Dim Witted

1. Handprints & Newbies

There's a certain Slant of light,

Winter Afternoons –

That oppresses, like the Heft

Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –

We can find no scar,

But internal difference –

Where the Meanings, are –

None may teach it – Any –

'Tis the seal Despair –

An imperial affliction

Sent us of the Air –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –

Shadows – hold their breath –

When it goes, 'tis like the Distance

On the look of Death –"

"There's a Certain Slant of Light"
-Emily Dickenson

Sunny's POV

Sleeping came easy for everyone here. Since there were no shadows, nothing that we couldn't see, we were all secure. The red glowing through our eyelids comforted us, and the yellow paper plastered over our windows at night ensured that we couldn't have any irrational fears of the dark as we slept. With this in mind, and my yellow comforter hugging me close, I drifted off peacefully, covered in light from numerous sources.

Dusk's POV

The sun set a little while ago, and when the moon rose, so did I. I slipped out of bed quietly, already able to see everything perfectly in my unlit room. The Ablazes were all asleep, with their yellow paper completely covering their window, not allowing for them to see any darkness.

I chuckled to myself.

Their loss.

I pulled a brown shirt on over my head, having accidentally slept all through the day in my dark-blue jeans. I peered in the mirror, slightly ruffling my dark hair. I can vaguely remember a time when it used to be blonde.

Well, a lot has changed.

I strode easily out of my room, the door handle further cooling my already-chilled hands.

I smiled at the sensation. I don't very well remember the sun, but I do know that cool was much better than warm.

Exiting my room, I hooked a left and immediately pounded on the door.

"Jet! Let's go!" I hollered.

"Okay!" A voice shouted back, but from behind me. I whirled around, seeing Jet standing in all his glory. Figures he's up before me. He has a weird habit of getting up just before the moon to watch the sunset. No one says anything about it. We all still have some odd memory of light, Jet just renews his every nightfall.

He shoves a paper plate at me with two pieces of toast and some bacon. I eat it on the way to the front of the house, tossing the remains into the garbage bin to the left of the front door. I yank it open, letting the silvery glow of the moon shower both myself and Jet. We simultaneously take in a deep breath, then step into the world.

The Ablazes call it nocturnal.

I call it living.

Sunny's POV