I ran across this the other day – an old story fragment I had written long ago.<\/p>\n
The night was dark and still, but they could still see the figures dancing.\u00a0 Like shadows, they seemed to melt into the very darkness that created them.\u00a0 Yet still there was no sound, and that perhaps was the most disturbing fact of all.\u00a0 The light of the fire seemed only to annoy them, as they danced around the borders of the light.\u00a0 The flickering light seemed to dance along with the shadows themselves, engaging in a terrifying display of the power and terror of the forest.<\/p>\n
Still, they kept the fire burning, and as long as there was light, the shadows seemed to stay at bay.\u00a0 So all through the night, at least one person was awake to feed the fire, and ensure the safety of the others.\u00a0 But there was little that could have been done, if the shadows had chosen to attack.\u00a0 They called with their silent voices, taunting and teasing.\u00a0 They made no sound, but it was impossible not to hear them.\u00a0 Even their vague, dark shapes spoke to you, holding your attention until the last moment, when you realized that the fire had almost burned out, and the shadows were almost upon you.\u00a0 But always they released you, only to taunt you again when the fire grew bright.<\/p>\n
Those who slept were no better off than those who were awake.\u00a0 They stirred frequently in their sleep, and sometimes moaned as if they had seen horrors untold.\u00a0 In their restless dreams, the shadows had no fire to fear, and they danced and called without fear.\u00a0 Sleep brought no rest.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, the silence of the night was shattered by an ear-piercing wail.\u00a0 All were awake instantly, some in a state of confusion, others in a state of fear and panic.\u00a0 But all states of emotion were driven away by the second wail, louder than the first, bellowing into the night and echoing off the trees and the infinite shadows.\u00a0 The sound spoke of death, of pain, of terror, of hopelessness, of futility, of fear, and of hate, all at the same time.\u00a0 The very sound of it seemed to beat at your eardrums, confusing you as if you had been struck in the head.\u00a0 The sound continued until it became almost unbearable to hear, and then it stopped as suddenly as it began, and the forest was silent again.<\/p>\n
The silence was almost as bad as the wail, for a short time.\u00a0 No one was able to move or make so much as a whisper to break the terrifying silence.\u00a0 But there was no need to.\u00a0 So slowly and softly that it was almost unnoticeable, the normal sounds of the forest resumed.\u00a0 The crickets began to chirp again, the tree frogs began to sing again, and finally, birds could be heard singing praise to the light which was forming in the east.\u00a0 Dawn had finally come.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I ran across this the other day – an old story fragment I had written long ago. The night was dark and still, but they could still see the figures dancing.\u00a0 Like shadows, they seemed to melt into the very darkness that created them.\u00a0 Yet still there was no sound, and that perhaps was the… Continue reading The Night was Dark and Still<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"webmentions_disabled_pings":false,"webmentions_disabled":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[3],"tags":[104],"class_list":["post-1234","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-personal","tag-stories","entry"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pimUj-jU","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":3956,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2012\/07\/14\/the-alley\/","url_meta":{"origin":1234,"position":0},"title":"The Alley","author":"Keith Survell","date":"July 14, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"She stood, gasping, in the middle of a pile of bloody corpses. Dead. They were all dead, and she had killed them. Her sword slipped slowly from her sweaty & trembling hands. Her chest heaved as she fought to control her breathing. She'd killed them. They'd certainly meant to kill\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Stories"","block_context":{"text":"Stories","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/personal\/stories-personal\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":3920,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2012\/07\/04\/that-special-kind-of-dark\/","url_meta":{"origin":1234,"position":1},"title":"That Special Kind of Dark","author":"Keith Survell","date":"July 4, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"A strange little story which popped into my head one day while thinking about walking in the woods at night.","rel":"","context":"In "Stories"","block_context":{"text":"Stories","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/personal\/stories-personal\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":5440,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2020\/02\/01\/so-i-bought-a-5-flash\/","url_meta":{"origin":1234,"position":2},"title":"So I bought a $5 flash","author":"Keith Survell","date":"February 1, 2020","format":false,"excerpt":"My experience with buying an old external flash (speedlight) meant for Pentax film cameras and mounting it on my digital Lumix GX7.","rel":"","context":"In "Photography"","block_context":{"text":"Photography","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/pictures\/photography-pictures\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Sunpak MZ440AF-PT on a Panasonic Lumix GX7","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-content\/uploads\/\/2020\/02\/Photo-Feb-01-2-04-51-PM-scaled.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-content\/uploads\/\/2020\/02\/Photo-Feb-01-2-04-51-PM-scaled.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-content\/uploads\/\/2020\/02\/Photo-Feb-01-2-04-51-PM-scaled.jpg?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-content\/uploads\/\/2020\/02\/Photo-Feb-01-2-04-51-PM-scaled.jpg?resize=700%2C400&ssl=1 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-content\/uploads\/\/2020\/02\/Photo-Feb-01-2-04-51-PM-scaled.jpg?resize=1050%2C600&ssl=1 3x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-content\/uploads\/\/2020\/02\/Photo-Feb-01-2-04-51-PM-scaled.jpg?resize=1400%2C800&ssl=1 4x"},"classes":[]},{"id":642,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2004\/06\/18\/thoughts-from-the-valley\/","url_meta":{"origin":1234,"position":3},"title":"Thoughts from the Valley","author":"Keith Survell","date":"June 18, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"Thoughts from the Valley: A Poem by Keith M. Survell.","rel":"","context":"In "poems"","block_context":{"text":"poems","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/personal\/poems\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":1883,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2009\/04\/09\/the-landscapes-of-my-youth\/","url_meta":{"origin":1234,"position":4},"title":"The Landscapes of my Youth","author":"Keith Survell","date":"April 9, 2009","format":false,"excerpt":"I had an active imagination when I was younger \u2013 I dreamed up elaborate histories for the fictional worlds that inhabited the landscapes around my childhood home. 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