Darn · An extract from Beware your Dreams…
For Gwinnie to read…
There is no such thing as silence. There is no such thing as dark. I can hear a beetle moving over fallen leaves on the forest floor below. I can hear the badgers snuffling through pine needles in the high wood, half a mile away. And the searchlight beam of my eyes, which only I can see, picks out a spider crawling up the bark below me, fixes on a sparrow slumbering in the ivy.
I am silence. I am darkness. And I am death. In a way, I am the perfect killer, coming from nowhere and never seen. I kill simply to eat, without pleasure or pity. It’s what I have to do. I have rested, now I float across the fields. In the thick gloom of dusk I am invisible, and my wings, almost motionless, make less sound than a moth’s.
But at last the ruined walls loom up before me, I swing up and through the empty window frame, and up again into the shadows of the massive roof. Here there is secrecy and silence and safety, here I will doze and dream, and stretch.
And then I will morph back into my human shape.
