Just Before Dawn

Just before dawn. The night holds day back in its steel cold grip. You step from the warmth of home and steal your way through ripping air, skipping between shadow and light. Like a heavy smoker the night leaves its scent on your hair, your clothes. In the distance you see a sign illuminated by unfeeling yellow. The letters under its conical beam stand proud and clear, but others fade into the dark. The wind breathes through branches. The leaves shake a verse to the morning chorus. The last ramblings of the nocturnal cavalry. A fox leaps from a bush. His eyes glow menacingly. He turns and vanishes, his lithe body twists between branches of gorse. A rabbit hops, sniffs at human discard, and hops on. A gull, coming inland from the coast, calls loudly to a mate. A car’s headlights search the road. The rabbit runs for cover. The car shoots past in a ball of brilliant luminescence. The light and noise fade, and the night creatures peer out. They know there is little time. Someone walks by. Solemn, in mourning for the darkness of the morning, and the captivity they walk voluntarily towards. Pale sky peers over the horizon. Night is leaving, for now…

About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on Niume.com.
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