Prose laden with imagery, 2003.
The clock’s hand slowly crept around as the minutes passed by. Before long, the midnight hour was at hand. The hour when Evil slowly crept out of the darkest places, the hour when the moon was at its highest, the hour…when Evil things lurked.
The sun was shining as Melanie stepped outside. The air was warm and the breezes played in the trees. The sun danced through the leaves and onto Melanie’s sandaled feet. It was a beautiful day for playing jump rope with her friends. Her mother would make her take her little sister to the park with her, but even that could not ruin this wonderful day.
The sun had completely vanished. The shadows started to creep out of their hiding places. The morrow would be soon here, but, for the next blessed hour, it would be Evil who ruled the night. A shadow passed over the moon, or perhaps it was just a cloud. Bats fluttered from their daytime eaves, and owls hooted in the trees. An icy breeze floated over the scene. The air was heavy and dank. Leaves fell, and an unbearable silence was thrust over the land.
Outside, at the park, children’s laughter was all around. Kids were running, jumping, playing, their colourful clothing surrounding everything. Melanie’s sister was playing hopscotch with some friends she had just made. Melanie was using her new, bright purple skipping rope. …Ninety-nine, one hundred! Did it! Melanie had finally completed her goal of one hundred jumps in a row and was now singing “Strawberry Shortcake.” The leaves were green and so was the grass. It felt soft between her bare toes. Fuzzy caterpillars were crawling along the flower petals which were strewn with all the colours of the rainbow; their sweet scent was flung into the warm breeze.
The shadowed ground reeked of rot. The movement in the grass was not the wind blowing playfully. Thousands of worms and beetles had unearthed themselves to absorb the moonlight until they harboured an eerie glow. As the shadows moved towards the cemetery, hands broke through graves. Bones started to rise, move. Parts of the air became thicker, wisps were seen floating by; unknown and nasty scents could be smelt as a spot grew suddenly cold. Mud oozed from every crevice. Wind howled through empty mausoleums. Evil grasped hold of everything, sinking its claws in.
Melanie glanced at the sky. It was beginning to streak with fuchsia and pink. The sun was setting, making patterns in the sky. Melanie knew she should start home with her sister. Their mother would have a supper of corn-on-the-cob and baked potatoes waiting for them. As they walked home, birds flew through the air towards their cozy nests. Fluffy babies would be waiting for their supper also. A streak of sapphire went by as a blue jay took off from a fencepost. Colours danced across the houses. Melanie loved the way the warm sun set, cooling off the hot day perfectly and dazzling the world in a rainbowed array of tints.
The darkness waited. It preyed upon the weak. Birds didn’t sing. Good refused to come out of hiding. As Evil ruled and lurked, bats flew and spiders crawled. Death hung in the air. There was no light except that from the moon. A lone howl pierced the night. Fresh meat. Rotting flesh. Devouring meat. Predators roamed and all things were bewitched. The Hour was upon them.
Melanie’s bed had never felt so cozy. After a long, wonderful day of playing, the soft mattress embraced her tired body. The blankets settled around her like a warm mitten engulfing a smooth hand. She snuggled deep under the covers as darkness descended upon the room. The radio lulled her to sleep. Everything appeared perfect.
Melanie’s eyes snapped open as a clock struck midnight. It wasn’t her clock. Everything was silent in her home. The quiet enveloped everything like it was trying to suffocate her. She shut her eyes to try and block out scary shapes making shadows on the wall; they seemed to crawl towards her. Melanie felt such a fear as she had never felt before – one so tangible it brought tears to her eyes. The Unknown threatened to paralyze her. She pulled the blankets close around her as chills raced up and down her spine like the sensation of bugs crawling on skin. She clawed at her neck trying to make it stop. She bit her hand in an attempt not to scream at something that ran across her bed. Why did the shadow grow closer to her? Why did her chest feel like something heavy was pressing against it. Evil was in the air, she could tell, though she knew not what it truly was. It was as though mud was oozing into her lungs. She lay back as she struggled for air. Darkness hung heavy in the room that hour. Unknown scents danced in the air. Colours were smothered by grey and black. Air was destroyed. Breath was crushed. Evil had cloaked the room.
The Halfwit Writer 