank Sinatra it had a similar affect upon me. Although hearing his voice made me envision being hunted down by gangsters with machine guns pointed in my general direction.”
“Actually that was a distinct possibility with “Old Blue Eyes,” but we’ll get into that at another time.”
“So now what do we do?”
“Who says we have to do anything.”
My reply was fairly obvious. “I do. I’d like to actually go to work sometime in the next month or so feeling refreshed after a full night of restful sleep.”
“Ok. Legitimate justification.”
“I’ve got an idea.”
“I thought I smelled something burning.” The depth of Heidi’s smart-### attitude was boundless. Strangely enough, I found this character trait somewhat endearing.
“Let’s get Riley to confront his fear.”
“Easy for you to say. So did your parents lock you in a room and make you listen to a steady stream of Perry Como?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. They don’t strike me as sadistic types.”
“I need to finish snaking that wiring into the house addition. I’ve never been NBA-caliber tall, but then again I’m not exactly a yoga contortionist either.”
“What you getting at?”
“There’s a small crawl space between the foundation and the floor boards.”
“Ok.”
“Suppose I give the wires to Riley and have him inch them to the spot next to where I want to install the outlets?”
“What are you crazy? The kid is small and able to inch his way through all sorts of tight spots, but why should we place our son in jeopardy by having him squeeze a bunch of live wires through a crawl space?”
“The wires won’t be live. I’m not that cavalier.”
“And this is supposed to help him get over his fear of dark spaces how?”
“By performing the job and accomplishing it, he confronts his fear of darkness. This aids in Riley overcoming them and he reaches the next step in his evolution as a young man.”
“Evolution? Now you’re starting to sound like an anthropologist talking about a single cell organism instead of a pre-pubescent nine-year-old.
“Some parents feel like there really isn’t much difference.”
“This is true,” said my significant other. “Fortunately in our case, Riley puts his store of intelligence on display a number of times throughout your typical day.”
“At least that’s what his teachers say. I tend to agree with them.”
“So do I.”
“So let me talk to Riley and convince him to inch that wire through the crawl space. Hopefully that won’t be too much trouble.”
“Maybe you should bribe him,” said Heidi. “Offer to give Riley more time to play his video games on the Xbox.”
“That could work.”
“I know it will.”

Offering the bribe was easy, but then not so much. First I told Riley if he helped me loop the electrical wires, he’d get lots more hours to use the Xbox. Almost immediately he told me he’d only do the job if he could use a flashlight. This forced yours truly to come up with some sort of ######## excuse (didn’t tell him that). Mentioning to my son that use of the flashlight wasn’t possible since he needed both hands free to carry and move the wires forward. This is actually sort of true, so maybe my telling him not to carry a tubular illumination instrument wasn’t so much of a lame-### alibi after all?
Riley actually likes crawling through tight spots. He spent a large percentage of his diaper years building, and then squeezing his way in and out of cardboard caves and tunnels. I even helped him build one of these elaborate play structures on a Saturday afternoon rather than hook up the new washer/dryer. I’ll never forget dinner that night when Riley thanked us for buying those new appliances. Two-year-old reasoning telling him obtaining the cardboard the machines came in was the main purpose for their purchase.
Before we could even hooked up the wires I had to confront another problem. That of the mouse between the foundation and the floorboards. I knew this miniature nuisance was there since I saw him scamper underneath the planks as I was nailing them in place. Maybe I should’ve set a trap to catch the creature in order to avoid problems down the road, but I didn’t. This would involve extra effort on my part to do the job and one should never underestimate the profound power of laziness.
Plus, there were lots of spots where the animal could scamper back out into the open. Reasoning that the creature was smart enough to do that whenever it wanted. The animal was intelligent all right, and we discovered that fact in a most unusual way.

I wanted Riley to crawl underneath the floorboards at the height of the day, which was quite fortuitous for everyone concerned. Specifically because there was enough light coming through the cracks to make his mole routine quite a bit easier, but still slightly dim. Which basically forced my son to confront all his darkness demons.
Unfortunately Riley continued to be apprehensive about doing the task. This forced me to create additional lame-### excuses to have him do the job.
“Dad,” said Riley with the sort of look you only see on the faces of plumbers when forced to unplug particularly messy toilet bowls. “Do I really have to do this?”
“Yes, smaller people like yourself are necessary to carry this task out. They’re innately able to carry out these sorts of jobs.”
“What’s an “innate”?”
“Innate is the feeling a person gets when they’re sure another individual has the skills to do a job.”
“Really?”
“My innate feelings are telling me that you have the remarkable ability to do this task. I’ve taken note of this fantastic character trait in you since you were a baby, and as you get older your talents at being able to move things in a tight space only seem to get stronger. I’m very proud of you because of this.”
“Gosh dad, I had no idea I’m so special.”
“Yes, yes you are. Whenever you’re complimented it’s always a good thing to thank the person sending the nice comments your way.”
“Ok. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. There’s an additional reason I need you to carry out this task.”
“What’s that dad?”
