It was a gift to be full of light, because being full of light means being beautiful. And having beauty meant having power. So, every Hallows Eve there was a party to celebrate light and beauty. Only those full of light were invited, as the light caused them to look purely angelic.
Miguel Alvarez was never invited. He was always forced to do the dirty work of the attendees. He was forced to steal light. Stealing light from others was common for police officers like himself. It made him infuriated that he couldn't be at this party, and all because of a mole on his forehead. It was round and dark, and as a child he tried to cut it out of his head. This left him with a small scar right across the dreaded mole.
In Miguel's mind this was the only thing keeping him from this annual celebration of beauty and light. So he devised a plan. The plan was to steal the light from each floor of the party (as there were three) and make the attendees as hideous as he was, and get rid of all the light. This was done using his flashlight. Miguel’s flashlight let him steal and destroy light at the click of a button. He bought this flashlight unregulated, just for this night. At 6:30pm he stood outside the celebration. It was grand and lavish. Gold curtains were draped over the side of the building; the curtains were placed there to hide the real celebration inside. Now it came for the hard part: getting inside. His plan to get inside was to act as if he was a bodyguard for one of the guests. He slid behind two attendees and acted as if he was protecting them. But as Miguel entered the first floor of the party, he saw the pure beauty of the attendees. Though the lights were only dim, their beauty was obvious. This repulsed him.
Beautiful people thought they could get away with so much, he thought. Why should I be forced to act like a public slave for them? Just because of this hideous thing on my forehead? He gripped his flashlight, ready to prove how truly powerful those below were. The silver button on his flashlight was pulling Miguel to press it.
How much damage could I do with this flashlight? he wondered. Though the urge to press the silver button was pulling at him, he decided to scope the party, then press it.The attendees were all staring at Miguel and his tattered uniform. They're looking at me. At the mark on me. It's over. I can't do this anymore!
Their gaze frightened Miguel, so he did the only thing he knew how to do: take all the light away. He pressed the silver button on the flashlight. All the light from the room was whisked away into the flashlight, destroyed, it seemed. Immediately, the people were covered in boils and scars. Only a second after he turned on his flashlight, the people began to grab at him. Miguel believed that their hands were circling around his dreaded mole. The thought of this consumed his mind. The attendees were clinging to the light to try to heal their scars. But their attempt was knocked down, and the room was now pitch black and full of zombies.
Miguel raced across the room while clinging to the ounce of light from his flashlight. The zombies were grabbing at his legs, pulling him back into the darkness. As each hand grabbed at him, the contaminated body parts became full of boils. His tan skin ripped with each touch, leaving his rich red blood exposed. He yelped in pain, and the hands grabbing him just pulled harder and harder, after each of his screams.
Miguel pulled his body forward, inching towards the glass elevator. The monsters groaned and scratched at his limbs. He abruptly stopped, making them all fall backward. Then, he ran towards the elevator and quickly closed its door while several of the living zombies lunged at him, only to be stopped by the glass door.
Miguel slumped down in the elevator, putting his hands on his head. His fingers dug into his head; his breathing got faster and faster. Then he heard a ding and forced himself to stand up. He was mentally and physically exhausted, and he leaned up against the wall as the doors slid open. He was in a bright room (not excruciatingly bright, but it still made him squint). The attendees were consumed in their conversations and didn't bat an eye at Miguel. He stumbled around the party for a little while until he spotted a statue. It was made out of ice. It sparkled and shined brightly next to all this light. But Miguel wasn't looking at how it shined, he was looking at its face.
The statue was of a woman in a blindfold. Her entire face was covered with deep scars. Her legs were chained to the ground. Is she like me? She is trapped because of her scars. People must have shut her out, like they did to me. When she melts away will anyone remember her? “Are you supposed to be here?” a man asked Miguel. “What a silly question. Of course, I am! Why shouldn't I be?” “Well, it seems to me that your choice of clothing is quite odd for a celebration like this.” The man said this as if it was a warning as much as it was a threat. Miguel realized that this was a subtle threat.
How do I cover this up? Oh, God, please help me figure a way out! Miguel thought for a moment, his face scrunched up while thinking and then he responded with, “Have you not seen? This style has been everywhere, and costs a significant amount of light. Do you just not have enough light to wear something like this?” The man stared at Miguel for quite a while, his eyes were like daggers stabbing into the depths of Miguel’s soul. “Apologies for the misunderstanding, sir. Enjoy the party,” the man announced with suspicion.
