monsters

On a tranquil night like this people sleep. That’s neither here nor there really, their sleep may be troubled or erratic, or they may worry at their sheets like a rosary or fetish; but the night itself is tranquil, piano music plays. Clouds move silently, lights flick off, in short, night arrives not with the garish cheer of day but gradually, like sinking.
Somehow, it quiets complexities. Surely horrors happen at night, maybe even most of them, but the feeling hangs that maybe even the monsters have gone to bed.