Himmelsgrau

It has never been this calm before. A short piece on a childhood fear.

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1. Dark waves crash against the crisp sand beneath pairs of feet. It has never been this calm before. Airs still sufficient, hearing the hiss fade. The company is cosy, familiar.

   
   

2. "Look up." A warm and certain voice. Weathered by experience and cracked by tales. "Look up. See." There is but a singular light in the night sky. "See. Shapes. Formations. Shadows arranged just so it smiles." Comforting. It watches over you. Every move?  Every action? Every thing? Everything. Sharp wind caresses over skin. Watching everything?

   
   

3. Others move. Stay here. Stay put. And stare. A visible smile, and more staring, more smiling. Until it is real and exact, as it sharpens with each breath. Stare. And it stares back. Somewhere in the body, something answers. Innards moving out. Tears rolling down cheeks.  Stand. Unmoving. Unable to deflect. Gaze.
   

   Are you coming home? Hurried imprints are left on the sand.
   

4. The dark remains. Holding steady. Between covers and pillows, the staring also remains. Pinpoints of incandescence persist within the folds of the curtain. Every gap is precise. Each one aligns within. It leers through, gazes, and still smiles. The curtain cannot be changed. And it will continue to gaze upon you.
   

5. Breaths can grow shallow in the weight of its presence. Unyielding. Sleep refuses to come, and covers don't protect any longer. It will still see you. From the wall, from the ceiling, from the smallest threadbare opening, the same curve of shadow and light, unblinking. This isn't anyone.
   

6. The end of the night should have finished its tenure. Glimpse up now and its pale form lingers in a washed sky. Thin as breath on a glass. Edges fade but the glaring endures. No voice mentions, and no eyes turn upwards. The smile among the clouds is faint, but it does not blink. There. It follows. Smirking. Watching. It moves within.
   

7. The arc across the sky widens, slow, deliberate. Light deepens in places it should fade. Shadows stretch toward it in recognition. The curve, the formations, the grin, pulled tight, showing of its improbable teeth. How it looms. How it watches.

   All caught unawares. In its insurmountable presence, complete surrender remains the only option.
   

8. The worst has come to pass. Observation is complete. Proximity has exceeded all known measures. Containtment remains impossible.

   
   

9. No structure, distance nor shelter has been found to obscure, escape, the gaze. The washed out voyeur fixed overhead; the grin stretched out over its body.The observant eye reflects all surfaces, aligns all shadows until they are one.

   
   

10. Action is to be taken before the last threshold is crossed. Though it may occupy the sky, the streets, and all light, it may never take us. Our souls. Action is to be taken before an impossible compromise. Before it can desecrate our graves and rape our corpses. Preserve through immolation. Preserve through surrender.

    
    

11. There is no disgrace within a rightful termination. Death within victory is most honourable.

    
    

12. It is privilege to be called to action.

    It is a privilege to cease.