The computer screen gave off a faint light.
Not enough to see much by, enough to see hands.
Enough to see hands and a stuffed bear.
A pillow as well.
Music plays.
From the computer.
There are books behind the computer.
The books are scattered across the bed.
They are about death.
The death of one man.
He is there as well.
But he is not visible by the light of the computer screen.
His eyes seem to give off light.
The hands are typing something.
They type about the child as he enters.
The child turns on the light, as children often do.
The man gets angry and breaks the light bulb.
He doesn’t want to see the books.
They scare him.
Terrify him.
The darkness makes the child yearn for light.
He strikes a match.
He drops it on the bed.
It catches one of the books on fire.
It catches the man as well.
The room starts to burn.
The child huddles next to the computer and grabs the bear.
It bites him.
He grabs the computer.
It shows him things children should not see.
It shows him things that he cannot un-see.
The hands grab him and carry him out of the burning room.
The man perishes.
The hands hold the boy close.
The hands give the boy a flashlight.
And now the boy can see.
But the boy becomes a man.
And soon he smashes the flashlight.
He smashes the flashlight he had loved so dearly.
Out of fear.
The child is no longer child but man.
And he fears it.
The hands still move as if to type, but the computer has been taken away.
It gave off light and the man could not allow it.
The hands still type, on the floor.
Type, type,
Type, type.
Over and over the man cannot take it.
He breaks the fingers.
They type.
They type the story of the boy and all like him.
All men.
And their hatred of the light.
And of the bed and the bear.
And of the pillows and the computer.
And how it is all tainted.
They type and type.
And they will type.
Type, type.
Type, type.
Type.
Until one of the men will read.