Dec 14, 2008 14:58
A travelling patch of shadow called Onyekachi is enjoying his run of the night when the sun lands atop him like a big heavy foot. Ow!
But this doesn't feel like the sun. No. This is too white and shrill, like an insect, all buzz and no substance, not like papa sunlight's smooth mellifluous voice or callous heat and anger. Onyekachi sticks out a hand, waving it in the air, then sticks out a foot, then hops up into human form and looks around. No, this is definitely not outside, and not lamplight either, and doesn't feel like any one of the gods.
He turns to look behind him. Oh, that's a wide mouth, all light and challenge, and he doesn't like the looks of it. The room's white and smooth and fit together with sharp turns like the patterns on market cloth, not like huts or even temples or altars, and he melts back down into shadow again and slinks under the big lying-chair. The light is too much buzz on his back and he doesn't care for that. Maybe the new fake sun will go away, or maybe someone will come in and he can join up with their shadow instead.
Until then, he'll just sleep here. He's good at sleeping through the daylight.
onyekachi,
mitsuki takahashi