Night-time, Enigma

Midnight weighs on her wet brow. a massive dread for what morning will bring. His wheezing voice still echoes as she hurries through deserted alleys for a cold mattress and lumpy pillow.

Bustling clouds veil the dying moon above in the street of the sky. Night walks scattering poems of tragedy and los, his massive footfalls approaching.

Night wears a cape, his pale face glistening, in mockery of absent moons.

She knows she cannot outrun him, and slowing down she let him do what he always wants, giving in again.

Night is a drug of deep dependence, night is silent and cold but Day is harsh and relentless so she let herself be touched, seduced to believe that morning never will come.

She wakes in her soft bed, warm from his flesh, hearing a wheezing voice from the kitchen calling:

“Darling, breakfast is ready”.

Night-time, Enigma, and Nostalgia Arshile Gorky

Today Linda hosts Prosery at dVerse, where we write prose incorporating part of a poem. Today’s prompt which comes from Tulips & Chimneys, by E. E. Cummings and is the last line of  IX- Impressions:In the street of the sky night walks scattering poems.’

November 7, 2022.

18 responses to “Night-time, Enigma

  1. “Night wears a cape” love it. You have built a world here. She escapes into the ravishment of her dreams, which somehow (and understandably) are preferable to the “harsh and relentless Day.” Brilliant writing, Bjorn.

  2. Night-time is indeed an enigma, Björn! I usually have trouble staying asleep and wake up all times of the night and early morning but, since I got yet another chest infection, I’ve been sleeping through. I like the opening phrase, ‘Midnight weighs on her wet brow’ and feel so sorry about the ‘cold mattress and lumpy pillow’. I also like the description of night wearing a cape, ‘his pale face glistening, in mockery of absent moons’.

  3. Excellent use of the prompt line. I never think about breaking up the line. At first I thought we were in Whitechapel, and “he” was Jack the Ripper. Nice twist to the mundane reality.

  4. I wonder how often a variation of this situation unfolds among we married. Time can have a way of allowing dread to take root. Wd must tend well our garden of bliss. Excellent piece Björn. 🙂✌🏼

  5. “Night wears a cape, his pale face glistening, in mockery of absent moons.” Oh that is a gorgeous line.
    What a mood you set in those moment before the shift in waking. Well done

  6. What a way to emerge from a terrifying nightmare … one can only hope he knows how to prepare a proper breakfast! Your prose kept me on point throughout.

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