Blogophilia Week 51.5 topic: Last Exit Before Hell
(Hard, 2pts): Quote Vincent Van Gogh
(Easy, 1pt): Create and Include a Mystical animal in your blog
Final date to submit your guesses and to post your blog: February 16th, 2013 – Saturday, Midnight Pacific Time
Please highlight or otherwise point out your bonus points attempts. Correctly guessing who submitted the topic earns you points, as well as correctly guessing the picture “word or phrase” along with who submitted the picture!! Including the secret word or phrase within your blog content earns an additional point!!
Guesses: burning desire, hot love, burning for you
I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day. For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream. I wish they would only take me as I am. These words could have been my own, but they come from Vincent Van Gogh. I’ve said them often enough to think of them as mine, they sing from my heart and feel, as though they are mine. I do believe the night is more alive than the day. I rejoice in the moon light or just start glow. The sounds fill me with wonderful images that the daylight could never conger. The lonely cry of the coyote drifting across the fields through the darkness sparks my mind. This could be the sound of the banshee wailing across the moors, or that of a siren calling to the seaman through a thick fog. Maybe this is the sound that sparked the writers of the past to dream these mystical creatures into being.
Moon light plays among the trees, dancing within darkness, where no one can really see. The sounds that echo off the land leave me not to understand. Are they one in the same, sound and sight playing throughout the night? All the while my mind dreams of things not of the light, subtle shades of grey moving through the night. Is it real or only shadows from the darkest night? Maybe they’re nothing more than figments of my mind discovering flight. Shadows shaped like man and beast creeping not only among the trees but come into my home where everyone is sleeping. I alone sit in the dark starring at my screen writing this for all to see, telling myself it’s only night’s trickery at work haunting me. The creaking of the floor the shifting of things I cannot see, those sounds have to be my pets or mice overhead. I cannot let myself believe they are the dead, for surely they have better things to do than hang around filling me with dread.
You see my monsters are not real; they live in my mind, and I call them fear. Fear of what I cannot see the things that live in half-light, shadows in the day and in the night, something who took the last exit before hell, still looking for a place to dwell.
I know not if they have snarling teeth or ripping claws, they never stay in sight long enough to give real pause. Just a glimpse is all you get. From the corner of your eye or turning of your head but when you look again they are gone with only the feeling of dread left for too long.
I could deal with a furry ball having eyes like fire and paws with claws, whipping tongue 8 feet long and a snake skin belly so it could crawl. This I could see and know was real, I’d show it to all who would stand still. It’s the things that I cannot share those hiding in the half-light stare. Those are the ones I fear as I know they are so very near.