Insomnia Drabbles
Oct. 3rd, 2006 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
garnigalWhat do you get up to when you can't sleep? (cross-posted to oos)
Voyeurism
Buffy’s not a voyeur.
Every night she makes her way home past darkened houses. She walks past manicured yards, past riotous flower gardens, past frilly kitchen curtains and past tricycles left on the sidewalks.
She doesn’t stop for them. They please her – normal life always does – but she doesn’t stop to examine them.
Every night she stops at the house with the lights on. She stands in the shadows and watches the old man putter in his kitchen, watch TV, read the paper. She wonders what is keeping him up at night.
She has a sacred calling. What’s his excuse?
Old Friend
She paces empty streets, darting from streetlight to streetlight, hugging the shadows. Night is an old friend now. She remembers fighting against bedtime, arguing for just another few minutes, though she struggled to keep her eyes open. Night, the dark; they were enemies back then.
Now night is safety. She stands sentry over silent streets and any she finds are enemies. She fights – she slays. There is no grey in the night, only the black and white of Slayer and vampire. She doesn’t struggle with indecision or sorrow or pain in the night.
Yes, night is an old friend now.
Voyeurism
Buffy’s not a voyeur.
Every night she makes her way home past darkened houses. She walks past manicured yards, past riotous flower gardens, past frilly kitchen curtains and past tricycles left on the sidewalks.
She doesn’t stop for them. They please her – normal life always does – but she doesn’t stop to examine them.
Every night she stops at the house with the lights on. She stands in the shadows and watches the old man putter in his kitchen, watch TV, read the paper. She wonders what is keeping him up at night.
She has a sacred calling. What’s his excuse?
Old Friend
She paces empty streets, darting from streetlight to streetlight, hugging the shadows. Night is an old friend now. She remembers fighting against bedtime, arguing for just another few minutes, though she struggled to keep her eyes open. Night, the dark; they were enemies back then.
Now night is safety. She stands sentry over silent streets and any she finds are enemies. She fights – she slays. There is no grey in the night, only the black and white of Slayer and vampire. She doesn’t struggle with indecision or sorrow or pain in the night.
Yes, night is an old friend now.
