“Genesis Chapter 1 Verses 3-5 will tell you that God created light, he saw that it was good and He divided it from the darkness. It will also tell you He called the light Day and the darkness Night. Now, I know God and I know what He created. I also know man and what they think God created. God didn’t create me, I created myself.” ~ Night
“For eons all I’ve ever done is adapt and change; the moon is my heart, full but once a month, the stars soft and subtle changes in personality. People and children fear the darkness, the fear the night, the unknown, yet I offer them glimpses of light and hope if they would only open their eyes. Tonight the stars die and my heart along with it. Tonight the night runs black. Tonight and every night from here until the end of time belongs to me.” ~ Night
“Have you ever wondered why I’m so good at what I do? It’s because I’ve been doing it for a millennia. You would lose your mind if I told you that the first being to every have a nightmare was the Sun. That’s right, you heard me correctly, I said the Sun. He’s a little piss ant child too afraid of the dark. Why do you think he burns so bright? And why do you think I stick around? To remind him of what happens when the lights go out.” ~ Night
“Even when the Sun shines Night walks among man; those shadows you cast don’t belong to you, they belong to Night.” Excerpt from The Nocturnal Realm
The above excerpts/thoughts/ideas are glimpses into a character, Night, that I thought of that was inspired by a short story by my friend Robert. The secondary title for the short story is The Cure for Sleep, I remember this so I will always refer to the story as The Cure for Sleep. Night is both a consequence of the events in The Cure for Sleep and a player in the plot line of the extended story/world. Robert asked me to describe Night physically because he was inspired by an image/scene I had shared with him, he wants to write a story on Night. The following is a description of how I picture Night or how I imagine meeting Night would be.
As the day slowly stretches towards its end and shadows extend beyond the horizon the long, and lean Night appears; reminiscent of the after image burned into your retina when you’ve stared at the Sun far too long and the person you swore you saw in your eye’s peripherals. Night is tall and sharp, his suit clean like the purest black. He is both nothing and everything in one. The lines of his face could cut a diamond. His hair a swirling nebula. His eyes like the storm of Jupiter, chaotic and beautiful, a sight to behold. People that have been caught in his gaze have been known to experience a weightlessness or floating feeling, cold and insignificant. When he speaks his voice consumes you, it is both endless silence and static. On the rare occasion that Night smiles a galaxy of stars twinkle on his face. His walk is effortless, a stride smooth and confident like a passing storm. He never lurks or creeps, he watches with intent. Cool like James Dean or The Rat Pack but with the nonchalance of a royalty not of this earth. Occasionally he can be seen smoking a thin strand of hay (see Hay in Art) that looks like a comet.
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