Jumping off cliffs

and building my wings on the way down

Saturday, March 17, 2007

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at March 17, 2007

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Jumping off cliffs

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He could hear them, owl, rats, cats, foxes and woman, winged child breathing. All of them soulless husks. Yes. That was what he meant. Soulless. Sleep was an absence of soul, a light out in the attic and nobody home. He knew--death entered a little more with each dawn, just before the waking. Crept in so's nobody'd notice it, catch it and stop it. Not bold, death--but a weasel prowling. It took its time, but it came in all the same.

--Excerpt from Jack's House by M. Paddock