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The night rolled over bringing a threat of a storm. Light was covered by the rapidly falling night. The bright blue sky transformed into an ocean of blackness. Shimmering stars illuminated the moonless, jet black sky, as if to remind us that even in darkness there is still light. The air was still and heavy, thick clouds covered half sky. A cool breeze swept the alienated street. Owls swept silently overhead. Even shadows were swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
The warm bronze sunlight was swallowed by the horizon. The bright sunny day engulfed in darkness. A beautiful darkness. A darkness where my laughter lines illuminated and seemed to turn from creaks to craters as I smiled at the scintillating moon. The cold night tired me and I closed my eyes. Somewhere in the distance an owl sounded, awakening the nocturnal nature. The lustrous, dancing stars glinted in the sky, brightening it even more. I feel there is no such thing as darkness, as long as the moon is iridescently shining and the stars gleam above me, I am never completely in darkness.
Nightfall cocooned me in it's protective folds, they would not search for me in the darkness. Now I was protected and hidden in it's velvety blackness. I could curl up under the white gold moon and sleep under the constellations for a couple of hours, then rise before the dawn and follow the stream toward the river and the boarder to freedom. By breakfast I would be on the other side of the river Goklas and they can not touch me there.
By nightfall the familiar trees and rocks of the daytime took on new and ominous forms. It was as if by stealing their colours the night also stole their friendly spirits and replaced them with malicious demons. Even the stars and mood could not make them seem any less threatening. The lack of bird song made the woods eerie and I imagined every leaf flutter or twig snap to announce the arrival of a dangerous man or beast. I shivered in the inky darkness until the dawn chorus broke the malignant spell, their voices had never sounded so sweet and the return of the watery daylight slanting through the canopy above had never been so welcome.
Katie steps from the old beauty parlour into the street. Only a few years back she would have been bathed in the gentle glow of the street-lamps, now there is only darkness. At first it scared her, but over time it became the new normal. From the end of the street comes a light, a torch perhaps. She stops faster than a bullet into steel, heart pounding. Funny. Once the darkness of the night is complete there is nothing more terrifying than light. She pastes her body to the cold dark wall behind and takes out her gun, removing the safety...
The day is being swallowed by the night; slowly eaten and digested slower still. The night's mauve spittle is staining the marigold and medallion of the day, lines of aegan blue teeth ripping at the seams of light. The night is a dark tiger, savouring its tasteful prey of the sun.
The land beneath the night is deserted, for with the tiger's arrival comes threat. Long gone is the time when humans watched as darkness devoured the light.
But one stays. A small figure, unnoticeable. She sits against the tired charcoal-shaded building, alone in the metallic anthracite of the weary street, within the weary world. She watches. She is allured by the transition and the wonders it brings, the way it calls forward the creatures of the night. She is transfixed by the most unnaturally natural of things: its incomprehensible colours. A rare sight to behold.