At Night

Miguela Considine
Midnight Mosaic Fiction
1 min readJun 23, 2019
Photo by Jason Abdilla on Unsplash

at night

the cold creeps closer

seeking any slit

it can find

through holes unseen

it seeps under and

weaves itself until

my bones ache

too rigid to move

the blanket too thin

to ward off skeletal

fingers that grip

tender swollen joints

twisting them

burning them

an agony almost too much

to scream in

silent torment

as I stare at the

darkening ceiling

awaiting and begging for

the end

and the next night

the cold creeps

ever closer to

tighten its

grip

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Miguela Considine
Midnight Mosaic Fiction

Mig has been telling stories since before she could write words. Her tales always end up darker than she initially intends.