Tag Archives: Night

When Darkness Falls – the Midnight Hour

What is your favourite time of the day?
Is it dawn with the light of a new day,
or the gloaming twilight and the indigo blanket
that sweeps across the sky bringing night?

When Darkness Falls - The Midnight Hour - The Last Krystallos
I love the night, the dark, the stars, and the romance of the cloak that night draws over us as dusk trails into starlight. I’ve always loved the dark, the late autumn evenings moving into the dark, cosy nights of winter have always brought me comfort. Maybe it’s because I like to hide away, maybe because I’m a night owl, maybe it’s just because I’m a stargazer and a dreamer…

Loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night - Sarah Williams - The Last Krystallos

© Lisa Shambrook

Just as some love the break of dawn and a new day, I love the closing of the day, its end and a time to snuggle down and sleep.

I wonder if the time of day we like the most says something about us? Perhaps those who love the sunrise and a new morning are more positive and forward thinking. Maybe those who love midday love the hustle and bustle of a lively world and enjoy being in the present. Maybe those of us who adore the quiet, solitary hours in the middle of the night are perhaps reminiscent, not negative, but maybe we dwell a little too long on the past? There might be nothing in my pseudo-psychology, but I know I might enjoy the night a little more as a dreamer.

Memory - Midnight - The Last Krystallos

© Lisa Shambrook

I was recently listening to Memory the song from the musical Cats and it never fails to make me cry. My throat tightens and my eyes are wet every time the words fill my soul. I remember the song from my childhood, one of those classics that stay with you forever, like On My Own from Les Miserables. Memory is so evocative, so real, so heartfelt, and so lonely, and I relate with every fibre of my being. I have spent too many nights standing beneath the moon in the early hours…

On My Own - Midnight - The Last Krystallos

© Lisa Shambrook

But, the night brings so much more than just memories…

It brings stars, searching out Orion as a child with my dad, teaching my children about the constellations, watching the Perseids meteor showers, and gazing at the ISS – International Space Station as it moves overhead like a single-minded shooting star.

It brings safety, home, and nights cuddled up with my family.

It brings solace after a tough day.

It brings late nights out and excitement at being out when others have gone to bed.

It brings rest, sleep, and relief, and dreams.

It brings love.

It brings silence, and introspection, imagination, and inspiration. I get some of my best ideas, clarity, and moments of sheer genius late, late at night. The early, early hours are when plot holes fix themselves, characters decide what they want to do, and endings of novels are resolved.

Stargazer Lisa The Last Krystallos

© Lisa Shambrook

I love the night, the stars, its encompassing darkness, and the velvet night sky.

What is your favourite time of the day, and why do you love it?  

At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. Edgar Allen Poe - The Last Krystallos

© Lisa Shambrook

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TLT Throwback – Alone

TLT 15 Alone

My fingers thread through strings of cosmic fairy lights,

drawing acres of studded satin across the glitter globe.

And beneath the stillness of infinity, I bring night’s dance…

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Joining in Grace Black’s TLT Throwback – Fifteen, as I just couldn’t resist this photograph.

Prompt: Alone. 3 lines, 10 words max per line…

Blues Buster: Stars (Waiting on a Dream)

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Girl Watching City at Night Free Download Wallpaper at chaoswallpapers.com

 Stars (Waiting on a Dream)

From his perch atop the city, it seemed he could see the entire world.

Below, electricity wreathed the ground in a geometric web of light, winking and flickering in the frigid cold, like a supercharged network created by a techno Jack Frost. Twinkling gold lit up the entire spread of community; interspersed with blinks of red and green ruling the roads, and swathes of neon crawling throughout downtown.

The docks rose in the distance, towering cranes, great shadows on the horizon and the harbour lights danced on black water. The river snaked like a python, like a dark chasm amid the lights and city sprawl, and moved silently through the urban spread until it flicked its tail and faded into the glow on the horizon.

He stared intently at the mathematical placement of roads, intersections and buildings, at the strings of lights that threaded the cityscape, before casting his eyes heavenward and releasing a sigh.

Stars glittered and the moon hung in the indigo sky like a silver marble.

He laughed inwardly, his lip beneath his whiskers curling lightly. He shivered and blew into his cold, weathered hands as the dark sky and dotted galaxies sneaked through his coat. He turned his attention again to the metropolis at his feet.

