Literature
Only in the Dark
Only in the dark can I risk the climb; emerge from beneath a mighty glacier-carved overhang to sit atop the hillside. The moon is my enemy. It's treacherous light sits on my hair and skin and reveals all. The stars are it's allies, forming a speckled backdrop that betrays my presence as a vast void in the sky. But under cloud- I'm far enough away to avoid the reflected orange of the little lights below, and I can fade into the blackness, chin on folded arms and body sprawled across the ancient remains of fallen trees. My presence on these lonely nights keeps the hilltop clear and bare. An oddity perhaps, to the locals, that one side of the mountain never grew and always bore the marks of recent rockfalls. But a blessing. The danger kept them away. Only in the dark can I lay here, hard, cold stone beneath me, smoothed here and there by wear, and watch the lights below. I can't hear them here, the people. There's the soft roar of millions of small things doing small things, yes, but