We all feel better in the dark...

[zefr]

A single candle eminating light from the small bedside table - covered in quills and bits of parchment - gave the room an eerily dark atmosphere. The solitary and confined illumination of the candle cast shadows about the room that danced across the rough stone walls, never still for even a moment. The room was by no means large, but the single candle barely lit up even half of it - leaving much for pitch darkness to govern over. Words had began to run through my head, cascading through my mind randomly and inconsistently... The suddent burst of mental process at such an unholy hour began to make me feel slightly dazed, and I reached my hand across to balance myself on my bedside table. In the process of doing so, I managed to knock over a glass vial of ink that was teetering precariously on the edge of the table. I watched in tired fascination as time seemed to slow - the descent of the vial towards the cold hard floor seemingly defying gravity in terms of speed and acceleration. Finally, it reached its inevitble end, and smashed across the stones - blobules of the dark murky substance splattering across a wide circumference of space. Cursing under my breath, I assessed the situation and decided it would be futile to try and clean it up, especially considering that would involve effort. However, the realisation of what had happened at this point dawned moments after : I had knocked over my last vial of ink... My last vestige of writing.

Until I acquired a new vial, of course.

-z-