As he drank in the view, he shifted his weight on the park bench and pulled his camel skin coat close. The city had been his for a while, just a while, just enough to make a name for himself, but there was more to life than fame, and more to this city than cold, twinkling lights. There were better things than your name in lights, better things than hard, gold statuettes, better things than this.

He had no regrets, but she’d been gone for a while, and he missed her.

He liked hearing his name on the lips of others, but no voice beat hers. He adored the cheering of the fans, but her smile was worth more. Oscars shone on his mantelpiece, but no accolade was as soft and satisfying as her sweet kiss.

“I’m coming home, sweetheart…” The words barely left his lips, but they whispered in the raw night air and warmed him.

For a few moments his rheumy eyes wandered the city, remembering, and finally came to rest on the small patch of grass before him. He recalled the young girl kneeling there, staring down across the city in wonder, before leaning over to kiss him. He closed his eyes to capture the moment.

The night wind blew across the city, and up the hillside, chilling his bones and messing his unruly white hair, and he smiled. “I’m coming home…”

Snow began to fall. Soft, thick snowflakes slipped from the sky and grey clouds gently moved across the hillside. The morning would come and the city would slumber beneath a blanket of white, and a lone runner, atop the hill, would alert the authorities to the snow-covered mound on the bench. Blue lights would ride up the hillside, despite the snow, and headlines would be made, but it wouldn’t matter to him, because he’d risen far above the cityscape, far above the snow – and had returned home to the stars and to her soft, sweet kiss.

(541 Words)

My entry into Jeff’s Blues Buster over at The Tsuruoka Files. The prompt song is Lee Ranaldo’s ‘Waiting on a Dream’ and my interpretation took a while coming, but I got there!

55 Words: A Twilight Crescendo

Her incantation spiralled into night’s sapphire sky on the wings of ravens and dark spirits. 
She‘d already buried the blazing sun and now the moon shivered behind swirling mists. 
Her utterance rose with haunting clarity and the moon shrank, dwindling, until nothing but shade existed, and her nightmare song summoned and freed dusk’s malevolent doors…
(55 Words)

Blues Buster: A Rainy Night in Soho

Another Blues Buster from The Tsuruoka Files, the prompt song is A Rainy Night in Soho by The Pogues and several lines from this song inspired me: ‘I’ve been loving you a long time, down all the years, down all the days, and I’ve cried for all your troubles, smiled at your funny little ways…’ and ‘Now the song is nearly over, we may never find out what it means, still there’s a light I hold before me, you’re the measure of my dreams…’

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)

A Rainy Night in Soho

He glanced at her, his pale blue eyes tearing up as he gazed at her long hair, glowing silver in the moonlight upon the pillow. She stirred and a smile played on his lips. He wanted to reach across and move a stray lock away from her face, but didn’t want to risk waking her at such an early hour. A sigh swelled in his throat and he released it gently, shivering as his breath departed in a long wisp of smoke.
The cold penetrated his bones, even under the thick duvet, and he pulled the cover up tucking it round his shoulders. He carefully manoeuvred his body, again cautious not to disturb his lady, and settled on his side, his head gently relaxing into his flat and stained pillow. He drifted off to sleep with the beating rain drumming in his head.

She danced in his slumber, invaded his dreams with her youthful grace and honest beauty. He whirled her in his arms, up and down the rainy, glittering streets beneath the brutal neon lights and dirty windows.
Her crimson lips and tight dress won hearts and minds, and caused desire to rise through the steamy rain. He whirled her in his arms, letting her dance, and he fought her battles and defeated the dragons disguised as paramours.  He allowed her essence to soak him and he fell in love.

He awoke again, still in the depths of night. He tried to dilute the urge, but failed, and he pushed back the duvet and stepped out onto cold, hard linoleum. He hurried across the floor and down the corridor, the cold air prickling like a million tiny daggers of ice and he clicked the bathroom door closed.
Sweet relief and he moved as swiftly as he could back to bed. Sliding down beneath the covers he wriggled his toes to recirculate his chilled blood. He shivered violently as the temperature slowly rose and he gripped the duvet tight around his chin. He stared at the window, still partially lit by the roaming moon and smiled as familiar neon blue flickered in the bottom corner, from the sign on the building opposite. He sank into the mattress, feeling his body reacquaint to its accustomed hollow. His eyes gradually closed and his dream resumed.

