a lonely night

A drabble based on ‘a lonely night’ by the weeknd

• Mystery
• Short story
• Horror

								
Lingering streaks of a vibrant liquid maelstrom of velvet settled on the gravel, seeping around the jagged minuscule ground and shuddering with every bitter passing of the midnight breeze. The high blemished moon reflected as a weak wavering figure caught in the middle of the indescribable consequence of an impulsive reaction to muddled, smothered emotions. 

Emotions bubbling up just above the brick barricade of morality——broken beyond repair——and heating conscious.

A thin, delicate finger rose, quivering, pointing, mocking, insisting. A haunting whisper, barely audible in the stark silence of the shadowed alley, slipping past cracked and unused pale roses. Inside, an organ is filled to the brim with swimming resentment, vexation raising the abusing beating at a nearly impossible rate.  
	
A low, raspy timbre broke through the unspeakable tense air of muteness, only a pitiful rebellious thing. The chuckling pattern of the noise omitted signaled a beautiful idea: Relief, guilt wavered relief.

The stars gazed down with dreading disappointment dimming their heavenly light. Useless conflicted emotions—clashing against one another mercilessly—hung like a thick smog over the covered alley, the remnant of skeptical thoughts right before a firm, ending decision. It traveled around lazily, slipping like a costume over me as if I were naked and with every short-lived breath of mine, it rooted itself inside my gut.

Icy irises, frozen with chosen trauma and unusually glassy. A red haze filtered through and sharpened the pupil immensely, created by the dewy mist of murky velvet. A facade, so blank it seemed painted with rectangular edges and dainty shades, so terrifyingly unclear——until it broke.

Shattered by just a stretch in expression, changing the lines of my face so quick and faint it disappeared just as abruptly as it appeared. The bone-white limb lifted in the air and a hand rested over my lips. 

My foggy vision scanned over my surroundings for what seemed like eternity. As the flickering iridescent lamp shone down on me, a shadow whipped through the horribly lit darkness. My body jerked on instinct, yet I stayed frozen. Electricity raced to my limbs, paralysis seizing every means of movement I held. A choked gasp broke out of me.

My vision was severely altered by a perceptible haze of confusion and ruining any sense of control I grasped. I detected my consciousness begin to slip away through cracks of pain. 

For some reason, undeterred anger rose up to crush my neck and swell my tongue, all sense of comfort and peace shattered with the crumbling of any logical conclusion I could come up with. Heat raced from the deep boiling pit of my stomach and burned my throat, threatening to rip a choking yell from my lips. 

That’s when I realized with utter dread as I stared hauntingly into the golden filtered lamp in front of me, that my perspective was unusually placed. With that single comprehension, slamming into me next were the million more. 

My typical world now disintegrated to a vortex of gray, unclear delirium.     

Sharp gravel dug into my back and with one short glance, I shut my eyes. A warm, leaking liquid seeped down my side and into a messy puddle beside me.

I could feel the unwelcome hatred, the numbness, the plain misunderstanding all mingled into a single, faint flame within me--a single point that grew and continued to grow until it hit me with the force of a stinging, everlasting slap.

What I saw earlier was blood. My own.

“It’s the only time..”

If only I could scream, then the whole world would be alerted of my predicament.

“And if I led you on then I apologize.” The grinning tone, underlying a dirty craze, came from somewhere above and struck into me, fear tightening my muscles and racking my chest.  

The past flame rages into an unstoppable fire in my belly, surging forward, writhing around, until it almost feels like it is alive in me, separate and distinct from yet somehow a part of me. 

A lonely night. That’s what it is. That explained my anger and resentment. 

The chilling wind wrapped around my limp frame stuck to the ground and lifted me high, discarding with it the warmth I felt down below. I met the depressingly pitious gazes of the stars and the moon, whose arms stretched wide in a welcoming manner.

I refused.

I was murdered on a lonely night.

And it would end that way. 
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