The Hour of the Wolf

It always happens at the same time of night.

I sit here in the dark and the silence and I feel the world suddenly pressing in on my mind.  All the thoughts that I manage to set afloat the other twenty-three hours of the day return home to roost and preen, leaving behind the detritius of doubt caught in their feathers in my mental drain.  

It is like waking slowly from a nightmare turned real, becoming aware of all that might have been and all the ways you might have made a better life.  It's knowing nothing you would have done could have changed anything - for all your effort and work, you'd still be the same scared loser sitting in the safety of the electric lights of civilization with the wolf howling outside your door.

I have come to relish the darkness, the silence, and the eerie warning in my soul.  It is a meditation, an introspection and a horror all at once.  So long as I never give into the darkness, I can listen to the song all I like, but unlike others who do not hear (or refuse to listen) I must be aware of the risk of listening.

That way lies madness...