Status: Updates are sporadic and may occur at whim, but I do try to add chapters regularly.
Silent Nights
Observations
“No,” I say, keeping my voice low but stern, “we are not going out there.” Sara doesn’t say a word, and she doesn’t move. After another few moments of squinting into the distance, I let my arm fall from in front of her. “We should go inside,” I insist. I lift my hand to prod her toward the house but she twists away and steps out of reach.
“I’ll be right in,” she says, trying again to walk past me. I grab for her arm this time and pull her around to face me.
“We’ll look in the morning,” I offer. She tries to tug her arm out of my grasp, but I hold on, forcing me to step closer. I stand up straighter, hoping to use the five inches of height I have on her to my advantage. “We’re not going out there in the dark.” She stares past me at the light.
“We don’t have to,” she fires back. She puts her free hand on my chest to push me away and I let go of her other arm. “You go back inside.” I swipe a hand over my face and wonder if I have any chance of changing her mind.
“I’m not just gonna leave you out here,” I call. She hisses at me to be quiet but continues through the grass undeterred. I pull my knife from the sheath on my belt and follow after her. We’re almost the corner of the yard where the road and driveway meet. “We can’t just go out there blind,” I argue one last time. She pulls up short, stopping so quick I almost run into her, and shushes me again.
“We’re fine,” she whispers. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t see my roll my eyes. So far I can’t hear or see anything to be worried about, but I’d still rather be doing this in the daylight. I’m just sizing up whether or not I could physically drag Sara back to the house when she turns her back on the road and looks up at me. “You really didn’t notice?”
“Noticed what?” I scan over what I can see of the road, wondering what the hell she’s talking about.
“They don’t move at night,” she says after several seconds tick by silently. I bring my attention back to her. In the dim light I can mostly just see the shape of her face. I scrutinize it.
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff. “I’ve seen them chasing-“
“Yeah,” she interrupts, “chasing.” She pauses like I’m supposed to divine some kind of meaning from that. “They’ll chase,” she finally continues, “If they hear something catches their attention.” I open my mouth, but she must anticipate my argument. “The newer ones do wander sometimes, but the older ones aren’t really active at night.” Her gaze shifts to the road again, but she continues quietly after a moment. “I don’t think they can see, or not well anyway. The older ones’ eyes are cloudy, like cataracts or something, and I think they only really see movement, at least during the day. At night it’s a whole different story.”
“So,” I begin slowly, still skeptical of this new information, “you’re saying they sleep?” She looks up at me briefly and shakes her head.
“No, not sleep, not exactly.” Her hand moves to the handle of her knife and she plays with it while she speaks. “It’s more like they’re dormant. They’re still aware I think, but it takes more to get their attention on you. Their senses don’t seem to be as strong as when they were alive. They won’t react unless there’s a loud noise or something runs into them. Most of the time you can walk right past and they won’t react.”
“Wow,” I mumble. I’ve never thought much about how those things behave, but now that Sara’s laid it all out I can’t find any memories to the contrary. I think back to all the nights I spent looking out for trouble and how there were never any serious incidents. At the time it worried me, and I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wondered at the extent of her knowledge on the subject, and then a new realization hit me.
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” Sara looks up at me then, but I can’t see her face clearly. After a few moments she turns away and crosses the final bit of grass.
“Just keep quiet and watch your step,” she whispers over her shoulder. With a final step across the drainage ditch Sara steps up onto the road and continues on without even looking to see if I follow or not.
“I’ll be right in,” she says, trying again to walk past me. I grab for her arm this time and pull her around to face me.
“We’ll look in the morning,” I offer. She tries to tug her arm out of my grasp, but I hold on, forcing me to step closer. I stand up straighter, hoping to use the five inches of height I have on her to my advantage. “We’re not going out there in the dark.” She stares past me at the light.
“We don’t have to,” she fires back. She puts her free hand on my chest to push me away and I let go of her other arm. “You go back inside.” I swipe a hand over my face and wonder if I have any chance of changing her mind.
“I’m not just gonna leave you out here,” I call. She hisses at me to be quiet but continues through the grass undeterred. I pull my knife from the sheath on my belt and follow after her. We’re almost the corner of the yard where the road and driveway meet. “We can’t just go out there blind,” I argue one last time. She pulls up short, stopping so quick I almost run into her, and shushes me again.
“We’re fine,” she whispers. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t see my roll my eyes. So far I can’t hear or see anything to be worried about, but I’d still rather be doing this in the daylight. I’m just sizing up whether or not I could physically drag Sara back to the house when she turns her back on the road and looks up at me. “You really didn’t notice?”
“Noticed what?” I scan over what I can see of the road, wondering what the hell she’s talking about.
“They don’t move at night,” she says after several seconds tick by silently. I bring my attention back to her. In the dim light I can mostly just see the shape of her face. I scrutinize it.
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff. “I’ve seen them chasing-“
“Yeah,” she interrupts, “chasing.” She pauses like I’m supposed to divine some kind of meaning from that. “They’ll chase,” she finally continues, “If they hear something catches their attention.” I open my mouth, but she must anticipate my argument. “The newer ones do wander sometimes, but the older ones aren’t really active at night.” Her gaze shifts to the road again, but she continues quietly after a moment. “I don’t think they can see, or not well anyway. The older ones’ eyes are cloudy, like cataracts or something, and I think they only really see movement, at least during the day. At night it’s a whole different story.”
“So,” I begin slowly, still skeptical of this new information, “you’re saying they sleep?” She looks up at me briefly and shakes her head.
“No, not sleep, not exactly.” Her hand moves to the handle of her knife and she plays with it while she speaks. “It’s more like they’re dormant. They’re still aware I think, but it takes more to get their attention on you. Their senses don’t seem to be as strong as when they were alive. They won’t react unless there’s a loud noise or something runs into them. Most of the time you can walk right past and they won’t react.”
“Wow,” I mumble. I’ve never thought much about how those things behave, but now that Sara’s laid it all out I can’t find any memories to the contrary. I think back to all the nights I spent looking out for trouble and how there were never any serious incidents. At the time it worried me, and I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wondered at the extent of her knowledge on the subject, and then a new realization hit me.
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” Sara looks up at me then, but I can’t see her face clearly. After a few moments she turns away and crosses the final bit of grass.
“Just keep quiet and watch your step,” she whispers over her shoulder. With a final step across the drainage ditch Sara steps up onto the road and continues on without even looking to see if I follow or not.