Night Watch

(Part I - What Remains) Chapter One

Winter: After the Storm

The winter winds arrived and the first pebbles of snow clung to the grim pine trees looming over Blackwell Creek. A hazy mist of grey hovered in the air under the black-clouded sky as the shrouded woods beside the wintry cabin seemed to whisper chilled words of doom. On the riverbank a lone daffodil losing her bright tint of sunlight laid curled up under a lifeless wooden sign. "A Gift For The Night", read the sign. The pale green grass grew high and stood in front of the cabin's window that overlooked the racing river whose sounds of water provoked thoughts of self. The arctic hands brushed a boy's red cheeks as he crept his way down the muddy slope from the cabin to the riverbank. His desolate eyes struck the sign, then the daffodil, then the river whispering sweet chaotic songs. The brown and white deer on his beanie seemed to live in peace with his wearer's shattered life. The boy stood at the site for ten minutes, then turned around and went back up the slope, and entered the cabin. The sobbing sky began to melt into pure blackness and the land began to welcome dusk. The boy snuffed out his fireplace and got off his rocking chair to shut the blinds of his windows. He silently placed a congested bookshelf brimming with knowledge against the entrance, then grabbed a cooking tutorial booklet from the blockade and sat himself down on the love couch draped with a pure cotton hot chocolate blanket. He lit a dim candle of pumpkin aroma and dived into his cooking book. He let his eyes glaze over the tutorials on how to bake a casserole and began analyzing another's notes in the margins on how to set bear traps, tie a noose, and to stitch yourself shut. His eyes read the notes, triggering memories of days before as his fingers wandered and caressed his rope burns on his neck and he winced quietly upon contact.
The winds began to pick up outside and light snow fell gently as the moon peaked its stark head out from behind the black void. From the black woods came the soft whispers of dusk, and so the boy leaned in to the candle he lit and with a brisk puff a certain darkness consumed him. Faint blue moonlight crept thinly through the vertical blinds as the boy edged towards it. With his body in darkness he watched from an angle the outside world, as the sky cried white tears. Frigid whispers returned, and the boy slithered to an armchair positioned next to an end table. He leaned back into it and set a suppressed Beretta M9 gently on the end table beside him as he dwelled in darkness. He sat still as whispers surrounded the cabin and black figures passed by the windows. The wind howled outside and played a tune of death with the whispers. The boy shut his heavy eyes as Blackwell Creek embraced sundown.