She still danced, but this time she waltzed just out of reach, her long, black hair glinting against the stormy night, her lips smiling and teasing. He relaxed to watch and adore his queen as she stole the hearts and yearning of every man she saw. He had nothing to worry, for she returned to his embrace every night, creeping back into his arms and soul in the early hours to slake their desire.

The moon was vanquished when he woke, and salmon pink streaked through the early clouds peering in through the icy window. Frost had etched and encrusted the pane while they’d slept, and dawn’s colours danced, filtering through the oblique design.
A tired sigh escaped his mouth and he chuckled at the smoke eddying through the crisp morning air, as he turned to regard his love.
She remained asleep, her raven hair, now silver and white in dawn’s gaze, and he carefully propped his old body up on his elbow. Ravaging cold bit through his greying vest and goose-bumps exploded across his wrinkled skin, and his rheumy eyes blinked with unshed tears.
He caressed her shrunken cheek, and moved the stray lock of hair. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed her dry, cracked lips.
Grief tore through his ancient body, and he shuddered, and swirling breath danced across her peace, as his tears dropped onto her tranquil face.
Her song was done, not a note escaped her silent lips, but he gently moved from his depression in the mattress and cupped his body to hers. There he lingered, holding his love, his tears wetting the pillow and her silver hair, and in his dreams she danced…

(662 Words)
@LastKrystallos

Poem Walk: Mysterious Rhapsody

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)
Mysterious Rhapsody
Eyes flash green. Eventide drifts. The sun slips away to its bed. She stretches. Waits for dusk’s shroud to fall. Silver rays dance across her back. An elusive silhouette flirting beneath the moonlight.
Querulous squalls spit. Fear chills. Malevolent whispers murmur. She launches. Through the darkness. To lose the sudden repine. To escape the revenant incubus that breathes throughout the woods. 
Shadows loom. Menace exhales. Shivers ripple across her form. She dashes. La Luna beholds the black bullet. Chasing its rays. She escapes the gloom. An inquisitive curiosity cured.
Motionless trees.  Soft padding feet. Wood smoke fragrance filling the air. She hisses. Suddenly alert with feline beauty. Moonlight’s rays smouldering in lustful earnest. Grace dancing with every step.
Dewy fields.  River of jewels. Cast down beneath night’s glancing moon. She hurries. Through diamonds. Soft paws fly rhythmically. Writing twilight’s rhapsody. Scribing a masterpiece through the night. 
Iridescent. Wild chase done. She stands yet midnight’s carved statue. She stretches. Arches and yawns. She wanes. A wraith evanesce. An illusion. Silently moves to fade into indigo black.
(175 Words)

My entry into Bullishink and Dusty Journal’s Poem Walk contest.
I struggled more with this than I do for flash fiction. This is somewhere between prose and more formal poetry, and I love it, but found it harder to fight the metering which I use with poetry!

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Blogflash: Day Twenty-One: Night

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)

Day Twenty-One: Night
Flood Part Seventeen

“Hope runs eternal…”
“‘Springs eternal’ dear. Alexander Pope.”
“Who? Don’t sigh…”
“‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast; man never is, but always…blest. The soul, uneasy, and confined from home, rests and…’ can’t remember the word… ‘in a life to come.’”
“By who?”
“Alexander Pope, an eighteenth century poet. You’re right, hope springs eternal…if the water’s going down we have hope, at last!”
“Come here sweetheart, snuggle closer…”
“Oooh, hope is definitely springing eternal!”
“Give us a kiss!”
Indigo night enveloped the little boat bobbing and drifting on the water and unabashed moonlight streamed in, uninvited, through the tiny porthole.

(100 Words)

Five Sentence Fiction: Night

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)

The streets were bare, not even a fearless cat stalked the highway of fences and walls that stretched across town. Nobody peered through windows but instead hid behind a heavy curtain or beneath a duvet’s shroud.
The moon struggled to shine through the dense cloud and even candles fought to stay alight in the damp, cold gloom.
Night had fallen, days ago, her velvet indigo stretching her blanket across the world and the talk, the wonder, the fascination with the unusual was now gone replaced by quiet fear.
Night’s talons now pinned the earth in its place and she had no intentions of letting go…