The Night - Original Writing

Rion calmed from his night terror easily, and he and Percival went back to sleep. When morning arrived, Rion shot out of bed with a grin, full of his typical energy. He had no memory of his tears and screaming the previous night, which was just as well; the boy deserved peace after all the heartache he had weathered.

A little light shone in from an unknown point, so she could see everything faintly in dim light. It was a dark figure dancing and swaying around in what was supposed to be the living room.

The walls were cream colored, and the furniture white. She had record player and a small, organized desk on the wall opposite the lilac bed. There was a bookcase and a nightstand on either side of the bed. Pink lace curtains were kept open at the window and a small pile of cardboard boxes were stacked up in the corner.

She was staring at a wall. Metal, with a greenish tint to it’s cold, water stained surface. Confused and still half-asleep,

The walls were a simple shade of something that reminded her faintly of a skintone, tan and light at the same time, if that makes any sense at all. It stayed the same color all the way to the ceiling and the floors, and those were a lighter shade of brown. The trim was a very dark shade of the floor and ceiling, and it went all the way around without stopping, except for the bottom trim that stopped at the black door in front of them.

He raced out of the room and down the stairs. When he entered the sitting room he saw her standing with her back to him looking at the pictures on the mantel.

glancing at the new sitting room that they made into a television and game room. He smiled as

The room was dull the only light glows from a lamp sitting on a wooden night stand next to a large double bed. He’ll come in any moment. She thinks. Walking about the room her eyes land on an arm chair that sat in the corner of the room next to a tall bookshelf.

When she walked into the small room, she saw the queen sized bed with the old quilted cover with its navy and white blocks. She also recognized all the old pictures of her family hanging in a row next to the chest of drawers that was stained brown.

When she saw who was at the door, she rose and looked around the room to settle what memories she had of the place. It was told to her by many that this was her mother’s favorite home. Now she would never see it again.

Waiting, she stared out the window of the back door. Where was her husband? Where were her children? She hated it when they were late. Her rotten husband knew it too. She paced back and forth going toward the living room and doubling back.

The Prince looked anxiously around the room. “Um, you, the-the TV, the, uh, carpet, table, and-and the blinds over the window.”

To the left, a cool white kitchen with a swanky breakfast bar and pendant lights. Her mom appeared ready to drool. To the right, a gorgeous great room in whites, creams and browns. A plush beige sectional and chairs centered the space. A glass coffee table, marble fireplace and—gasp!—huge flat screen TV filled out the rest of the room. The far wall had a floor to ceiling bookcase which housed several hundred books, movies and board games. Scanning them she saw so

He awoke with a gasp. Heart pounding in his ears, his eyes darted around the dark room. His breath came in short, rapid pants, his thoughts were fuzzy. Cold sweat beaded on his skin and soaked his tawny hair, making it stick to his forehead. The damp sheets twisted around his legs. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. There was his desk with a small, messy mountain of homework that need to be finished, his closet, and the familiar bare walls. A little light trickled in through gaps of the blackout curtains. With a groan, Leon untangled himself from the sheets and  dropped his head back onto his pillow. He twisted his neck to face the digital clock on the nightstand.

It was nearing midnight by now. The light snowfall made the night even darker, and the windshield wipers were the only thing making a sound, besides the slight rumble of the engine. Pulling into a driveway, an upper class man named Zachariah started the winding stretch that was his driveway to his mansion of a house. Trees lined the little dirt path up until the final stretch of the driveway, where it opened up into a large green field adorned with a Victorian Mansion located at the top of a small hill. Many nights Zachariah would sit atop the third floor balcony, gazing over his small fields and staring into the night sky.