I keep a match for the rooms that refuse morning, not to save them, just to see what has learned my name.
The floorboards answer softly. The window holds its black breath. Somewhere in the wall, a little tooth of winter keeps chewing.
I have made peace with the small hauntings: the cup turned wrong, the stair that sighs, the shadow that waits politely until I look away.
But tonight the house is too still, as if even the dust has stopped listening.
So I light the match.
For one bright second, everything hiding in the dark remembers it has a face.
--
Belladusk
"Friend to Crows and Strange Things"
Belladusk
"Friend to Crows and Strange Things"