Restive Sleep
Shadows
Delilah descended the stairs after the last signs of twilight disappeared behind the mountains. Dark shadows extended off of the angles of the houses, giving everything an eerie feel. Even in her own house, the shadows that weren’t supposed to exist extended. She didn’t dare to turn on the lights and calm her nerves. The light would wake her parents. If there were any rules to sneaking out, the first one was to not create a situation in which you’d be caught. Delilah had perfected the art of leaving the house undetected years before; how many years before, she didn’t recall.
Once she reached the main floor, she dashed to the front door as quickly as she could. The shadows were starting to creep up on her. She’d never been one to hang out in the pitch black night. The unknown was just too frightening. She opened the door as quietly as she could, and shut it in the same manner before she started running. Light illuminated his house. It was the sole lantern in the dark. The only candle in the window. The light was a safe haven where the darkness wouldn’t get to her. She needed to get to his house. She needed to be in the light. She needed to be with him. He would chase the darkness away.
Light from the windows spilled over the porch, but it wasn’t enough to drive the darkness away. She could feel it closing in on her. She grasped the knob and turned it, the door opening with ease. She wove into the house, shutting the door behind her with a loud thump. She rested on the door and caught her breath.
“Rhunws,” she called, pushing off of the door.
“In here.” His voice came from the living room. Delilah found the architecture of his house a bit odd. It was like someone had combined the styles of homes from the early 1800s with that of a modern house. The ceilings were high and the doorways arched; yet, when she expected there to be wallpaper and woodwork, there wasn’t. The furniture in the rooms was angular and sleek. There was something different about the house this time, like the walls had been painted a different color or something.
She found him sitting on the couch reading a book. He turned over the book and set it down on the coffee table when she entered the room. “How was your day?” she asked, moving farther into the room. Even though she knew she said it, she didn’t hear herself say it. It was a question that moved through the air by its own accord. He replied and their conversations flowed as usual. They talked for hours, but about what, she didn’t know. She knew they talked, but it was like her memory passed over all of the words, and only remembered the actions. She didn’t care much for the memory of him moving, when she sat down, and when they moved into the kitchen. She wanted to know what happened in between. She wanted to know what was said. She knew it all happened, but she couldn’t recall anything specific. Time didn’t exist between them. She couldn’t remember the day he moved in next door, nor could she remember meeting him. She only remembered knowing him. They had always been together. Delilah didn’t know why or how it happened, it just did. It was like he’d always been there.
They were sitting in his room when the sun began to rise. Light bounced off of his golden hair, which had been dark a few hours before. She’d noticed the change, but didn’t think much of it. He was always changing. The only two things that always stayed the same were his eyes and his voice. His eyes were always the color of sky right after sunset, the dark blue that comes before the black of night. He spoke with a faint Welsh accent, his words rising and falling in a sing-song manner. It didn’t matter what he looked like, because she always knew it was him.
Delilah glanced out the window, over at her house where her parents were still asleep. She sighed and turned toward him. “I have to go soon.”
“I know.” He looked out the window in the direction of the rising sun, then back at her. “Do you think you’ll be okay by your—“ His voice faded out in the middle of his sentence.
“What?”
There was no answer because she was back in her own room.
Once she reached the main floor, she dashed to the front door as quickly as she could. The shadows were starting to creep up on her. She’d never been one to hang out in the pitch black night. The unknown was just too frightening. She opened the door as quietly as she could, and shut it in the same manner before she started running. Light illuminated his house. It was the sole lantern in the dark. The only candle in the window. The light was a safe haven where the darkness wouldn’t get to her. She needed to get to his house. She needed to be in the light. She needed to be with him. He would chase the darkness away.
Light from the windows spilled over the porch, but it wasn’t enough to drive the darkness away. She could feel it closing in on her. She grasped the knob and turned it, the door opening with ease. She wove into the house, shutting the door behind her with a loud thump. She rested on the door and caught her breath.
“Rhunws,” she called, pushing off of the door.
“In here.” His voice came from the living room. Delilah found the architecture of his house a bit odd. It was like someone had combined the styles of homes from the early 1800s with that of a modern house. The ceilings were high and the doorways arched; yet, when she expected there to be wallpaper and woodwork, there wasn’t. The furniture in the rooms was angular and sleek. There was something different about the house this time, like the walls had been painted a different color or something.
She found him sitting on the couch reading a book. He turned over the book and set it down on the coffee table when she entered the room. “How was your day?” she asked, moving farther into the room. Even though she knew she said it, she didn’t hear herself say it. It was a question that moved through the air by its own accord. He replied and their conversations flowed as usual. They talked for hours, but about what, she didn’t know. She knew they talked, but it was like her memory passed over all of the words, and only remembered the actions. She didn’t care much for the memory of him moving, when she sat down, and when they moved into the kitchen. She wanted to know what happened in between. She wanted to know what was said. She knew it all happened, but she couldn’t recall anything specific. Time didn’t exist between them. She couldn’t remember the day he moved in next door, nor could she remember meeting him. She only remembered knowing him. They had always been together. Delilah didn’t know why or how it happened, it just did. It was like he’d always been there.
They were sitting in his room when the sun began to rise. Light bounced off of his golden hair, which had been dark a few hours before. She’d noticed the change, but didn’t think much of it. He was always changing. The only two things that always stayed the same were his eyes and his voice. His eyes were always the color of sky right after sunset, the dark blue that comes before the black of night. He spoke with a faint Welsh accent, his words rising and falling in a sing-song manner. It didn’t matter what he looked like, because she always knew it was him.
Delilah glanced out the window, over at her house where her parents were still asleep. She sighed and turned toward him. “I have to go soon.”
“I know.” He looked out the window in the direction of the rising sun, then back at her. “Do you think you’ll be okay by your—“ His voice faded out in the middle of his sentence.
“What?”
There was no answer because she was back in her own room.
♠ ♠ ♠
I've been wanting to write Rhun and Delilah's story since I was 13, but I haven't been able to figure out how to exactly go about it until now.Comments? Concerns?