Essay --

Ive heard it said that even the greatest of work force are wise enough to fear the dark whether that fear is reasonable or not, Im not sure Im worthy to judge. But until youve felt the dark and experienced the cold depths of it envelop your soul, Im not really sure you truly hunch what it is to fear.Manhattan, New York, 1977. The sweltering July summer left the dense city sense of touch sluggish and apathetic. Id spent the day switching amongst my new television set and my open window (of course our a/c would break in the hottest month of the year), and I planned on walking a few blocks over to my friends kinsfolk so I could spend the night in her wonderful activate conditioned home. My mom was at work, probably wouldnt be cover until dawn, and so I was alone when dusk came, the sky still bright from the bright lights of the city and the last remnants of daylight. I grabbed my duffel bag and headed out, glowing to get to Jennys and relax in the cool air.I had just stepped in to the hallway outside the apartment when it happened there was a shape of jolt in the air. Suddenly, a buzzing noise could be heard, outgrowth louder distributively passing second, as if someone was turning up the thick on an exponentially-loud amplifier. As the sound grew in decibels, the lights in the hallway flickered and became brighter, brighter, brighter, so bright I had to wince to look up at them. I swung open the door to the apartment to find all the lights on in full blast, shining so brightly my skin began to burn. Slamming the door shut, I slid 2down to the floor in the hallway and shut my eyes tight, besides frightened to leave my apartment building. I was scared, sure, but soon I would find out what real fear feels like.A few transactions passed when, finally, the glare behind m... ...e, when I byword a single run across hunched over on the subway bench. Every instinct in my mind told me not to approach the shade before me. I envisioned ghosts and spirits a round it, waiting to prey on me, the Good Samaritan, very, very, furthermost from Kansas. But I knew that I had to reach out and touch her, my fret had taught me that much. At their darkest hour, the wisest of men are no different than us, the same outpouring acid pumps through their veins, and the same fear cripples them. What we all feel unitedly remains unanimous. At that moment, when I reached out to that sobbing woman, I saw my mother, and that dark subway tunnel was brighter than any human eye could bedevil observed. There we sat together, until the lights shuttered their return, holding one another in utter darkness, not saying a word or identifying each other, but hearing and seeing the love between us.