It’s night time again. Again.
Again.
Halloween has come and long passed. The decorations are
collecting dust in the basement, and the playful mysticism of ghosts and spirits
has been forgotten. Outside, ice covers the ground, sparkling and reflecting
the light from street lamps, making it match up with scenes from a dream. For
some reason, it seems like the nights go on forever. In summer, the periods of
darkness were brief enough to wait out, but now in winter, there really is
nothing worth doing, other than curling up with something warm and trying to
block out the sound of the wind, the smoky smell of coming snowfall in the air.
On your way to bed, you pass by the window. A bay window, facing the street, slightly
obscured from the condensation produced by the humidifier that hums on the
floor. You stop, eyes scanning the yard. Nothing has changed. You are still
lying on the ground outside, your hands are still cold, and your eyes are still
wide open. You turn and walk to the bathroom, and as you stare at the
reflection of red, tired eyes, you watch as they blink. Just once. And then
again. Open your eyes, and there you are, back in your bed.
Good morning.
(I hate winter, if you can't tell.)
(boo.)
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