And He Was Gone - 4. Four

I dreamt that night though. Of light and of candles, the sun glowing brighter than time, rays trying to scratch out the shadows shivering beside the wax, but it didn’t die out, only darkened with each passing second. I was the sky, the soil, a cell within a droplet of the sea swinging underneath the burning flame.

I was here, there, nowhere, exposed, hungry, tired; searching.

Around the battle of the candle, the shadow and the sun, and above the sea was a convoluted tangle of rail tracks.

I was there, here, everywhere. I was a beetle, scrambling over the wooden planks, but I was too small to climb over the metal rail, and too scared to slip under the rocks, forced to keep on going before the train shot through and demolished everything in its path.

Beside me, there were more beetles, wings weak and unused, but I could not see them, nor hear them. I kept on scurrying, foot over foot, in synch with the ticking clock, depositing bits of my shell in the silence that meets the next click.

The shadows danced with me and the sun slammed into my back.

I woke up covered in sweat, tossed around for awhile, then fell asleep dreaming about the boy and his dark, slanted eyes.