A Matter of Mattering

A Matter of Mattering

I had doubts. When the nights came, the bedroom walls pulsing out like ripples growing further and further away from my bed, those doubts amplified to the beats of my hollow heart.

Echoes, I called them. The echoes of a misspent life had come a calling. They would never leave. No matter how hard I pressed the pillows to my head, those residual murmurs remained. Sweeping in across oceans of night, they haunted my island self. There was nowhere to hide. I didn’t deserve to.

Time: a relative concept, more so still to the timeless. I was timeless, a salient detail my demons knew. There would never be respite from my tormentors. Never!

When sunlight came sweeping through my curtains like filtered candy, I opened my eyes. Another night over. Another night done. Breathe, my mind said. Breathe, it repeated, as it was wont to do at each new dawn. Just breathe.

One hopes for evil to pass, prays for it even. One imagines those doubts dissipating like broken clouds to never regather. And, sometimes, when the darkness was dismissed for the daylight hours, I thought it possible. I’m me again, my brain promised. I’m me. That’s when the voices came.

’You don’t really matter,’ they said. ’See you tonight.’


50 Word Stories: One Shady Night

The shadow of a shade loomed in the moonlight smothering the cityscape it brushed against in ebon night. Born of darkness, it steeled itself for the light it so yearned for silently wailing through those hours before dawn. When the sun rose it obliterated the shade. It was happy then.

Hollows of the Heart

For those who struggle at Christmas.
 In the hollows of the heart do the dark thoughts hide swirling, unfurling in pooling shadows.
 Vortices of unease that seek to swamp and engulf, they pulse with evil seeking to consume your inner world.
 To banish them you need only light. So why is the switch so hard to find when you need it the most?
 It’s not. It sometimes just takes a little longer to flick.



Demons in the Cloud

Note: my friend Michelle Marie sent me this image of a dawn sky. On rotating it we saw THE FACES. I hope you can see them too. Look under the brightest part then over its right shoulder!

 From beyond
 Out of place
 Ancient EVIL
 Ephemeral cloud
 Their tomb
 Aerial imprisonment
 Needing to be free
 Angels restrain
 Chained in thunder
 But still
 They seek
 To loose upon us
 Rain down
 Before the sun
 Pray for it


 Shadows fall
 Across my path,
 Forcing me to choose
 To step over,
 To step right through.
 I will not be diverted
 By the ephemeral,
 I haven’t
 The time.
 Let the shadows fall;
 Let the silent roar;
 For cometh the night,
 I’ll still be walking
 Whilst they’ll
 Be gone.


Echoes of a silence I do not want

Reverberate through the nothingness of my soul,

Dark are the places they haunt,

Vacuous their meandering.

I feel queasy, nauseous, unsettled by them.

There is no respite 

Though I ask for none.

A choir of unease seeks requiem within,

Whilst I seek it without.

The night is the worst 

For that echoing silence seems to multiply further

Bouncing off internal cavities in multiplicity.

That’s when I turn on my pillow to an empty bed,

And know my echoes shall persist for all eternity.

(Image courtesy maronski on deviantart.com)