Light

     The lights in the city are bright at night. This has the advantage of illuminating interior spaces, but the distinct disadvantage of turning windows into mirrors when the peaceful, bright-eyed residence looked out into the night. The mirrors have some holes, where a street lamp creates a ball of light on the pavement, or when the headlights of a speeding car slam against the glass, but in general, the night beyond the walls is black to all those inside.

     Years and years ago, back and back and back, the sea covered this land. The light sparkled across the waters, playing in the waves, diving down to tickle the fish. It was much warmer then than it is now, tropical with life scrambling over each other, sleeping on top of one another, abundant. The great fish ate the small fish who ate the small crawling creatures who ate the creatures the size of specs who lived by being tickled by the sun.

     Imagine the solace, the silence, and the serenity of the shallow sea. A group of jellyfish flitting about the water column, allowing the waves and current to disperse them. Imagine something like a sea snail slowly pushing its foot out of its shell, slowly gliding across the sand in search of food. Imagine a colony of colourful coral swaying with the current, soaking up the sun and growing towards the light. Peaceful, purposeful, and playful.

When the lights were turned off and the sun turned on and day followed night, the city found a cold body laying on a fossilized bed of coral, sleeping past the break of day and never to wake again. And with all the light in the night, no one saw a thing.