Memoirs of the night

Brigit's flame skrivarcommunity, september vecka 2: "Eternal"

I live in the dark. The light does not tempt me, the dark is my home. In my heart there is a longing for closeness, intimacy, but I will not sacrifice darkness because of it. My darkness is my safety; its protection keeps my thoughts precise. Daytime tortures my sanity, and drives my body insane. Light reminds me of my humanity. But I am hardly human anymore. Humans are weak. They have absolutely no self control. What has kept humanity alive is a mystery to me. They have a ridiculous habit of believing that every new day will bring good things. At the end of each day they are disappointed, but with each new dawn their hope is lit again. They live in a vicious circle, a dream of a different reality, but who could ever wake them? Humanity is lost. They drive each other towards their own doom, and nothing can stop the ending that awaits them. I could laugh at their ignorance, how naïve they really are, but I hardly remember the sound of my own voice anymore. I have not spoken in a very long time, and why should I? In my darkness there is no one to speak to, no need for words. Silence is a gift, and yet there is nothing that makes more noise. The complete silence uses winds and water as its voice, wailing in protest of being forced away to benefit the curse of sound. Its complaint is to me as clear as if it had been whispered in my mother tongue, and I suffer with it. I suffer with its anxiety from being chased away from its last remaining hunting grounds. I share my darkness with silence and allow it to create a refuge with me. In return, it tones out the sound of my footsteps and lets my world be surrounded by the stillness that I love. The only light I welcome is the soft shimmering glow of the moon. There is nothing more beautiful than to soundlessly walk in dark forests when the moon paints the wet trees silver and reflects in the dew covered leaves on the ground.

I have never written like this before. To reveal my world on a paper feels like sharing all the secrets of my soul, yet it gives me the strangest feeling of satisfaction. For now, time is running out. The moon is sinking, and I have to disappear. But I will return. Yes. I shall return…

(Jag skrev egentligen det här stycket på svenska redan 2005. Översatte det till engelska för att jag tyckte det passade till veckans tema.)