Flying Objects: A Toaster

Who would have thought that a toaster could become a scary object? It had taken on the embodiment of darknessnot a good darkness like the dark of night that allows the stars to reveal their bright majesty. No, I mean the darkness of anger and fear, of hate and sadness. This is the darkness I dread and fear and hide from. And, now the toaster was a part of this darkness as it flew from the kitchen door into the entry, hitting the bottom stair below my tentative perch on the landing. I shivered at the sound it made when its metal met the hard wood edge of the stair. I wanted to dash quickly down the stairs and save it; but, I was scared of its new role in this darkness. A voice inside me advised me to stay away and out of sight. Yelling. Crying. Such anger. Suck unbelievable sadness. My little body couldnt process the sounds. This darkness was too common. This darkness tore holes in my illusional safety blanket. Each sharp word, each sob, the pitch stabbed at my chest. It hurt. Jesse was called down and into the fight. Poor Jesse. Jesse was feisty; but, didnt they know that she was just a kid? Dont go Jesse. Just ignore mom and dads screams to you. As she slowly descended the stairs, I crawled on all fours up the rest of the stairs, tiptoed across the upstairs landing avoiding all the squeaky boards. Making it to my room, I quietly closed my door and quickly receded into a world far away. The yelling turned into white noise that blended with the cars driving by, the occasional honk police sirens, and other voices and noises that seeped in through my bedroom window. There was the flying toaster, again! This time it was empowered by an evil sorcerer who was threatening to take over the land. I stood as the peoples only hope against such a villain. Fearless, I stood up to the sorcerer, stripping him of all his powers and influence. I was worn out and had nearly been consumed in my battle against his dark powers. I stood tall, shoulders back, pantinga hero. This alternative world and this heroine persona are things that I would continue to carry with me into my adult life as my way of coping with a seemingly perpetual barrage of darkness entered my life.