City Girl

Walking in the darkness through a bed of noisy fallen leaves six inches deep, I scan the forest and think of teeth, sharp and pointed Satan's anointed, a creature with eyes glowing red, I'm overwhelmed with fear and dread. I hear it breathing, a feral growl, I know it's watching me, somehow. I try to hurry, but not too fast and note my shadow by moonlight cast. In city life, the danger's human, out here it's unknown creatures looming. My shaky hands unlock the car, above the sky is filled with stars. I slide into the bucket seat, lock the doors, turn up the heat. Though now I take a breath that's deep, my stomach quakes and my heart leaps. My gaze falls on the placid lake, I ease my foot up off the brake, it's darkness in a liquid form, it's calm belies the coming storm. This rural life is new to me, it's silence and it's massive trees. The daylight wildlife's grand and thrilling, it's the nighttime creatures I find chilling. Here the darkness is so complete, unlike the dark of city streets, it seems to be a living thing, enfolding one in jet black wings. This place is ours in bright daylight, but out here, no one owns the night.