My razor sharp instinct was now telling me it was time to pile the arguments on deep and thick. “Your mother and I just saw a very important report on the news that said when a person does something a such as what you’re about to undertake, it only enhances their ability to overcome their fear and loathing of other things.”
“What’s a loathing?”
“That’s when you’re really scared of something, but doing a certain task related to it helps you to overcome these fears and ensure that you become a stronger, better person.” This was sort of true.
“Wow, how do scientists find this stuff?”
“They’re capable of discovering all sorts of amazing things. This is just one classic example of that. It’s also a big reason why you should seriously consider becoming a scientist one day.”
“But my teacher, Ms. Tanner, told us if you want to become a scientist you have to do a bunch of math. I hate math. It’s hard, so it’s dumb.”
I didn’t mention this is the main reason why I’m not a scientist either. “Yes it is, but you should still do it.”
“Why, I want to be a fireman? That’s more fun.”
Good point on my son’s part. I chose to ignore this comment. “So let me show you what I want you to do for me. Once we get the wires in place and I finish setting up the addition, you can use part of the room for your Xbox games. Sounds pretty cool, don’t you think?”
“Wow, that’s great.”
Listening in on our oddball discussion was Heidi, who was pretending to be doing paperwork in the next room. Riley went to the bathroom, while once again my wife walked in and told me of her stated desire to hit me for no apparent reason.
“James Bender. If I had a dime for every wing-nut argument you use to justify something, we’d be taking our next vacation at a 5-star beach resort in the Carribean. You ever considered going into politics?”
“Once I thought I might like to try it.”
“When you came up with a particularly juicy lie, right?”
“Actually you should be pleased I didn’t tell him studies have shown that people who don’t confront their fears when they’re in their developmental years end up spending lots of money on psychiatrists later in life. They still never really come face-to-face with their fears either.”
“Yeah, so. What you getting at?”
“The example I was planning on using is that of a man who developed a deep seated fear of water. When he reached adulthood he only took a shower or bath once every few months. Totally chastised by his work colleagues because of that.”
“I’m shocked. That ones true, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s precisely why you decided not to use it.”
I choose to hedge my bets. “Well maybe.”
“Even though I think your manipulative arguments with our son have a certain smell stronger than the dumpster behind a day-care center, I suppose you should keep using them.”
“I’m thinking Riley believes me.”
“So do I. Whatever seems to work in this particular instance.”
“Of course.”
“So let me know how the job goes. I’ve got better things to do than witness your latest machinations with our son.”

I sort of felt guilty about getting Riley to help me, but not enough to have somebody else do the job. Interestingly enough, I’ve heard numerous stories over the years about how people have a hard time overcoming their fear of darkness. Seems like you see some sort of expose about the subject all the time.
Apparently a lot more people don’t want to admit they’re still scared of inconspicuous spaces. Even after they’ve reached adulthood, their fear has been nurtured and grown over the years. Very justifiable since I distinctly remember the time my older brother tied me up for no apparent reason, put that Perry Como song on a continuous loop, shut off the light, and locked the door on his way out. Someday Edgar will pay dearly for that, but I need time to plan the appropriate revenge.
For now though I had more pressing matters. First, I set Riley up with an older model headlamp I had collecting dust in the garage. Even with a new set of batteries, the light it emitted was as bright as the illumination coming out of an auditorium used for an Off-Broadway play that just closed last week. This was actually quite good; I figured it might be the only way he was ever going to confront his demons.
Next, Heidi found a costume Riley could wear while doing the job. She rounded up an old snow suit, which then had to be fixed by sewing on some patches and enlarging it so the thing would fit him (even Riley had grown a bit in the last year or so). This also made it appropriate for being sent to its next home, the corner Goodwill clothing store.
That was followed by me drawing up a map of the route I wanted his crawling routine to take place, and having him more or less memorize it. This wasn’t supposed to be a treasure hunt, but I figured by making it seem that way would hopefully enhance the fun aspect of the procedure. At least for one of us.
Finally, we set up a signaling system where I’d have Riley crawl to the spot where I wanted to pull the wires up through the floor, tap on the floorboards, then he’d pull back while I drilled the hole for the electrical outlets.
I planned out every aspect of the job, and partially because of this the task fell into place like clockwork. Right up until the very end anyway. Just as we were getting close enough to taste success, I heard a blood curdling scream that could only mean one of two things; 1. The dim light had finally caused Riley to crack under the intense pressure (hopefully not), or 2. My son had chanced upon a hidden portal linking the depths of Hell to our planet (only for Armageddon types wanting to take advantage of all those provisions they just bought).

Fortunately it wasn’t either one of those two scenarios. That night while getting ready to drift off into La-la Land, I gave Heidi the inside scoop.
“So you’re finished?” asked my significant other.
“Almost. We got to the last spot where I want to put an electrical outlet, but then that’s when I heard Riley screaming like a wayward banshee. At first I thought he’d hurt himself, but luckily he squirmed his way out of the corner exit right after that.”
“And when you noticed he’d crawled out in one piece, all was right with the world.”
“Well sort of. Now we’ve got another problem rearing its ugly little head.”
