Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Disturbed Nights
Scattering thoughts, fidgeting
awake in the dark
silent still hours. Shadows
flickering across the ceiling,
pinned beneath the covers,
probing for unfamiliar comfort.
Overtaken by solitude, breathing
cool damp night air,
pondering realities decisions
hoping to drift away. Moonlight
shines through the window,
spotlighting impatience.
Awareness begins to blur,
images fade like memories.
Fear, loneliness, uncertain
emotions dissipate,
body and mind succumb.
Restlessness gives in
dreams surrender to sleep.
awake in the dark
silent still hours. Shadows
flickering across the ceiling,
pinned beneath the covers,
probing for unfamiliar comfort.
Overtaken by solitude, breathing
cool damp night air,
pondering realities decisions
hoping to drift away. Moonlight
shines through the window,
spotlighting impatience.
Awareness begins to blur,
images fade like memories.
Fear, loneliness, uncertain
emotions dissipate,
body and mind succumb.
Restlessness gives in
dreams surrender to sleep.
I was Waiting
In her room she sat, gazing out the window, watching the darkness consume the sky. Unable to formulate her thoughts and words she grew frustrated and tired, tapping her pencil insistently upon the desk. In front of her a barren piece of paper, glaring up at her, begging for her to bring life to it. Hoping to refresh her mind and spirit she opened the window. The cool night air rushed in upon her, tossing the paper to the floor. As she lunged to seize the paper, the window slammed shut.
From downstairs her roommate called, “Julia, are you alright up there?”
Julia responded, “It was just the window, I am fine.” She placed her paper back on the desk, regrouped her thoughts, and sat back down to begin trying to write. She was absorbed by poetry, loved the idea of love, and wanted desperately to be able to produce a work of value, a work she could be proud of.
As she touched her pencil to the paper she heard a voice whisper, “Julia, why haven’t you written anything?”
She looked around the room startled, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She knew she was the only one upstairs, nothing but dusty old knick-knacks, overflowing bookshelves, and aged eerie family photographs left by previous tenants surrounding her. Convinced her mind was only imagining things, her mouth felt dry, as if it were full of cotton, she ventured downstairs for a glass of water. Returning upstairs she decided to leave her bedroom door propped open, hoping to not feel so unnerved, so alone. With an intense need to be freed from her mind, she forced out the anxious feelings and began devising her words aloud. “My mind restless, the night is quiet and still, shadows dance above me on the ceiling.” Without warning the bedroom door slammed shut.
Again startled by the noise her roommate called out, “Julia, what is going on up there?” Julia did not respond. Her roommate called out again, “Answer me Julia; what are you doing?” Still getting no response Julia’s roommate grew concerned and started up the stairs to check on her. She knocked on the door, listening for shuffling or movement, there was nothing but silence. She opened the door, dropped to her knees, and began screaming with horror. Splattered on the walls and ceiling were blood, dark red stains, dripping into shallow pools on the floor. Julia’s body was lifeless and slumped over her desk.
On the piece of paper were the words, “I was waiting.”
From downstairs her roommate called, “Julia, are you alright up there?”
Julia responded, “It was just the window, I am fine.” She placed her paper back on the desk, regrouped her thoughts, and sat back down to begin trying to write. She was absorbed by poetry, loved the idea of love, and wanted desperately to be able to produce a work of value, a work she could be proud of.
As she touched her pencil to the paper she heard a voice whisper, “Julia, why haven’t you written anything?”
She looked around the room startled, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She knew she was the only one upstairs, nothing but dusty old knick-knacks, overflowing bookshelves, and aged eerie family photographs left by previous tenants surrounding her. Convinced her mind was only imagining things, her mouth felt dry, as if it were full of cotton, she ventured downstairs for a glass of water. Returning upstairs she decided to leave her bedroom door propped open, hoping to not feel so unnerved, so alone. With an intense need to be freed from her mind, she forced out the anxious feelings and began devising her words aloud. “My mind restless, the night is quiet and still, shadows dance above me on the ceiling.” Without warning the bedroom door slammed shut.
Again startled by the noise her roommate called out, “Julia, what is going on up there?” Julia did not respond. Her roommate called out again, “Answer me Julia; what are you doing?” Still getting no response Julia’s roommate grew concerned and started up the stairs to check on her. She knocked on the door, listening for shuffling or movement, there was nothing but silence. She opened the door, dropped to her knees, and began screaming with horror. Splattered on the walls and ceiling were blood, dark red stains, dripping into shallow pools on the floor. Julia’s body was lifeless and slumped over her desk.
On the piece of paper were the words, “I was waiting.”
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