Light vs. Dark and Good vs. Evil

I wrote one of the darkest chapters I’ve ever written today. And since today is the winter solstice up here in the northern hemisphere—the longest night of the year marking the end of the slow march into darkness and our annual return to the light—I thought it fitting my post today touch on my own fascination with dark and light and good vs. evil and how this takes centerstage in my writing.

One can argue that the archetype of light and dark as “good vs evil” is as old as humanity itself. It’s present in the very nature of myth and legend, in ancient gods and goddesses, and apparent in human storytelling from time immemorial.

Why does this archetype maintain such a hold on us? Why do we so thoroughly enjoy stories of good vs. evil and darkness vs. light? I think it’s because being human means grappling with this dichotomy within ourselves, as well as how it shapes the world around us. And it’s safe to dive into this topic when it’s just a story—just a thing written for entertainment.

Goodness and light are often associated with positivity, warmth, hope, love, and justice. On the other hand, darkness is equated with negativity and isolation. It can be evil, and deceitful, and it just might be cold too. At its core, it’s the absence of those positive attributes. It is lack.

And dark vs. light, or good vs. evil is a central theme of Transcendence. It’s in the monster hiding in a child’s closet and terrifying her in the middle of the night, it’s in the love story between Jack and Alexis, it’s in Alexis’ hidden and traumatic past, and it’s also in her discovery of how to heal it.

It’s even in the words I wrote today in the sequel to Transcendence, about a “man” as he sits upon a shore on a day not that far removed from the winter solstice.

He raises a hand to his face and trails his fingers over the contours of flesh, feels the heat just underneath the surface, traces the line of his straight nose, the bones in his cheeks, the velvety softness of his lips, the prickly stubble along his chin and his smile broadens.

To be of the flesh, of sinew and bone, to feel the heart beating in his chest as it pumps the thick, syrupy blood flowing through his veins, is an intoxicating experience he hasn’t enjoyed in millennia.

His hands are growing cold (how novel, how rare) so he shoves them into the pockets of his jacket and his eyes slide closed as he revels in the faint warmth of the distant January sun.

So, what is this “man” up to? Well, let’s just say that it isn’t good, and he isn’t full of “love and light”.

But isn’t that what we love about the light vs. dark archetype and a good vs. evil story—the uncertainty of what is going to happen? Will light overcome the dark or will evil triumph? We may want the good hero to prevail, but we also know that’s not always how things go, and as the world we live in shows us every day, even the sun must give way for a time to the encroaching night.

However, I am an eternal optimist and in all of my writing, no matter how dark it gets, there is always a shining thread of hope. Like the winter solstice reminding us that the long days of summer will return, that thread weaves through the paragraphs and pages, promising a future full of light beyond the immediate dark.

Happy solstice and the return of the sun,

Katrina