Words are that way. We must look beyond the reflections to dig out true meaning. Some words are sharp and defined while others are murky and deceptive.
My writing is like that by design. Let the reader fill in some of the blanks using their own life experiences but don’t overdo it. Readers want to be presented with a story rather than write it themselves. The meaning of my words can vary from person to person. Obscurity can bring out a childhood memory; they may wonder “where did that thought come from?” and then it becomes clear. Merge between darkness and light by stepping over a distinct line, like the sharp edges of my hand’s shadow. The reader’s experience can range from happiness to old memories that cause despair, and anything in between.
Peeking around a sharp-edged wall of shadow and looking outward, the world seems much brighter but less defined. What can be more uniform and steady than darkness? You can’t see what surrounds you. Your eyes adjust, but shadows loom that are impossible to see through. Sounds hidden during the day present themselves after nighttime settles in. Perhaps this is the greatest fear. Instead of stumbling among familiarity you must deal with unfamiliar nocturnal creatures of the night. Daytime birds retreat and other creatures emerge. A stranger who hides in darkness is not the same person lurking about in daytime shadows.
A new world emerges. Familiar ground becomes fresh again. And I like to use this realm of the unknown in my writing. It’s obviously fiction, but close enough to reality to make one pause.