Night Walks

Your imagination is getting the best of you. Or is it?

A great restlessness sinks into my bones and I am invariably drawn out into the streets. At such times, the known world appears as a waking dream. In my limited sight, people emerge strange and grotesque, shuffling forward with some harmful intent. Distant objects become human, though unnaturally silent. At such times, one walks with nightmares and omens, spirits and demons.

Tonight I walked through a golf course, which seemed harmless in the light of day. As I walked I saw on one side a forest and over it a space in the clouds where bright stars glittered. On the other, bright lights became visible as the meager strand of trees gave way to a strange and alien sight. It arose from the land as a massive luminous beast, both growling and whining as it prowled onward. My eyes adjusted to the sudden change and I recognized it for a factory, whose property bordered the course. Continuing down my path I saw that it turned abruptly and followed it in hopes of seeing the stars, which the factory had dimmed. The sounds of the forest grew louder as I neared it and soon drowned out even the noise of industry, for which I was grateful.

            I found myself in a vast and empty field. The path ended with no warning in deference to the space beyond. I could see nothing beyond the field and nothing ahead of me, so that obstacles arose suddenly from the ground to trip or impede. It called to mind the vengeful spirits of ancient days, playing tricks to ease the pain of their decline. My brain convinced, I felt their eyes on me and heard the whispers of their plans.

Once I heard a sudden noise and whirled to face my attacker. As I stood, heart pounding, I registered the distant sounds of traffic. It was likely a car. It must have been a car. Not a person speaking or a word of warning. I walked on, growing more and more anxious as the harbingers of fate loomed around me. I discovered a bent pole embedded in the ground, with dark tattered flags that cling tenuously to its top. A small clump of trees then appeared, dark and foreboding in their nature. Beyond the trees I saw a border in the land, the smallest change in the landscape that made it at once wild and wicked. Here was the boundary; the wall that separated man from the fey things that lurked in fairy tales and children’s books. Here I stood and went no farther. Courage had long deserted me. I turned and retreated back to man made walls of safety.

Author's Note

I normally stick with poetry so my grammar leaves much to be desired. Was this actually interesting to you? Is there anyway I can improve it?

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

"What this actually interesting to you? "

The difference and contrast between wildness and civilization.
The sameness and comparabability of wildness and civilization.

"Is there anyway I can improve it?"

Separate the narrator from the author and make me believe in her.

[L. C. Rhodes]

Ha ha I see the typo now. Prose is my weakness, so you might be putting in a tall order. I can write from someone else's perspective, but I have never been so charismatic as to inspire belief where there is none. Thus I write my poetry, where I am free to speak clearly. You can neither see my appearance, nor judge me by it. This is better I think, for you will not be convinced to criticize gently when you should be harsh, or discount me when you should listen.

[Delmar Cooper]

I think I write from my perspective while wearing another's clothes.

"Thus I write my poetry, where I am free to speak clearly." I am smiling. Clear poetry, good one.

[L. C. Rhodes]

Thank you!