The man walked quickly away from Miguel, and Miguel was left alone in the center of the party, next to the woman made of ice. It was time for the second part of his plan to commence. He looked at the ice woman, and focused on her face. The blindfold covering her eyes. Her subtle frown. It took him a while to get his focus off the sculpture, but when he did all he could think about was how he needed to do this for her. The flashlight in his pocket glistened; it was practically calling him. He pulled it out gently, but then he hesitated.
Is this worth it? No, I need to do this. To prove to them that I am their equal. To show them that what they did to me will blow up in their faces.
He pressed the silver button, and one second later the room turned to black, with the only light source being from his flashlight. The attendees froze, stared at Miguel and began to run at him. Their fingers pointed at his head. It’s the mole. They're looking at it again. Oh, why must it be there?
The attendees began to fall one by one, and their faces seemed to melt. Miguel darted to the glass elevator, and quickly shut the door. As the elevator door was closing, he could see the absolute agony on the attendees' glooping faces. Miguel leaned gently against the wall of the elevator, his hands on his face. His fingers circled his mole, but it seems as if it was harder to find now compared to before. One more time. I only have to do this one last time. It’s okay, it’s almost over. I can win, the light will all be destroyed.
The elevator dinged, and the door whisked open. The last floor of the party was the building's rooftop. The attendees here were so excruciatingly full of light, it pained someone's eyes to look at them. They were dressed in lavish clothes draping in diamonds, and each one of them had silver sunglasses to protect their eyes. In the center of the rooftop, there were bundles of flowers, all made of glass. But they were all bound together by one string of pure light.
This string. How can the light be contained by it? Does it absorb it?
In all of his life, Miguel had never seen something as pure and beautiful as this. He held his hand out toward the string, but he didn’t touch it. He could feel the light from the string radiating onto his hand. The scars that were engraved into his hand, began to fade away. Miguel was frightened by this sudden change, so he rapidly pulled his hand away. His eyes widened with a mixture of disgust and awe. He tried to divert his attention from the string, but he couldn’t. It was like the string had hands and was pulling Miguel towards it.
So there he stood, right in front of the gigantic glass bundle. Miguel looked around himself, and covered his eyes with his hands. His fingers circled the small mole on his forehead. One step at a time. All I need is to take one step at a time. He began to walk backwards away from the string. Once he seemed far enough he opened his eyes. His view of the string was blocked by attendees now, and so it was time for the final stage of his plan. All the attendees were scattered throughout the rooftop, just as he had wanted. All he had to do was get to a high point on the rooftop. Miguel’s eyes wandered throughout the rooftop, while trying to find the exact place to stand. But then, he saw it, a glass throne at the top of a staircase, which was for the one who was crowned the Majesty of Light.
That’s the place. It’s perfect. It will show that I have finally won, that they have been put in their place, he thought.
Miguel slid himself behind attendees, trying to make it seem as if he was a phantom. He reached the bottom of the staircase, and began to walk gently up the stairs. At this point the attendees began to take notice of Miguel, and pointed him out to security guards, thinking as if he was one of them.
But it was too late. He had reached the throne, and he was sitting on it with poise. The security guards began to make their way toward him, but at that exact moment Miguel gripped the flashlight in his hand, and proceeded to press its glimmering silver button. The screams were instant. Some were curling up in the fetal position screaming, crying. Others were throwing themselves off the rooftop, to end their lives without losing themselves completely. Miguel walked down the stairs slowly, it was all a blur to him. He passed bodies that had been torn apart by their own hands, others that had their own faces ripped off. Miguel got to the ledge of the rooftop, and as he looked down he put his hands on his head in victory.
But then he realized something. The mole he had, the one he resented so much, was gone. So then, Miguel realized that the flashlight, instead of removing the light, made the owner consume it. Additionally, he knew what he had to do to achieve his goal. The only way to destroy all the light was to destroy himself, and so Miguel Alvarez threw himself off the rooftop.
Lying beside his corpse was the broken flashlight. His corpse appeared the same as all the others, and he became the thing he feared most: ordinary.