In The Dark | Teen Ink

In The Dark

March 13, 2010
By Ben Scotti BRONZE, Bernardsville, New Jersey
Ben Scotti BRONZE, Bernardsville, New Jersey
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The sky burned red with the setting sun over the suburb fields of Pennsylvania, making the brown tall grass glow with a tint of orange in the strange evening light. Houses lining the black asphalt streets that had shown their lightly painted colors proudly during the day now turned dark, nearly resembling a form of shaded orange brown despite the common color of blue all the houses shared. Inside the many homes of the suburb, families busied themselves with the usual evening routine. Children played with their toys, teenagers did their homework in lazy manners before giving up and retreating to the TV or computer. Parents returned home from their day of long hours and low pay at such and such job they miserably held with sick pride forced into their guts. Soon dinner would eventually be held, the aroma of home cooked goods and re-heated leftovers would soon fill the windows with a light steam on every house. In some houses families would eat happily with each other, discussing their day despite how good or bad it had been. In others dinner would be eaten in silence or in anger by families whose joy and love had been run down by poor grades, bad bosses, or just the need to be mean an angry towards someone. Yet as this little community of people sat at their dinner tables, loving or hating, a war was looming over their heads in the dusk of the twilight hours. Out of the darkness a horrible evil will rise, men will fight, women will scream, children will run, and blood will be split on the hands of the loved and the hated. Yet this monster is no biblical creature from the underworld, nor is it a mad scientists concoctions sent to reek havoc on a world that’s does nothing but hate the sheer sight of it. No, this thing of evil of darkness will be men, dark hearted, hollow spirited, men. Men will cause this, men will end this. So in a sense of killing one another, the gun in our hands is god, and the bastard screaming peace is the village idiot


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