the apparition

stopped coming to my dreams, the lighted lampposts started dimming and the sound of footsteps started coming from the street. i know not, whether it was an indication of a new dawn, a new beginning or a lost soul, wandering around, the footsteps that i could still hear, few lost words in the general humming around. the restlessness cease to hount me and boredom had its grip so tight that i almost felt suffocating, the kind of suffocation you feel when everything smells the same around you and you loose the hope of seeing any new occurances of amusing wizardry, the king of suffocation that you fell when you are surrounded by a thousand mirrors and see yourself all around and still knowing that it is not you. you can hear the sound of time ticking away and the racing heart coming to a stop, or evaporate like spirits dropping on your palm, without a sizzle, without any noise.

the apparition stopped coming ot my dreams, as it had warned me so, but i never believed as i had never believed that it was an apparition after all.

the purple dust settled on her feathers and her lovely fish eyes, her voice breaking the silence as if a tray of twinkling wine glasses just hit the floor and her footfalls coming like hustling of wind chimes. the wind chimes lay still near the window, no morning breeze ever cares to pay her a visit anymore, nor are the gusts in the afternoon able to move them. the purple dust blew away and so she disappeared. she had warned me, but i would never believe her. the apparition stopped coming to my dreams.