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| alastar (profile) wrote, on 10-3-2004 at 2:31am | |
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| The night air is cold as I walk down the sidewalk away from her house. A street lamp flickers on and off, killing my shadow then giving birth to it over and over again as I pass. The black pavement is wet with the rain that pours steadily onto my shoulders. I turn right at the corner. I know I shouldn’t, not again, but at this point I cannot stop myself. There are no lights on this street, only the reflection of the moon in the puddles on the ground. I pull my coat tighter around myself as I feel wind pass along the back of my neck. The sidewalk is now cracked and slightly elevated from the tree roots underneath, and pieces of cement are missing and broken into bits along it. The next corner comes and I take another right. Most of the windows of the houses that line this street are darkened and few lights remain lit. Leaves are scattered lightly over the grass, and they color the ground yellow, orange, red and brown. The rains fury begins to die down as I turn right yet again. I know this is wrong, I shouldn’t be here, but I’m not in control. The moon is brighter now that the clouds have thinned, and the rainwater glows on the glistening ground. A puddle lay in front of me and as I come nearer to it I slow down, stopping just before my shoes enter its wetness. I see my reflection inside. With dark hair, dark eyes and midnight illusions on my side I appear a monster within this liquid mirror. I stare deeply into my eyes and ask myself why I am doing this again. My answer comes as a kick in the face and I continue walking. The metal sign on the corner ahead reads Grey Street. Not disturbing my habits, I follow my set pattern turning right for the last time. I see it in the distance and it grows steadily closer as I continue to walk. The rain has now ceased, and is only here in memory, within the puddles on the ground. The streams running along the side of the street carry leaves into the gutter. I can hear the sound, like a waterfall, of the water running into the sewers below the street. Before I know it I’m standing, again, on the sidewalk in front of her house. Her light is off now. Every light is off. Her car sits still, covered with leaves and tiny drops of water. For the third time tonight I stare into her window. The house is draped in darkness by the shadow of a tree that stands between it and the moon. The word ‘goodnight’, slips past my lips and into the frozen night air. My nightly ritual is now complete. Everynight I must make sure she is asleep, before I myself am able to. If her car is gone then I spend the night so restless, returning every hour until it has entered the driveway. Countless conversations have been played out inside my head, what she would say if I were to knock on her door. Sometimes she would be happy to see me, I would be asked to come in. Under different circumstances she would fear the words I said as I stood before her soaking wet, looking as a madman, and close the door. I would hear the lock click into place and loud footsteps running from window to window, and finally the backdoor. She would lock them all. But I know I could never be that bold as to actually make myself known. I am a stranger, a shadow on the lawn. |
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allisonwonderland | 10-03-04 2:08pm that is really really good ronnie.....and while i read it 'dare you to move' was playing...you should read it like that....makes it very awesome (but it already is so it's ok) |
Kate | 10-03-04 4:55pm I love it Ron. |
allyson | 10-03-04 9:43pm wow.. |