New Space

The room has a rich deep green color with a splash of brightness.  It is warm and inviting, and the bed is so comfortable.  Its cluttered and relatively small.  It is home.  This is how it should be, this is how it once was.  Now it looks the same but the feeling is very different.  This room is the home to the night.  The night made it bleak and sad.  The room looks at you with guilt and pity.  The lone person in the room sits in the corner against the shelves and looks onto the bed.  The night has consumed him.  He sits with watery eyes,  emotion is pouring out of him without him moving or making a sound.  He just sits there.  What is he thinking, is he ok? can you help?  its a mystery.  Just as big of a mystery as the night.  the memories of the night consume him and the room.  The bed remains the same.  the moon shines in through the huge open window.  the mirrors on the opposite side of the wall make the moon seem even brighter, casting a haunting light throughout the room.  The warm flannel sheets on the bed are untucked, and unmade, making what was a warm loving bed into a cold lifeless rock. The night has killed the man, the room, the bed and anyone who wants to venture into the room.  It is not a place for man.  Man cannot hold his own against the night.  The night consumes him just as it has the rest of the life that was once the room.  The night has moved on, but the emotion has not.   It persists while the night is free to venture to other rooms, and do as it pleases.  this is not to say the night is bad.  The night can be nice it can create pleasant moods for the rooms it visits, but not for this room, this room this night did not receive any pleasure.  The night will not come back.  It has passed.  It is gone.  and the room shall remain the same, silent, cold, and lifeless.