He stood tall in the darkness. He had a job to do - not everyone's idea of a job but, hell, it takes all kinds to make a world. He watched the world below - everything was in shades of black and grey. Not that it would stay that way - he thought for some philosophical theory that matched his mood, accepting the moment, accepting change but it wouldn't come to him.
He wondered why so many were afraid of the dark - was it fear of the unknown, or the loss of control of not being able to see as they can in the light, was it religious or even primal. He couldn't decide. He didn't mind the dark - it meant that peaceful and quiet save for a crying baby sometimes, or the scream of a cat - was it mating or fighting - he could never tell.
He shifted himself to get more comfortable. He watched others who called the night their friend - there was the baker who always seemed to be in a hurry to get to work, or was always running late. There was the policeman who strolled around, swinging his truncheon as he went. The night soil man who works furtively in the alleys. There was always one or two faces he didn't know - travelers, or people up to no good he guessed. Almost always he only saw men.
He looked at the horizon and saw the gleam of silver that separated the darkness from the impending day. No more time for thinking, he had a job to do.
Writer's Daily Prompts
3 comments:
Excellent little piece that beautifully shows the point of view of the roster.
I'm not scared of the dark - just the things in it.
I love it MG, really could see him perched on top of a high gable roof, just waiting.
I always love hearing the roster in the morning.
Thank you ladies :-)
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