Cold is the Night

The day dawns warm and friendly. The world stirs, swings its’ feet out of bed and yawns. 

The clatter of early risers begins, forcing those whose eyes are still prisoner to the chains of sleep to grumble and rise. 

Cheery cries of “Good morning!” and “Fare day!” swell to a cacophony of life. 

But night returns. 

And how cold is the night, filled with wailing. 

Oh, husbands, guard your doors and, therefore, your homes. Wives, guard your children and keep them close, for they are the future. 

The future that the night longs to rip away, screaming, from every doorway.   

(for 5. 22.2012) Absence Makes The Heart Grow Colder

(Double drabble.. sorry! :) ) 

He kissed her head as she leaned into him.

“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered.

He just nodded, unable to find the words. 

His flight was called and he separated from her.  She stared at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears as her jaw clenched, refusing to let them fall. But he saw them. He picked up his bags and stared hard at her, memorizing every detail. He attempted at a half smile.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” 

She shook her head, running her fingers under her eyes, wiping away the tears building. “Not that I’ve heard.” 

She screamed as the knife was thrust into her again and again. 

“Quick man! End it! Cops are coming!” 

Gunshots rang out as sirens approached, wheels screaming on pavement. Sneakered footsteps pounded in the opposite direction.

They left her, her blood pooling underneath the sweatshirt he had given her. 

She couldn’t move, everything was going cold. 

She whispered his name, and her bright eyes dulled, never to see his face again. 

The emergency help was too late. 

He knelt in front of the coffin, weeping unashamedly. 

He stared at her cold dead face.

“Absence only makes the heart grow colder.” 

5.21.2012 Trials

“You are my accuser, now look in my face” 

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. But I didn’t do it,” his honest face was twisted into a frightened, horrified, and helpless mask. His blue eyes begged the solemn jury to see his side. He met not a single sympathetic eye. His pleas fell on deaf ears. 

He turned sharply to face his accuser, who was looking at the table, a smug grin on his thin face. 

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Why do you do this? I’m innocent.” 

“You’re a murderer.” 

“No. No, god, no. Why?”

No answer. 

“Please, I’m begging you!”