/yesod

Tag: shadows

  • dark ride

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in

    I am surprised to see a Ferris wheel looming over the downtown district, pale against the darkening sky. As evening descends, we make our way towards the carnival. It is dark everywhere. There are no flickering lights, no music — just the mechanical clack and clank of the rides, the muted murmur of the crowds.…

  • early morning

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in ,

    Woken by my daughter early this morning, unable to get back to sleep so I head downstairs to sit in the predawn dark, looking up from my book from time to time as little beads of shadow stream across the floor like dark mercury. An hour or so later, I hear footfalls overhead. They move…

  • opening night

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in

    …I find myself in the front row, enduring an abysmal production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” directed by my ex-wife. It’s godawful. Pretentious and ponderous. They’ve changed the language, modernized all the poetry out of it. And, insult to injury, they’ve added songs, turning it into a musical. Only Puck holds any interest. Dark and…

  • doing the dishes

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in ,

    …and as I turn to put a glass in the cupboard I startle and flinch backwards from the dark figure standing right at my left shoulder. Vague impressions . . . someone looking into my face . . . a male presence about my height but larger, heavy-set almost . . . broad head, the…

  • the shadow on the stairs

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in

    Dozing on the couch while the baby has her bath, I dream… …and at the turn of the stairs I look up to see a shadow slowly slide down the wall and onto the floor, like a black puddle of oil. From this pool, a figure slowly rises — an almost cartoonlike shape of a…

  • the pedestrian

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in

    Waking up in the winterdark, I head downstairs. Cold floors and echoes of early morning dreams. I pass by the front door and see someone out on the sidewalk, a dark shape bundled up against the cold. Halfway to the kitchen, I stop. The dark shape picking its way along the crust of snow, another…