A Life in the Night of Alex Mauldin

05 Oct

Here’s a little more Alex for those needing a fix…

Alex stood in the doorway, staring out at the moonlit lawn. He reached over to the caddy by the door, grabbing his keys, and slowly pulled the old wooden slab shut, wincing as the latch clicked. He stepped quietly onto the veranda, and breathed in a lung full of the moist night air. The air felt heavy, his chest heaving slowly with the warmth of it all.

The cool blue light of the moon spilled across the yard, washing the grass in its silvery splendor. The quiet sounds of the night drifted through the air, the soundtrack of the dark hours.

The street light on the corner buzzed as the electricity set the mercury vapor inside aglow.

The neighbor’s air conditioner droned heavily as it fought to keep its owners comfortable.

Somewhere, about three blocks away, a dog was announcing to its master that he had a shadow, and he didn’t like it.

There was something strangely peaceful about the night to Alex. He thought about how these simple, consistent noises were drowned out in the day by all the extra noise of sunlit life. He wondered if it had always been that way. He wondered what it must have been like before technology brought so much noise into our lives. He imagined a time before streetlights and condenser pumps, a time when the night was filled with the sounds of nature– sounds he probably couldn’t identify– sounds that terrify.

He shuddered.

Alex slid his hands into the pockets of his pajamas and stepped out into the front yard, pondering what made the night so scary.

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Posted by on October 5, 2008 in fiction, humour, writing


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