The Long Dark by Billy Farmer (best books to read non fiction .TXT) 📕

from sleeping in their room. They said I was too old to act like a baby. Maybe I was; after all, I was thirteen at the time.

A couple years later, my grandpa passed away. I didn’t really know him all that well, but what memories I had of him were good ones. So, I was excited to go stay a few weeks of my summer vacation with my grandma. The impetus of the trip was to allow me to get to know my grandma and help her cope with her loss. I was sure that another important part was to push me out of the nest for a bit of a test flight on my own. After all, my parents didn’t want to take care of me the rest of my life. They wanted me out of the house yesterday.

The first night I was there, I remember being really embarrassed to ask, but too afraid not to, for grandma to leave the light on. I’ll never forget the look she gave me. It wasn’t anger or embarrassment or anything bad. It was one of warmth, but also tinged with the look of someone who had been reminded of significant loss.

She came over and sat on the side of the bed next to me. “You knowed yer grandpa worked in the coal mines, didn’t ya?”

I told her I did.

“He hated ‘em, but they wasn’t much else fer a man ta do, and he had me and yer momma ta take care of.” She stopped for a few moments and gathered her thoughts. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. You hafta understand ‘at.” She smiled at me. “He went every day goin on thirty years… worked his hands bloody so we had ‘nough ta eat and a place to sleep. He was a good man. I wont you ta never forget ‘at.”

I nodded.

I thought she was finished. Instead, straightened her night coat, cinching it a little bit tighter. “Yer granddaddy was a easy goin man –A good man-- but not strong of mind, ya know. As bad as ‘at cramped dark hole in the ground was on ‘im, it was the other things. The long dark. ‘At’s what killed him.”

She hesitated, as if she might be telling my young ears too much. “Life wore on ‘im. He didn’t always know what ta do with all his feelins – couldn’t handle ‘em, ya know. He finally took up drinkin hard liquor ‘bout the time yer momma was in the third grade. People think drunks are weak. Hell, I like ta see some of ‘em people work in ‘em mines long as he did.”

She realized she had gone off subject. She gave me a toothless smile, and started again, “The drinkin didn’t help… Nothin did. The smile vanished as she finished, “William… son, as bad as thangs can get sometimes, it’s awful easy ta get ta doin things ta try to make yerself feel better. ‘Ey ain’t no outs – ain’t no easy fixes. ‘Specially drink. Don’t go down ‘at same road yer granddaddy did. You hafta find yer light and hold on to it tight. You hafta to find yer reason to live.”

I was sad because she was sad, but I didn’t really grasp what she was saying at the time. Three years later, after I had suffered my fair number of bouts with depression, and while going through my grandparents’ things, after she passed away, my mom told me how grandma was so worried about me. She told my mom, “The long dark is goin ta get ‘at boy.” Grandma couldn’t call depression depression. There was too much stigma attached to that word with people her age. You were just lazy or weak minded or worse. Instead, she called it the long dark.

Mom being mom, of course, gave me her opinion on things. “I got it. You just have to be tougher than it is. You probably don’t have it in you.” Mom should have been a motivational speaker.

It was a hell of a crazy time to be thinking about all of that, but it was all relevant. Before, I lived up to mom’s ultra-low expectations. I drank, took drugs, and all kinds of stupid shit, trying to run away from my demons. The only reason I did so well with Miley is that I craved the attention from someone who was strong and powerful. I did anything he asked of me, good or bad, and he rewarded me for that near endless loyalty. Even then, the fleeting attention only left me more desperate and confused about who I was and what I had or hadn’t become.

But that night, even with the uncertainty swirling around us, and the fact that much lesser things would’ve previously had me scurrying towards unsavory things, a strength I’d never felt began to swell within me. With that newfound strength, I was going to do everything in my power to make sure my friends were safe and sound. That was my new purpose: we were going to fight the darkness, and we were going to live.

“William,” I heard Sam anxiously whisper. “Snap out of it, son.” He pointed to our left, to a house just off Okpik Street. Someone was inside, and whoever it was had a lantern burning in one of the front rooms. The lantern light and the person weren’t the problem. The several dark silhouettes milling outside of the house potentially were.

There was a small, dilapidated building adjacent to the house with the light on. We crouched behind it as we decided whether what was happening posed a threat.

“What do you guys think?” I asked.

Sam looked at the airport security fence to our right before saying, “Not much room ta maneuver, and nowhere ta hide if they up ta no good. I don’t know, boys. ‘Ey’ll see us if we try ta walk by.”

“The military is just down the street. I say we make a run for it,” Titouan said, agitated