Who was this girl who ran waiting in the shadow? I watched her from my window. A street of darkness pooled below, but she shone as she ran(, and she ran for miles, clear as a star.)
Soon I began to wait. A gear clicked alive as my eyes grew brighter with the image of the running girl; expectation glazed my sight of her. Who was this girl watching the shadow?
Here and there, I spotted lights. A blue one made me laugh but the green one was kind. I tasted the pink one when tears cooled my lip. Then a white light aroused a fury just behind my navel.
The girl was running from me.
I chased the white light. Who was this girl who ran waiting in the shadow? The heat of my navel propelled me for miles. From my window, I watched her as a proud mother. She shone like a star.
I realized I ran waiting for her to catch me. So I stopped. White light danced with the shadow. She was before me, white burning, and all the while I stood at my window, waiting, watching.
Who was this girl watching the shadow? She eyed my fury, prodded at its nibbling glow. A finger prodded at the nibbling darkness. Her eyes were pink. I touched the light like water, but it shied away. She cried.
The girl was running from me.
Cold pried my fingernail as I tapped the window. It comforted the darkness outside, comforted the light. Then I blinked. I pulled the gray curtains closed and went to sleep.
About the Creator
Mackenzie Davis
“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint, don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint. And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.” Lewis Carroll
Find me elsewhere.
Copyright Mackenzie Davis.
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More stories from Mackenzie Davis and writers in Poets and other communities.
Delicious Nightmares
There is nothing novel in the observation that a good cinema experience is akin to a waking dream. We sit in darkness and become enveloped in a world of images that we piece together to form a narrative. Sometimes the images overpower us and we struggle with the paralysis of a nightmare. And then the lights come back up and we take a breath to remember it was not real, we were not in that car crash, we were not in a fight, we were not a lover being romanced. And we need a moment between the last credit and the real world to gather our thoughts to find meaning in what we have seen.
By Rachel Robbinsabout 7 hours ago in Writers
Comments (3)
Very mysterious, and beautifully written ❤️
Interesting! the reader wonders what you did to make the stars cry. Nice piece.
Mackenzie, this was a really beautifully written piece! I loved your vocabulary choices and your vivid imagery you painted into the story! Its cause for some serious pondering and I feel like I'm still absorbing the meaning of this pieces! Nicely done!