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  • Darkness.

    Now is the moment of readjustment, that daily feeling of having the world unfold rapidly as your eyes roll up like storefront shutters in the strip mall you visited yesterday.

    There is something quite primeval about waking up in dark isolation. It doesn't feel right, it goes against every human desire we have to know what is in the world around us and our exact place in that space. The darkness is a toy for our imagination; the monsters that we once slung at our enemies have come to collect their dues. Even sound seems trapped by the darkness, for when we hear the faint shrill of anything, anything our ears search in vain to hear, it too seems dark, out of place, wrong.

    It is at this point that you realize that you should not be awake now. Something had dared break the bond that you signed with the sun, the promise to hide under covers as the sun hides under the Earth. What brought you into this improper place that you hid from behind your eyelids?

    As you wake up and stretch the boundaries of your sight ever farther outward, you start to become aware of what had woken you. You work backwards to find the event that brought you here.

    Footsteps moving closer to your door. The slit of light under your door is broken into three uneven slices, broken geometry spreads out across the floor. A knock.

    Who was this traveler of the night? We leave this, too, to our imagination. If only we knew this near stranger, we may know what brought him to our door, shattering the illusion of unbroken tranquility that we wrapped ourselves in on even the hottest nights.

    Ah, but isn't the answer clear? That very same knock, knock, knock only hours before would have been benign, an occasion of interest and not macabre nightmares.

    Who was this traveler of the night, the unwelcome visitor? Perhaps they were searching for the same thing that you now look for.

    What brings out those that search for answers in the night?
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