The Night Is Young

Wet Panties and Darth Vaders

I Believe….Chaos knew the full extent of her power. From her murky depths she bore, Uranus, Gaia, Erebus and the ever beautiful Nyx. That’s what Hesiod told me. The four are with us now, as they always were, taunting us. Chaos taunts me as I hide behind a bush wielding my water gun, Nyx thankfully covers my body like a black blanket. Lithe like giggles float through the air and the sound of water hitting its target isn’t too far away. I cower all the more, tight jeans cutting at my waist as I sink lower and lower into my crouch.

I can’t go out there where they are waiting for me, waiting to destroy something that took nearly a day to create. I’ll be damned if they mess up my hair.

Shanti,Shanti, they chant.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” Malicious laughter sounds a few yards from my right.

My breath stills as I move further into the crevice just under the massive bush. Still I can hear the laughter, and I’m aware of who it is.

“Lil, lil sis where are you? Come out and play with me.”

It’s almost sick how scared I am of water touching my hair. I’m sick enough to cower in bushes and risk ripping already torn jeans. Soon my knees began to pain and my thighs began to quiver as I hold my ground. It’s dark where I’m at, but I’m sure the moonlight is able to reflect off my glasses. Just beyond the trees lining the formerly deserted park I spot figures, tall tree like black figures moving, closer and closer.

What the hell?

The sight is enough to scare me witless as I continued to cower. I’m aware that my glasses are deflectors in this case, and if I ever had to run away from a murderer in the night he would catch me because of a glare.

Not that serious.

I repeat the thought out loud, but as I delve deeper and deeper into hysteria I convince myself that it is that serious. It’s as serious as the tangles in my hair I painstakingly combed out last night.

“Oh Nyx protect me.” Now’s not the time to pray to a mythological being, but I feel if I pray to something that my hysteria will leave.

Try praying to God, dufus.

My conscious is a real smart ass, how would she like to be in too tight jeans crouching underneath a bush all while her knees feel like they are tearing apart?

Big baby.

“Shut up!” Reflexively my hand swats at my own face to silence her. I nearly fall at the impact, and rub my sore cheek.

I really am mental.

A whimper escapes my lips as the figures come closer, emerging out of the dark clothed in all black. It’s more than a few of them, these ominous intruders, and they don’t appear to be calm at all. Their stride is furious and each wields a gun, black like their suit. Jeepers Creepers takes a seat in the back of my mind, kicking over boxes of Sense and corrupting files of Reason, until I’m..

Screaming.

An arm from somewhere appears in front of me and then a strong hand grabs hold of the front of my shirt. I’m easily pulled along, though the shirt is thin and breakable, but still I’m a victim to my own unmerciful thoughts.

“Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s a water gun fight…..oh my god---are you crying?”

Hastily I wipe at my face and take a big sniff to get rid of the water running from my nose as I stand up. I straighten my blouse and pull up my jeans, “No.”