Prompt #6: Darkness
Dec. 27th, 2003 05:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ambitious_wenchFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thetendermuse
Darkness
It's amazing how the world changes with nightfall. No, really, not to be clichéd, but in more than just the standard "getting darker now, does that every day about this time" sort of way.
Like smells. No, it's not because other senses get stronger when we can't see. That's a lie we perpetrate to make ourselves feel better when we see someone with a guide dog and dark glasses. The senses don't get stronger. We do tend to pay more attention to them in the dark, but they aren't really any more strong than the daytime. Besides which, smells tend to increase at night, like the smell of night blooming flowers.
One evening I sat on the deck of my friends' house in New London, Ct. It was summer, and as the sun sank, the nigh came alive around us. It's one thing to smell dog roses during the day. It's the quintessential scent of roses, rich and sweet, slightly musky. Rick and I drank homebrew beer, a rich dark stout with a sweet finish. The warm air filled with the scent of the wild roses growing below us. Crickets sang. And slowly, like somnolent stars, fireflies lit up, and began their odd nocturnal dance among the tree trunks.
I swatted mosquitoes. Rick lit the citronella candle. I still swatted mosquitoes.
It didn't matter. We sat in silence together, drinking our beer along with the night.
This story has no point. Other than a raccoon coming to visit the cat food bowl, then stopping halfway up the stairs when it realized we were there, nothing of note happened.
Rich and were the sort of comfortable friends that we could simply sit in silence together, each happy within our own skins.
I carry the memory of that dark night with a certain pleasure. Nobody could make beer like Rick did. It was better than Guinness. The closest I ever came to tasting it again was McEwan's.
And I when smell dog roses in summer, I think that I should return in the night for the fuller, richer fragrance, but I never do.
thetendermuseDarkness
It's amazing how the world changes with nightfall. No, really, not to be clichéd, but in more than just the standard "getting darker now, does that every day about this time" sort of way.
Like smells. No, it's not because other senses get stronger when we can't see. That's a lie we perpetrate to make ourselves feel better when we see someone with a guide dog and dark glasses. The senses don't get stronger. We do tend to pay more attention to them in the dark, but they aren't really any more strong than the daytime. Besides which, smells tend to increase at night, like the smell of night blooming flowers.
One evening I sat on the deck of my friends' house in New London, Ct. It was summer, and as the sun sank, the nigh came alive around us. It's one thing to smell dog roses during the day. It's the quintessential scent of roses, rich and sweet, slightly musky. Rick and I drank homebrew beer, a rich dark stout with a sweet finish. The warm air filled with the scent of the wild roses growing below us. Crickets sang. And slowly, like somnolent stars, fireflies lit up, and began their odd nocturnal dance among the tree trunks.
I swatted mosquitoes. Rick lit the citronella candle. I still swatted mosquitoes.
It didn't matter. We sat in silence together, drinking our beer along with the night.
This story has no point. Other than a raccoon coming to visit the cat food bowl, then stopping halfway up the stairs when it realized we were there, nothing of note happened.
Rich and were the sort of comfortable friends that we could simply sit in silence together, each happy within our own skins.
I carry the memory of that dark night with a certain pleasure. Nobody could make beer like Rick did. It was better than Guinness. The closest I ever came to tasting it again was McEwan's.
And I when smell dog roses in summer, I think that I should return in the night for the fuller, richer fragrance, but I never do.