Of the Night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

A little blurb inspired by "The Music of the Night" from the musical.

Submitted: September 27, 2017

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Submitted: September 27, 2017



The wind moved through the trees like a fool in love; mindless, unthinking, passionate. There was no end to it and it brushed past you as you gasped through your pain. You risked a glance over your shoulder. The creature behind you had no end to its energy and it easily kept up with your slowing pace. The smile told you that you were being played with. The teeth flashing in the light told you to run, faster, faster, always faster.

Every night was the same. You always waited in the spare bedroom, heart racing, breath quickening, nervous. Every night it seemed to take an eternity, but every night it arrived at the same time. You always feared it would never come back; you always feared it would return.

When it came back for you, as it always did, you let go a sigh of relief while your heart started to beat faster and adrenaline rushed to your fingertips, your feet, your head. The risks ran through your head and out your mouth. They only pushed two fingers to your lips to silence you, achingly gentle. The window, as always, was open, and you jumped out, landing in the cluttered alley behind the shabby, ramshackle orphanage. You waited for it to land outside, looking for the fastest way out of the alley, calculating how far you could run today with it and still be up early enough to make breakfast. It landed on the pavement, shiny shoes superimposed on old rubbish. You ran.

This time, you tell yourself, it will be different.

You always wait in the spare bedroom, the only spare bedroom in the orphanage, your heart racing, breath quickening, nervous. But this time you lock the window. This time you have a secret, this time you’ve buried yourself behind the extra blankets in the closet. This time, it will have to search for you.

You hear it, feel it come in with its ever present grace despite the locked window, almost silent. But you have known it for long enough to remember how much time passes between each footstep, how much time passes between its jump from the decrepit windowsill to the floor. You know it can smell you, all giddy anticipation and tense anxiety.

It nears the closet and your heart beats even faster, the secret slipping in your hand. You quickly adjust, anxiety slowing your movements, when the door opens. You’re still hidden among the blankets but you know you have been found. You still, but it already knows where you are. Clever little bastard.

Slowly, gently, it pulls back the last blanket between the two of you. You look into its heart and see what you’ve always wanted. Simple, unquestioning love. You don't care that maybe it's odd that you love a creature such as it, odd that you don't care that it loves you. But you've lived for too long without a rock to hold onto when everything goes pear-shaped. You need it and coincidentally, it need you.

You pounce and knock it over. You’re breathing hard, all nervous anxiety and fleeting hope when you pick up its hand and press a kiss to it. You take out the secret from your pocket; a box. It looks at you with confusion, looking at the simple, black box -that had cost you all of your savings- and back at you again. You allow yourself to touch it, trust its warmth in your hand. You open the box.

The wind moves into the room like a fool in love; mindless, unthinking, passionate. It flits through your hair as it presses its lips to your forehead, always gentle, caring, loving. A hand caresses your face, tremulous and tender, and something glints on its finger. You’re floating, falling in sweet intoxication when it takes your hand and pulls you with it into the night; far, far away from the garish light of day.


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