17. března 2018 v 12:53 | smartly |  Samospúšť
You wake up at night without a paplable reason but with a strong premonition that while you were sleeping, hideous forces were fully active and working hard.

I woke up 2:22 at night, alone in my room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, darkness and calm everywhere, distant sound of a clock in the kitchen. I had a strange lasting feeling though, that something was still wrong: as if I wasn't supposed to wake at this time. As if I caught something evil in flagranti and the reality I used to see everyday did not have enough time to fully rearrange itself yet. Everything seemed... unfinished.

From my bed, I looked up at the windows and I saw dim outlines of thin branches in the moonlight, bent heavily under thick layers of snow. It must have snowed extensively during my sleep. Everything was calm outside, motionless. Almost too calm, as if time had stopped and world was now hovering between dimensions.

Only the clock was ticking. Tick-tock, tick-tock: distant regular sound penetrating through a tiny gap in the door.

The door! My heart jumped wildly, as a sudden realization came upon myself. The strange source of my unrest - it's been the door all the time! But why? The door did not move or screech. Neither did the handle. There was no unexpected sound or movement behind it. Yet something - something completely inaudible and motionless - was standing there. I could swear on my skin that I felt it - like you feel a big object in your vicinity even with closed eyes - maybe it was the distorted air currents, maybe subcionscious sounds.

Locked in my bed, paralyzed, I stared at the handle, hypnotizing, begging it not to move. Please, don't move!

Outcast, beyond the last dot of light
of a city outskirt in the night
wanders restlessly of soul a shard
when another dream was torn apart.

Avanti, child! Dreams lead to a plight!
Adults dance on the grave of their heart.

If you only believe what you see, than you'd certainly say It is not there. Some say, though, It is there, but it changes so rapidly, that each time you try to put it into memory, it already looks different. And they are not talking merely about the memory of your camera sensor. Your brain works the same way too. Until it comes resting in your personal memory, your eyes are already bombarding your brain with a brand new version of It. After some time, your brain gives up trying to establish the final version of It, so you end up seeing nothing and that's how you remember it.

Noone knows, what is behind the fog, and yet everyone is taking selfies. Because a dim fog is better than total darkness. And each time they move, they create a blur. A blur in a dim fog encompassed by total darkness. Follow the lights, they say. All I see is distortion.

Alas, let us joy. Because sometimes, even a distortion can be beautiful.




1 Lennie Lennie | 17. března 2018 v 17:28 | Reagovat

"Because sometimes, even a distortion can be beautiful."
Asi by som si to neužila až tak, keby nemám v hlave aktuálne isté percento, ale...páči sa mi to. Fakt. A tie fotky len pridávajú k atmosfére. Až mám chuť tiež písať...

2 stuprum stuprum | Web | 18. března 2018 v 1:58 | Reagovat

Místo nokturn si zahrejme go online, lásko!

3 Džejní Džejní | Web | 19. března 2018 v 20:40 | Reagovat

vcera som docitala knizku Trhlina od Jozefa Kariku a tvoj text mi ju rozhodne pripomenul. kedysi som bola az prilis velky bojko na to, aby som vobec takyto typ textov bola ochotna citat. ale je na tom nieco hypnotizujuce, aj ked obcas ma od strachu striasa.

4 smartly smartly | 20. března 2018 v 16:29 | Reagovat

[1]: Tak ja dúfam, že písať neprestaneš :-?  :-)

[3]: Tak chytro pozrieť rozprávku :-D

5 Hrobárka Hrobárka | Web | 24. března 2018 v 0:50 | Reagovat

:-D pokiaľ si nevidel ako sa dvere samé otvorili a nikto krom teba nie je doma, tak je to ešte OK

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