Heidi rolled her eyes. “Oh boy, what’s that?”
“Before I even had Riley pull those wires underneath the floor, I noticed a mouse scampering in and out of the new addition I’m building.”
“Why didn’t you come up with a plan at that point to trap and eliminate the creature when you first noticed its presence?”
Once again Heidi had backed me into a corner, so I had to come up with another elaborate ######## excuse. Luckily over the years I’ve honed this skill into a finely sharpened mis-behavior. “I did formulate a plan to trap the creature and get rid of it, but things didn’t work out quite the way I hoped they would.”
“What happened?”
“The trap I found in the garage and was going to use didn’t close so well. At that point I had to take it to Mr. Spiegelman next door to have him fiddle with the open-close mechanism.”
“Spiegelman uh. Ok, I guess.”
Blaming all sorts of things on our neighbor Wendell Spiegelman is quite often a valid scapegoat. Heidi gets along with him like most guys do with their mother-in-law. In other words, you sort of tolerate each other, but it’s a tentative peace. Plus, she’s only talked to him on rare occasions, which never gives her much of a chance to verify any of my white lies. As some people like to put it, how convenient. “He never got back to me with the repaired trap, and you’ll be happy to know I didn’t want to delay the home addition job any longer. I’m planning to get back to him eventually.”
“What’s all this got to do with Riley’s screaming rampage?”
“Now he’s afraid of mice.”
“What? How?”
“Calm down babe. We’ll get over this. Hopefully and eventually Riley will too.”
“So what happened?”
“On the bright side, Riley told me the longer he crawled underneath the floor space the more he felt like his darkness anxiety wasn’t that big a deal. Even told me it felt as if he was overcoming his fears. That’s when it happened.”
“And?”
“Right as he was crawling to the spot where I want to put that last electrical outlet, a mouse, and I’m assuming it’s the same one I wasn’t able to trap, scampered right up to him.”
“How close?”
“Riley told me he started screaming when the creature got to within a foot of his face.”
“Well no wonder,” said Heidi. “You and I would probably scream too if we came face-to-face with a rodent suddenly staring us in the face. No matter how small it was. My friend, Marley, had a similar experience and it’s scarred her for life. She’s more afraid of mice now than her 5-year-old daughter.”
“But Riley is a boy.”
“What’s that got to do with? Other than the fact that he’ll probably go into big government politics some day just so he can introduce an appropriations bill to have mice eliminated with miniature nuclear missiles.
“No sir.”
“Yes sir. He’ll grow up to be just like most guys.
“How?”
“They address a minor problem by going completely overboard with a solution to solve it.”
I didn’t want to tell Heidi I sort of agreed with her on this one. When she feels embolden it can lead to the creation of a monster. “Well maybe darling.”
“Yes maybe darling.” Once again I didn’t have any problem detecting the sarcasm in her voice. “It’s a male thing. So now what are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. How about getting a pet lab rat for him? That way he overcomes his fear of rodents.”
“What are you insane? Riley will come up with all sorts of elaborate scenarios to get rid of it.”
“Like what?”
“Like conveniently forgetting to feed the animal. Then it slowly starves to death and he doesn’t notice the smell since it isn’t that different from most boy’s rooms.”
“Or inadvertently releasing it into Wendell Spiegelman’s yard right when he knows the guy’s cat is wandering around.”
“That’s a good one. James Bender, I’m starting to wonder whose side you’re on, ours or his?”
“Ours, I think.”
“Getting back to the present situation, what now?”
Then it hit me like a brick. “Hey, I’ve got an idea.”
“Once again I’m detecting that strange burning smell.”
“Hear me out on this, ok?”
“Whatever.”
“How about we do nothing.”
“How’s that supposed to solve the problem.”
“It’s only a problem in our eyes. Let Riley figure it out on his own.”
“What if he never gets over his fear of mice,” said Heidi. “Maybe there’s a small part of him that’s still scared of darkness too.”
“Ok. Lots of people have held onto an anxiety about one thing or another right up into adulthood and they’re more or less normal.”
“True.”
“Some really creepy, but at the same time pretty good horror movies, TV shows, and books have been written and produced because their creators held onto some sort of deep seated anxiety and it led to the stimulation of their creative juices. Can you imagine what type of story he’ll come up with one day?”
“So you’re crossing your fingers and hoping Riley still has a bit of anxiety about all sorts of things. That way we can cash in on it when he writes a blockbuster integrating these fears as an adult.”
“Something like that. Admit it babe, a small part of you hopes that’s the case.
“You’re right.”
I could tell by the expression on her face that I was on the mark. Sometimes Heidi has a real hard time admitting I’m in the right. At times I do too. “So then its settled, we forget all about it.”
“You really want to do this?”
“Why not. Let Riley figure out on his own how to confront his demons. It’ll probably be a good thing for the kid. You might even say the situation will be a growing experience.”
“One last thing.”
“What’s that babe?”
“So now whenever I want to scare you into a trembling milksop all I have to do is drug and tie you up. Followed by making you listen to a bunch of Perry Como albums?”
“Something like that.”
END