THE NIGHT FORGES ON

By Josef Desade

What is she staring at?

The wind’s fingers playing the fabric of her pants as if a harp, subtle shifts, and vibrations in the silence of the night.

Sand swirling into the air, a reveling dervish, yet there was not a single, solitary sound.

Off into the unforgiving darkness, towards a horizon beyond the parted curtain of sight, but what is there?

A glimpse of something beyond the snow white sand, beyond the rocks that jutted out; as if teeth, within the monstrous mouth of the eternal ocean?

Waves licking the shore like a salivating canine; hunger.

Lips moving; inaudible vociferations.

A solitary snail gliding along; a trail of honey, remnants of the luster of its soul.

Its body burns from the stinging sea; but it is oblivious, and free, one thought within it’s mind...persist.

On the maiden stares…

Motionless…

Emotionless…

As the wind traces her features; the sand sparkling, as it caresses her pale face, beneath the cruel sliver of Luna’s smile; that flickered from the abyss above.

Weather worn wood beneath warm flesh; stripped of color, slowly calcifying, skeletal remains.

But what is she staring at?

The snail has faded into the infinite, a glistening trail the only record of its burden; it’s tragedy left untold.

Silently staring into a mystery with no end; the night forges on.


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