Dusk

Flash fiction contest under 300 words. PROMPT: picture, tea, night.

The night scares me. It has, ever since I was a little girl.

The only memories I have of my childhood are tainted with fear and desperation. They all revolve around the night and trying desperately to convince my mother to protect me. I remember clinging to her legs, crying, and begging for her to keep it daytime. It didn’t take long for her to get tired of my “antics” and she would push or kick me away and tell me to “grow up and stop being such an annoying brat!”

Now, even as an adult, when dusk approaches, my heart races and I get a tightness in my chest that makes it difficult to breathe. I have learned to practice intentional breathing and try to focus on the inhale and exhale. Usually this helps loosen my chest a little. The breathing also helps with the hammering heart in my chest.

My usual routine is to make sure I’m home each day by no later than three in the afternoon. It’s at home where I can control my environment best. At three, I lock up, turn on all the lights and close my curtains and blinds so I can’t see the darkness claw its way into my apartment. To me, the night is alive, a hideous thing trying to get into my apartment. I make myself a cup of tea and sit cross legged on the floor of my living room in front of a large picture by Pissarro. It’s a print called Sunrise Over The Fields. It’s here where I wait until dawn, hoping to one day, grow up and not be such an annoying brat.