short story
fantasy art






I hang in my room now, in my apartment, like a cave. I always have. secretly, I am a bat. I come out at night. I am asleep during the day, all day, every day. night brings magic, night brings joy, brings life, brings the smell of flowering fields bedding to sleep, brings the breeze the through the trees blessed with the moon's love and light, brings the love in my heart for all the poor, dozing things.

I live now in a place that is sun. it is the lay of the sun; it is the sun's love. there is nowhere that the sun doesn't touch, save my cave, my home, my apartment. if I venture out, if only for a little while, my mind becomes brain-fried, sun-scrambled. there is no escape. the sun bleaches out memories, loves, longings, despair. the sun leaves us all with a smile on our face, a forgetful heart, a carefree heart. we forget our loves lost, our loves gained.

there are no colors under the sun. everything fades, everything becomes the same, faded white. there is no despair, there is no longing. there is no intensity. the sun here, is like a lover whose intensity only leaves us numb, who takes away everything, all of our ambition, our drive, our will, with his love. he wants to consume for it isn't really love, the sun wants to consume us, eat us alive, take our life as much as he pretends to give it. here, the sun owns us. here, we have no reason to be upset, no reason to be sad. here, we must be grateful. the sun's possession of us is complete. the sun rules our weather. we must imitate, we must be the sun. carefree, happy, or there is no excuse, and no sympathy.

I want to live in a place of night, of warm night. from dusk to dawn. I like the quiet of the people. only I am little, am vulnerable, and night is the predacious force, the time a when all the carnivorous beings come out of the bars, of the doorways, come out to hunt. they want to hunt me. they follow me down alleys, down sidewalks, they follow me to my front door, they hang outside, breathing, waiting, motionless. I am happy in the night, except for them.

the night is a warm time, a time just right. filled with subtle light. colors come out at night. everything a pulsing vibrant. things are strange. people are quiet and loud and no longer just civil, they are no longer doing business. they follow their impulses.

the night is play. the night is when everyone's at play, when everyone expects to you to play.

some people, they think they need potions, they think they need injections, inhalations, snuffs, concoctions to play. I - I need the dance. I need the dance and the drumbeat. I need to the night. at night I will play. when all the business of the day is done, at night I will play.

© 1990 - 2003 Katharina Woodworth