Paprika Southern 2, July 2013

Page 84

Before the Light by Anthony Garzilli, Savannah, GA A flashlight’s going to brighten the room. It’s only going to flash for a second and the room won’t be radiant, but there will be a hint of light. Pitch darkness interrupted by a sneeze of a spark. We know because we’ve seen it happen twice. The television’s picture is black and white, a security camera’s intrusion on three men looking at a flashlight. They are quiet until one asks the room for a sign, something that proves they are not alone. A sign that proves they are sitting with a presence. Something that proves this is real. They wait. They look at the flashlight. They watch. A man asks for it to happen again. In the dark, on a television screen, three men sit paralyzed by what might happen. In the dark, on a living-room couch, a woman sits tensed, waiting, waiting, waiting for it to happen again. The light. She knows it’s a television show. It’s a program with scripts and actors and prearranged drama and the light’s already flashed twice, but she’s mesmerized. The first time the men asked, there was a flash. She drew a breath. They asked again. It flashed. She laughed. They ask again. Could the presence do it once more, could it please make that flashlight brighten the room? The men wait. They stare. One man wipes his forehead. Another leans forward. She sits, tea cup frozen in her hand, then slowly set down, eyes never leaving the screen. Please, show us again. We watch three pairs of eyes watch a flashlight set in the middle of the room. She starts to smile. It’s going to happen. Dark will turn to light and back again, black and white. The woman’s coiled, knees pulled up. They ask again. He sees her eyes grow wide, like a child’s at the end of a magic trick. He sees her widening smile. The camera zooms. He watches her hands twitch. A light. The men gasp. The woman giggles. She believes in magic. He loves her for her belief. He loves her for her happiness in a flashlight. He’ll always love her for that moment just before the light.

Paprika Southern

page 84


Issuu converts static files into: digital portfolios, online yearbooks, online catalogs, digital photo albums and more. Sign up and create your flipbook.