I went for a walk at midnight last night, and this is based on that experience. Many of the things actually happened.
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The faint call of an owl drifts towards me through the otherwise silent night. My warm cheeks burn against the crisp chill of air; autumn has come, I can smell it. Huge, silhouetted trees form a lacy skyline around me, black against the speckled blue of the midnight sky.
At first glance, the stars seem to be scattered at random across the sky, like the spilled contents of an upturned sugar bowl, but looking closer, they appear arranged across their heavenly bed as if by divine strategy. They sit like diamonds on black velvet, glaring down at me, entrancing me, surrounding me. Each of the distant pinpricks seems to be scrutinizing me, yet indifferent to me, like sleepy cats watching halfheartedly as a frightened mouse squirms, outnumbered and cornered.
My feet are moving and I think they have been for some time; methodical and unvarying, they slowly push the outlined trees past me, but the stars follow me, holding my stare.
Suddenly, a shooting star cuts through my vision, slicing across the sky like the tip of a blade. I am still unable to break my eye contact with the stars, but I am now aware of more around me: Coyotes howl manically, closer than comfort would allow; howl follows howl, each building off the last, into an eerie cacophony. A mist is forming, wispy and innocent, but within minutes, I know, it will become too thick to see through.
I want to run while I can still see where I am going, but the stars seem to glow tauntingly even as the thought passes through my head. I can almost hear them sing “You know you want to turn away, but do you have the strength?” No, I do not.
Another star slips from somewhere in the sky, down into a black tree. All of the stars are falling sideways in perfect unison. What is happening? Something vast is rushing towards me, something that stings with gravel as it slaps my skin.
The ground has saved me from drowning in the sky.
Slowly, I push myself up. I begin to walk back home, looking down at my feet. The coyotes have been silenced, as if discouraged. My head is pulled upwards urgently, but I refuse; I will not let myself be caught again.
My feet break into a run, across gravel… grass… bricks. I open the front door and sprint into bed. Safe and sound, I look out of the window. The Pleiades glares accusingly down at me, “Cheater.” Briefly, I return the stare, before turning my back towards the window and burrowing deeper into the blankets.
The faint call of an owl drifts towards me through the window screen.
Nice job...keep writing!
