Creative Writing: Paned Night
Paned Nights
At quarter to two, the moon shone down with an ashen glow. Its sullen radiance provided the perfect ambience in front of his bedroom window. Lighting barely filtered through the layers of fog, another set of curtains that hung beyond paned glass. Expected footsteps pierced through thin walls, disrupting him from slumber and once again, forcing his attention across the street.
A young boy could be seen, the mop on his head bouncing loosely as he jerked himself through the barricade of snow. He entered ebony gates and cobblestone walls. His crimson coat served as a conspicuous target for Perry’s eyes. If not, his ghastly complexion emanated. Row on row, he passed by. His sturdy strides were a metronome, pulling Perry back to sleep. …show more content…
Clusters of dark-clothed bodies were present and condolences were being exchanged. A funeral was being held. Being a small community, Perry was obligated to pay his respect.
“Up to it,” he mumbled. He made an effort to be hefty, hoping it would compensate for the aged years. He only had to stay long enough for someone to notice his attendance.
“Who was it this time?” he asked no one in particular, just eager to escalate the process.
“You’re looking rather pale, Mr. Perry. You shouldn’t be here.”
Baffled by a response he hadn’t anticipated, he scoured the crowd for the offender. The pitch and tone suggested a child, but his only suspect was the remnants of a scurrying shadow.
Ten minutes till two, and the streets were a desolate moor. Where was the boy? He’d always been punctual in sequence. What was the reason for his absence? Fed up, Perry hobbled into the cemetery, following the exact course he’d watched the boy take countless of times. Row on row, he passed by. By the time he reached the headstone, frigid daggers were threatening to deem him lifeless.
Fresh flowers accented the grave and dishevelled dirt surrounded. Oddly, the monument didn’t look a day old. It read:
1944 - 2016
Perry Williams
The town bells chimed twice. It was two
At quarter to two, the moon shone down with an ashen glow. Its sullen radiance provided the perfect ambience in front of his bedroom window. Lighting barely filtered through the layers of fog, another set of curtains that hung beyond paned glass. Expected footsteps pierced through thin walls, disrupting him from slumber and once again, forcing his attention across the street.
A young boy could be seen, the mop on his head bouncing loosely as he jerked himself through the barricade of snow. He entered ebony gates and cobblestone walls. His crimson coat served as a conspicuous target for Perry’s eyes. If not, his ghastly complexion emanated. Row on row, he passed by. His sturdy strides were a metronome, pulling Perry back to sleep. …show more content…
Clusters of dark-clothed bodies were present and condolences were being exchanged. A funeral was being held. Being a small community, Perry was obligated to pay his respect.
“Up to it,” he mumbled. He made an effort to be hefty, hoping it would compensate for the aged years. He only had to stay long enough for someone to notice his attendance.
“Who was it this time?” he asked no one in particular, just eager to escalate the process.
“You’re looking rather pale, Mr. Perry. You shouldn’t be here.”
Baffled by a response he hadn’t anticipated, he scoured the crowd for the offender. The pitch and tone suggested a child, but his only suspect was the remnants of a scurrying shadow.
Ten minutes till two, and the streets were a desolate moor. Where was the boy? He’d always been punctual in sequence. What was the reason for his absence? Fed up, Perry hobbled into the cemetery, following the exact course he’d watched the boy take countless of times. Row on row, he passed by. By the time he reached the headstone, frigid daggers were threatening to deem him lifeless.
Fresh flowers accented the grave and dishevelled dirt surrounded. Oddly, the monument didn’t look a day old. It read:
1944 - 2016
Perry Williams
The town bells chimed twice. It was two