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It was very much an uneasy feeling once you stepped outside. A whole decade has passed since the darkness consumed our land. But I found comfort in it. Comfort in knowing that it would never change. The warmth of the sunlight was all but forgotten. My father told me tales of when our home was the most loved in town. The flowers always seemed to be in bloom. But now, not even the dahlias seem to have color. All just a memory now. I didn’t long for light until one night.

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It couldn’t be real, I told myself. No one would ever set foot on this land let alone dance to the eerie melody of the night. But there she was. Light footsteps touching the uneven rubble of the old town center. I hid behind the columns just across the way. Maybe she was a phantom, or a remnant of the past or something much older. But something felt odd about her presence.

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She was bright, almost blinding as I hadn’t seen something like that in the dull landscape before. White iridescent detailing on her gown that was complemented by the full moon. Her dark hair was a stark contrast. I was stuck in a trance as she waltzed with the wind. It had to have been a dream. Which I admit, never wanted to wake from. A phantom melody seemed to play in my ears. She danced so delicately and precisely. She had such a claim on my attention as the moon seemed like a spotlight following her every move.

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But just as the breeze settled she stopped. Her back faced me for a minute. Too afraid to set my eyes off her I inched my body closer pressing against my hiding place. A snap under my foot. And there she was. Bright eyes gazing into mine. It was then that I was able to take in her profile more clearly. Porcelain skin, the light blush of her lips, the slight upturn of her nose, and her eyes: glowing, crimson eyes. Eyes ever so perfect I almost felt envious. But they held a sadness to them, an emptiness to them.

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As soon as I came closer. The skies deemed it was enough. It began to get darker as the sky rumbled and groaned. The clouds became thick and heavy. Suddenly it began to rain.

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And one look above from the both of us. Our eyes met again one last time and then, she vanished. I was left there in the rain. Wondering if my mind had finally gone from all those years alone in the darkness. Was that a small gift the heavens decided to offer? Or a trick from the ones below to create more desire in my heart? Because I had never longed for the light before this very night.

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I still dream of her. The woman who danced all alone in the darkness. Slowly her face began to disappear as I had forgotten what she looked like completely. I found myself walking towards the town square hoping to see her one last time, only to be met with the same darkness.

In every life we will desire what we can not have. Maybe even our desires long for something. Did the woman long for a partner to dance with? Did the moon desire the company of the sun? Does desire long to be claimed? It’s a thought. But I now longed for a light in my life of darkness. And I will die searching for it.

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My name is Arabella Yetlanezi Gamboa. I am a multiple subject credential student at CalState Los Angeles. I received my bachelors degree in Liberal Studies: Teaching and Learning from CalState Channel Islands. Currently I work for Los Angeles County Parks and Recreation as a Recreational Specialist Leader. I would consider myself a lover of art. I have dabbled in most mediums of art from ceramics to oil painting.

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This story was inspired by a series of dreams I had at a very difficult time of my life. During that time I had noticed that I was able to recall every dream for an entire week. Maybe it was a way for my brain to process my internal thoughts. This is when I decided to create a dream journal where I could jot down every dream that I could remember.

There was one dream in particular that I remember the clearest. A dream where I experienced almost every sensory detail. I enjoyed writing this story the most because it leaves one longing to know more: more about the mysterious woman, more about the town, and more about the overall mental state of the speaker. This leaves room for you, as the reader, to create your own mysterious stories.