Darkness 2

I wrote several months ago on darkness in stories, and I've been thinking about that topic again today. As I said then, and many times since, I'm not big on darkness. I don't think it gives a story depth just by being dark. I like to be happy, and so I read and write happy stories. I understand that's not for everyone, and that's perfectly alright.

However, there are a few dark stories I have read that I thoroughly enjoyed. Stories with death, murder, plague, fear, desperation, and lies. Stories that make my skin crawl and my stomach lurch and my mind try to shut it all out. And I enjoyed these stories. So for someone who doesn't like darkness in stories, who wants to be happy and make other people happy, why is it that I enjoy these stories?

Because they have hope. To be able to see the tiny flicker of candle light at the end of a long, dark hallway, and to know that if you keep pushing eventually you'll be able to get to it and experience its light and warmth after a terrible suffering of frigid cold and black. That is what makes me enjoy dark stories. When I can believe that somehow there is a chance of happiness at the end of the tunnel. That things will get sorted out, even some things are lost along the way.

When I talked about darkness last, I mentioned my distaste for Game of Thrones. This was one of the reasons for that. At the end of the first book, there was only one character who had any hope in her future, and it was only after having everything she knew in life torn away from her. It was a hope that meant little to me, because I felt that it meant little to her. It was a stretch, a belief in something that had little to no basis in reality, and she was far away from the events of the rest of the characters and plot.

I understand that this doesn't bother some people. Perhaps a lot of people. But it bothers me, because why would I want to hear about the downfall of people? Why would I want to experience an extended story of nothing but pain and frustrations? If I wanted to do that, I could much easier pick up a newsletter, or turn on the news.

That candle at the end of the hallway doesn't have to be bright. It can be as dim as you want it, as far away as you can imagine, as seemingly unattainable as the stars. It just has to be there. That's all I ask for. I don't know if I could ever personally write an excessively dark story, but you can know for sure that if I did, there would be hope in there. Hope that things will get better, and that they will be worth it. You may question if that hope will ever get there. But it will always linger, somewhere in the background.