The lights fading embers danced upon the ragged edge of horizon, imbuing the graduating sky to oranges infused with golden shards across a pale luminescent blue. Clouds baring golden linings pierced the darkening sky above, as the first star appeared, as if coaxed from slumber.
The writer’s heart stilled, confronted by such beauty was always a profound and almost sacred moment, imbibed into memory to an effervescent pool of words and phrases not yet written. And as the moment passed, the darker sky grew quickly, stars like guests, arrived for the celebration, the glimmering chastity of the heavens. He took a slow and deeply afferent breath, to know the night, the air chilled slightly to welcome its oncoming. Then with heart filled and soul sated, he turned and went inside the house.
The cat’s lonely cry made him feel engaged, knowing that she wanted his attention and there was no other way to placate her precious soul. So he went to the kitchen to offer a small tin of sustenance, her favourite salmon in broth. She circled him purring, round and round against his legs, her plush tail whipping by as if not to follow her elegant path. Then the offering placed neatly on the floor was devoured with great feline pleasure.
At the table the blank screen of his laptop beckoned, and the flashing cursor like road lights at works unfinished, drew his mind into the dark mire of beginnings. He smiled wryly and with two fingers armed, began to type.