A new Flash Fiction prompt, this one from Dora at dVerse Poets, a one of 144 word max prose (not including the title) and a one, in this case, to include the line “Out of the ninth-month midnight” from Walt Whitman’s poem “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking”.
The Eye and The Dark
It was time of festival, one last for the cycle, in preparation of another season of The Dark and death, things only living underground, ALL things, when the cycle’s end sweeps the surface clean with wind and freeze and The Eye turns away, but not of disdain they assure the children, and not of old frighting tales but of The Eye’s need to tend Eye otherwhere, other people’s maybe, in his vast dark but spark spotted sky.
“The Eye and those that have preceded have provided shelter for this season that comes Out of the Ninth-month midnight where me must to, after our grand revel day, and while away the cold and stark”
“But father, has no one ever ventured out during The Dark?”
“NEVER ask such questions son!”
The next, what only old time-keepers said was morning, the son could not be found.
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