Dark Splendor

Dark SplendorImagine Ten clocks in the house all chime midnight together, a miraculous feat in itself, but an unwelcome one given the reminder of the hour. It is late, and yet sleep is still far off. There is much to be done. You push back your chair from the desk (or what should be a desk hidden under all the mug ringed papers), the old castors squeaking beneath your weight. You rise and trudge over to the percolator in search of the highest possible octane

The littlest one wakes first

and you have no idea how you ended up here

Library of Alexandria

Mother comes to rouse her child

grabs them by the ankle

In achingly slow motion

but she spoke not a word to him

you have no idea

8 oz full-sized candles: 45-50 hours each

A snow-covered pine tree chopped down in the depth of the forest

On one very cold night

The door opens