Like the Pin or know someone who would? Share a link or Tweet about us. Spread the Word. All the words.
Night blindness
We here at the Pin sometimes get a little stir-crazy—no, not stir-crazy. Impassioned. Stoked by fires of unknown origin. Jolted to life by bolts unexpected. And, really, who doesn't these days, right? So mischief we make—no, not mischief. Devilry. Rascalism? Certainly not diablerie. And the mischief we make is well made. So we prepared for some fun. Red leggings neath billowy, fringy tunics and floor length black ridding coats were put on. Then, with much leaping, we departed for the trees.
Silently we flew through the cold, dry autumn air. Sped along by the all-consuming urge to kill the most resilient of foes—banality. At last we saw a glowing midst the paper birches and we descended on the perimeter of the house. Waiting, watching, while our windburned faces reddened and our breathing stilled. The diffuse light from the frosted upstairs window blinked out. But we did not move. For such a long time we waited, until not even the house was awake. And we crept so stealthily. Some of us dropped from branches without a sound. Some of us stepping only on rocks and roots left no trace. We entered the house. Not through windows or doors. Through cunning! Even then we waited. We
|
admired the deft arrangement of the den furniture. We noted all the mirrors were broken because they did not display our reflections. We paused at the large, colourful aquarium by the window. We saw that one of the guppies was about to give up the ghost. We giggled (silently) at the small but growing drip in the crawlspace underneath the house. Satisfied that no one in the house was in but the deepest of dreams, we ascended. We were sure that at least one of the stairs would have squeaked if we had used them. Not all the rooms were the bedroom. It was the first door on the left. We pushed the door from its frame so little at a time that even Mr. Planck wouldn't have noticed. Yet we still waited, for the old cast iron bathtub to be cool. And after so much skulking, so much holding of breath, so much excitement held in, we did it! We took the sleepy dreamer's picture and put it on our website! And did they know? Did they find out? No, never! Why? because we were clever. Don't disturb the sleeper. No lights, no sounds, no flash photography. No, we took their picture in complete darkness, several times.
We fled tittering with delight. Bounding over rills and deer carcasses through the woods between properties, we encountered another house. And many more. We filled our rucksacks with photoplates that night! We even came across a transient sleeping in the back of a canopied truck. But the elation was devoured by a most horrific malady. Readers, donators to the Pin's Slippery Fund, if you want to sleep tonight, yes ever again, avert your eyes now! Cleanse them with borax. Erase your hard drive and then destroy it physically. The disorientation! The tumultuous upheaval our befuddled minds were subjected to!
While the night was young and our pleasure only increasing, we were all of us struck with: Night Blindness. So deep were we in the inky sea of night, our minds, confused, refused to see anything at all until the first rays touched the sky and day began to swallow the night alive. Darkness is exhilarating, but being struck with complete and total insensitivity to any wavelength while you are in the dark is terrifying—even for the stalwart hearts of the Slippery Pin. We wandered in limbo for hours, or weeks we don't know. Finally day did come. We found our red tights covered in grey mud. Each of us had a white chalk X on the back of our ridding coats. What happened? Great Mossy Oaks, What Happened?!
We fled tittering with delight. Bounding over rills and deer carcasses through the woods between properties, we encountered another house. And many more. We filled our rucksacks with photoplates that night! We even came across a transient sleeping in the back of a canopied truck. But the elation was devoured by a most horrific malady. Readers, donators to the Pin's Slippery Fund, if you want to sleep tonight, yes ever again, avert your eyes now! Cleanse them with borax. Erase your hard drive and then destroy it physically. The disorientation! The tumultuous upheaval our befuddled minds were subjected to!
While the night was young and our pleasure only increasing, we were all of us struck with: Night Blindness. So deep were we in the inky sea of night, our minds, confused, refused to see anything at all until the first rays touched the sky and day began to swallow the night alive. Darkness is exhilarating, but being struck with complete and total insensitivity to any wavelength while you are in the dark is terrifying—even for the stalwart hearts of the Slippery Pin. We wandered in limbo for hours, or weeks we don't know. Finally day did come. We found our red tights covered in grey mud. Each of us had a white chalk X on the back of our ridding coats. What happened? Great Mossy Oaks, What Happened?!
We will tell you one thing that happened that night: In your sleep, you called out a name. One not that of your lover. YOU. We heard you. Who did that name belong to? secrets
What is the Pin?
|
Who keeps it slippery?
|