Thursday, November 10, 2016

4:00 a.m. Madness by Joanne Olivieri

Startled, I awaken in an anxiety born stupor. It's 4:00 a.m. Sunday morning. In the distance a siren announces a 911 while a car alarm bellows out of control. Cars race an uncontrollable rage through empty streets. Light flickers through my window yet I know there is no light outside other than the moon displaying it's devilish grin. Is it a warning? I scare myself into blind paralysis. Staring into oblivion my body is frozen with fear. The incessant ticking of the clock - a breathing crescendo drowning my pulse. Paper rustling outside my door though the wind silent. Is it the house settling? A raccoon rummaging? Or, is it my mind damning my sensibilities?

Haunting memories invade speaking to me in tongues, unexplained. Nocturnal entities without form parade the darkness. I shrink under the covers yet the unheard and unseen more frightening than the perception of reality I cannot escape. A sudden scream wails from a neighboring house and my senses freeze. It becomes difficult to breathe and my body shivers. Fear surrounds me. I sit up in my bed afraid of what torture lies ahead within my mind, outside my door. The wooden gate within the yard slams shut. Still, there is no wind. My heart races. Each nerve a pulsating tendril. Embraced by fear all I can do is wait for the arrival of day.

The first commuter train barrels down the street and I know dawn is near. The distinct sound of a plane overhead reminds me of a friend half a world away and I smile. The restlessness of the night fades and I fall into an apprehensive slumber knowing there was something out there, but what?

Tired, I awaken from a dream of which I cannot recall. For some reason my ex weighs heavily on my mind though I don't know why. Maybe it's because I miss the perfect yellow rose I'd receive every Sunday morning. I walk across the room and open my door to the courtyard breathing in the crisp fragrant floral foliage. The sun shines with a positive arrogance leaving me optimistic of the day's journey. Stepping outside I find perched upon my doorstep, a withered yellow rose.

No comments:

Post a Comment