The Bed Warden
Each night the old man sat at the foot of the bed like some warden. Was he there to protect or keep us confined? Were there silhouettes of minions or just the need to see us off to sleep? Some questions are never answered in life, especially in our childhood. Like many other summer nights, this one was hot. The ceiling fan twirled in a blur: little comfort could it bring. Was he still watching, or had he dozed off himself?
I don’t recall what brought the warden the first time. I just know that he’s been around for some time now, like clock work. Strange part is, when I awake, he’s gone...like the shadows of the night. The warden, he don’t say much. Just sits there and listens to the music of the night. He’s kind enough to change the CD periodically, so we don’t get so tired of the same old songs. My eyelids always get so heavy. Does he make it through the entire CD? The oiled hinges of the door always muffle his escape. Why does he get to escape? The Phantom Warden. That’s what he is. What are the benefits of being a warden? Is there a health and dental plan? Is it volunteer work? Is he more like the tooth fairy that has some strange complex and obsession? The rumpled bedding near my feet offer no answers. Let me ponder, perhaps inspiration will follow, silently.
Each night the old man sat at the foot of the bed like some warden. Was he there to protect or keep us confined? Were there silhouettes of minions or just the need to see us off to sleep? Some questions are never answered in life, especially in our childhood. Like many other summer nights, this one was hot. The ceiling fan twirled in a blur: little comfort could it bring. Was he still watching, or had he dozed off himself?
I don’t recall what brought the warden the first time. I just know that he’s been around for some time now, like clock work. Strange part is, when I awake, he’s gone...like the shadows of the night. The warden, he don’t say much. Just sits there and listens to the music of the night. He’s kind enough to change the CD periodically, so we don’t get so tired of the same old songs. My eyelids always get so heavy. Does he make it through the entire CD? The oiled hinges of the door always muffle his escape. Why does he get to escape? The Phantom Warden. That’s what he is. What are the benefits of being a warden? Is there a health and dental plan? Is it volunteer work? Is he more like the tooth fairy that has some strange complex and obsession? The rumpled bedding near my feet offer no answers. Let me ponder, perhaps inspiration will follow, silently.
2 comments:
Very nice, very nice indeed. I like how the story itself leaves questions unanswered and how I can almost smell childhood when I read it.
Exquisite imagery! It's almost as if lippi has returned. Great piece - I love it. Melody said it best, "I can almost smell childhood when I read it." Thanks for sharing.
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