The Author of a Long Night

The cursor blinked from an empty screen, the only light in a night-draped house. Walls slept; world slept; he, for a moment, slept. She looked over at his backlit-shadowed features; they frowned.

She sighed and could not frown. Or smile. Expressions felt as elusive as the absent story arcs on her page.

I must write something, she thought.

Blink, answered the screen.



Then; through morning oatmeal mind mush, an idea came. Her fingers poised to type…

He groaned. Sat up. Named her.

She turned to his care.

The cursor sighed, yawned, and went to sleep without her.

Dedicated to Charli, for this week’s prompt at Carrot Ranch.

April 25, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes exhaustion. Who is exhausted and why? Can you make art of exhaustion? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by April 30, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read and be social. You may leave a link, pingback or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

15 thoughts on “The Author of a Long Night

  1. Very nice Chelsea. Your computer like an emotionless friend, no interaction, just stares relentlessly at you while you try to sort out your thoughts…..or is the computer your best friend, keeping you company,waiting patiently while you try to sort out your thoughts and say something meaningful.

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  2. That’s often the way of it, Chelsea. The thoughts don’t come until there’s no way of capturing them. I’m pleased you captured these ones though. I particularly like this metaphor: a night-draped house. What lovely imagery.

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