Weekly Writing Challenge #168
I am a light sleeper. Maybe I have become one. Not that I wake up for no reason, not at all. I just hear sounds, sounds, not noises. In my sleep I try to identify them, like what was that rapping at the window? Or, was that stones falling in the courtyard?
I listen to the rain, I hear creatures moving. Also, I see marks, on mysterious old walls, and I try to decipher them, still asleep. Then I wake up, or near enough, and I can’t see them anymore. This makes me think, as I go back to sleep, that I may be inventing things.
The floors shake, the ground vibrates. Is this a dream, or is there an earthquake coming? The night is a long adventure, with short intervals. No ground to worry, it’s age. Or that is what I keep telling myself.
Old memories, the little demons amusing themselves to annoy me. This is it: they can’t unsettle me during the day, so they take their revenge at night, or try to. Bar a failure of imagination, I still have plenty of ideas of what they may be up to next, that is tonight. And the night after.
Image source: le grand homme de la nuit
Around them the circle of stones would be their refuge, their protectors against the demons of the night. She looked away toward the snow-covered hills:
“There will be our home. In the morning we will cross those fields, and then climb up. But tonight we will rest. The ancient warriors are there: look! They were expecting us…”
She showed him the stones, some erect, some lying, as if asleep.
He felt, somehow, reassured: they were now in her country, not so far from them, he knew, they would soon meet her tribe. He would follow the rites. He would shed his blood. Later, they would receive him in their rank.
Later still, they would have a child.
I hurried toward the shore, I was feeling an urgency to reach what may be the end of my journey, and even obtain answers to my anxious questions. The sun was already high in the sky, the eagle had disappeared, as if vanished into another dimension.
I was now running, avoiding the brambles, although I could not feel anything brushing against my bare legs. I could now see a patch of lush grass, atop a small hill close to the rocky beach. There stood the portal. I immediately knew this was my goal: the ancient medieval construction, which was perhaps the remnants of an old chapel’s entrance.
Light clouds were spreading across the horizon. Finally I stood, a few feet from the weather-polished stones, watching through the arch the narrow gravel path that led toward the water edge, as I let a strange but welcome calmness invade me. The only thing that remained to do was to walk, step by step, through the gate.
I took the first step, and saw the slight shimmer of light in front of me. “It’s just the sea”, I thought, “I am going home….”
Inspired by Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt, 6 April 2017