Joy in the Night
One time their was a young girl and her name was Joy and she was of pale skin and dark black hair; her room was draped with the simple efficiency of common-wealth and clean and mostly white with its pale blue hues from the vast moonlit night. The night breathed in terror as young Joy could not sleep and opened her sash to let in the cool damp breeze of the night. In her gown she lay in fright wondering why she felt so alone.
The shadows swayed to and fro as the wind let them rise and fall; the thin and white silk sheets adorned her room with motion caused from external influence. Joy was scared. “I will take in a deep breath and exhale,” she thought. “There cannot be a thing to be afraid of. It is just the night and calm. I will sleep soon and soundly.”
Joy was ten and in her gown and somewhat not even tired. She knew she was supposed to be asleep and dreaming soundly. She stretched and watched the silk blow in the wind for some time and decided to relax. What was there for her to be afraid of anyway? The breeze continued to blow and Joy almost thought she heard a whisper from the damp and subtle wind too. “I am going to for a walk,” thought Joy. “No one will see or hear me and I will make it back. There is nothing to be afraid of anyway.”
Joy climbed out of her window in her thin-loose nightgown and ran barefoot through her backyard leaving small prints in the dew on the lawn. She made it to the shadows out of the bright moonlight where the trees were to find one of many trails she knew of from the daytime. This was a known trail that led to two old benches in a small clearing. Joy walked calmly through the dark trail as she was able to see in the night and the huge trees stood tall and protective.
The young girl felt the beckoning call of the damp night weaken slightly as she neared the benches and chose one to sit on and gaze upon the clearing in the night. As her eyes adjusted once more and the breeze calmed in the quite night; Joy heard only the creaking of the trunks of the old trees that echoed in the wind too. The dark blacks and green-browns of the trees swayed and leaned as with a breeze came a certain form of being directly in front of Joy.
“That has got to be something with life,” thought Joy. She watched as it formed into both a being and something with life indeed. “Who are you?” asked Joy. “I am Wenston Glindenmire, proud owner and maintainer of the estate here behind the property of your father,” said Mr. Glindenmire. “What brings such an innocent young girl to such a horrid place during the most treacherous time of the night?”
“I could not sleep and I was scared; I felt a beckoning in the wind.”
“I see you found me here. Do you come here very often?”
“I duly hope you heed my pardon. I have been here during the day and one time during the late afternoon too.”
“I do not mind if you come here. You can.”
“Is it true that your father was a horse trainer who passed due to a rare and incurable sickness?”
“That is true and I now have a few horses too.”
“I came here thinking that I could clear my mind and return for slumber.”
“Are you leaving so soon?”
She was not. Joy stood and instinctively walked directly towards the landowner. He was a real man full of flesh and blood and curious as to the reasons for Joy’s actions. Joy herself did not know too much about what she needed or not and neared herself to the man. She gave him a small hug and as he patted her on the back Joy stretched her mouth open and bit Mr. Glindenmire’s bare neck and drank a small amount of his startled blood.
She let him go and ran to escape to the trail she knew of. Joy was in a hurry and she did not know if the man would be chasing after her or not. She ran quickly as he was probably deciding on the previous occurrences; Joy made it to the lawn. She ran back over her previous footsteps formed in the dew of the night to her opened window. Once inside she closed and locked her window and cleaned her feet. Joy went back to sleep and slept until the dawn of the new day and lived happily ever after.