Night is a thief. Most of my stories are born at that point where I've settled in to sleep but I'm too awake to submit to it. My body’s heavy but my mind is freed from the weight of it, to wander.
Stories dance behind my skull, fleeting. I know they will escape to the place of forgotten things if I don’t write them down. But moving is such a task.
I am most vividly full of thoughts and equally incapable of capturing them in that twilight between wakefulness and dreaming. There is always the same debate; if sleep or catching the story is more important.
I am the thief this time, night will not take this tale from me but rather I will snatch it from the maw of the void where wayward ideas fade into the past.
This time I chose to shuck the pull of slumber. To wrestle free of my comforter and subject myself to the chill of evening air to claim these words as mine. This time I choose the story and I write about the very conundrum I am in.
I am uncertain I will ever know if the price is worth the victory.
About the Creator
Obsidian Words
Fathomless is the mind full of stories.
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Comments (2)
Alas, you have won the battle, my friend. Wonderful work!
GREAT WORK YOU HAVE ALOT OF TALENT!!! KEEP THEM COMING💜