12:07A.M and the night seems to whisper a soft lullaby to drift her into an unwanted sleep. She traces the scene of the room in which she sits chilled by the cool air that seems also to soothe her to comfort. An unwanted ache lingers in her back as she types nothing on the computer, peering into the face of the blank screen searching for words to express. The keys echoing into the empty place as she sites alone in disturbing silence. The kitchen light is dim, her eyes squint and blur from the lack of lighting and harsh rays of the computer. Reason would say for her to turn on a better light, but laziness calms her to deal with the unsatisfying glare drifting into the living room. She sits on her stool wrapt in a blanket that barely warms her tiredly glancing at the mess of a counter she leans upon: books, papers, bottles of water, and toys from the earlier portion of the evening stain the surface. “ In the morning” She murmurs through tired lips and crackling joints. Unable to ignore the nights whispers, she folds the lid to her lap top to hear the snap of completion, the only task of the day she completed successfully yet the unwritten paper snugged deep within the fragments of mind still awoke in the computer would tell other wise. She stands to the sounds of her bones rattling… or is it the empty growls of hunger nestled within her stomach, all sounds the same to her absent mind. The carpet warms her chilled toes as she sinks them into the loving fur, each step away from the seat she made her home for the last hours of timeless night calls her to finish her paper… “ In the morning” she murmurs.

The glare of brown from the sofa is taunted with pink from her garment she refuses to recover and place back inside her room. She stars at it, then to the long walk to the stairs next to the entrance of her home. She peers once more at the garment, seems so comfortable in its spot nestled within the creases of the sofa. “In the morning” she murmurs. She walks a few steps to the second of the two bookshelves along the wall of the living room and attempts to slide a book from her hand onto the empty spot calling for the book. Her imagination would tell her that her hand is moving… but reality exclaims that she is only dreaming… she retreats to lay it down on the lazy boy glowing brown under the dim light. “In the morning” she murmurs. She walks over into the kitchen leaving the warmth of carpet to stand on the hard tile of the kitchen. The mess stars at her like an unfinished job wanted to be completed… she stands wanting to escape her exhaustion and leans over to remove an empty bottle from the cluttered counter, yet before her hand reaches the loose top of the bottle… she retires her arm to her side. “In the morning” she murmurs.

Along the way to the light switch she catches the sight of unwashed dishes in the sink and reaches over them to pause at the switch… Nothing would make her feel more accomplished than to wash the lingered few dishes she neglected… “In the morning” she murmurs as she flicks the switch to the off position. Through the large window above the toy box laying cosily against the first of the two bookshelves of the living room wall, she hears the night ending it’s song and whispers to her one more soothing “goodnight”. The sound brings to her lined and tired face a smile and all cares drift away… When will she think of them again she wonders… “In the morning” she murmurs.

-By Taubah Blackman-

The sky called me from my sleep, and when I woke the sparkling stars blinded my eyes. It was our last night in Paris, though the trip was far from over, and the night was filled with the excitement everyone had about being there expt me. I mean of course I had a nice time, but I didn’t feel as if I was away from home, especially not Paris. I crept across the floor, the cracking wood seemed to rattle the tiny room, as I tried not to awaken my roommate. I was attempting to to close the patio doors to stop the wind from crashing against me while I slept. The thin whit curtains flew in and out of the door guiding me to look at the night. I follow with a feeling of curiosity I hadn’t felt there before, which made me want to look even more.

I reached the patio and stepped onto the cold surface, I was amazed at the site, though I saw it many times before. My eyes saw a different place,yet I remember being out on that patio plenty of times and feeling nothing. I leaned against the rail, starring at the park across the street from where I was. The people seemed so peaceful, and so much in love with one another, something you don’t see everyday. The heat from the long light poles that traced the sides of the park warmed me as I watched the moon dance off the beautiful lake. Something about that night made me see Paris as so many of the others did, and I hadn’t thought twice about.

I almost slept right there on that patio leaning so freely against the rail, as the wind song me to a soothing place inside my mind that not even a dream could have taken me to. But, the twinkling stars wouldn’t let me sleep. Their loud sounds of silence kept me wishing upon them, wishing for that moment to never leave me. Never again did I feel that way while in France, or anywhere else. I’m only left with the memory of that night I had, in my fairy tale called Paris.