Thursday, October 29, 2015

Night Lights

Thursday, October 29, 2015

When I was five or younger, and okay, maybe until I was seven, I couldn't sleep without a night light. I guess my wild imagination had its advantages and disadvantages.

Sometimes I was able to fall asleep because of my imagination, especially when I had flower wallpaper in my room––it was a blank white decorated with floral pink, yellow, green, and subtle hints of blue. One of the stories, actually, was a result of fatigue and possible hallucination.

The floral print wallpaper stared at me. The flowers could talk to each other. Some were pink, yellow, purple, red . . . they were all different, but they always got along. A rare and most beautiful blue flower named Melly came along. The leader of the pink flowers, Sandra, was extremely jealous of Melly. When Melly started getting along with the other flowers, Sandra felt threatened. She accused Melly of stealing her gorgeous pink petals and painting them blue. She was a fraud. The other flowers gasped. Melly insisted she would not do such a thing, but because the blue flower was new and different, no one believed her. Sandra pushed Melly into a dark abyss of dirt and shame, falling, falling, and falling.

When she reached the bottom, Melly cried. All she wanted was to fit in. But then a radiant, glowing light shone. She discovered a beautiful treasure of gold, and out appeared other flowers, of all different colors–– blue, red, orange, yellow. They greeted her with a warm welcome. Melly smiled.

I guess stories were, occasionally, my night light. Unless my eyes lingered on the closet door that could've opened at any time with the Chucky Doll ready to stab me, or the window, where I imagined if I peeked at it the eyes of a child-eating demon would be gleaming at me with wide, greedy eyes.

Imagination is powerful, and how we use it is a choice––light or dark?

Then there's the time where I thought Santa Clause moved me to my parent's bed in the middle of the night. But, that's a story for the holidays (but the story didn't actually take place remotely near Christmas, believe it or not).

It's 4:26pm and hope you're enjoying the beginning of dusk, readers––again, if you're out there.

Alena


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