3:57 am.


Nisa Shah awakened minutes before the alarm. She slid off her bed and passed along the shadows til she arrived at the gargantuan punching bag that hung lifeless at the center. She could barely make out its shape. Outside, the moon was perhaps a gleaming orb of radiant light. Inside the breadth of her living space however, darkness was her sweetest friend. No, darkness was so much more. It was an intimate lover. It caressed her. It touched her body with a tenderness no living, breathing being ever could.




Or ever did.




The enormous leather body barely felt a force. It continued its eternal slumber without as much a second thought. Nisa would not have it.




Perhaps the giant’s soul was finally being roused, for it sensed a slight uneasiness in its surroundings.




The beast had finally moved. It did not appreciate being woken at the dead of the morning, and as a response, it lazily pushed back.
‘No. ‘ muttered Nisa.






The man staggered back, unable to speak. A creamy stream of crimson flowed gracefully from his neck, down to his torso, gliding across his skin and in time, to his withered genitalia. It was a shame that he had lived to be sixty three. The light above flickered.


‘M-m-’ he uttered with his remaining breath, ‘Magi-’




Velvety redness splattered in every direction. It bathed the shelter with its radiance. The walls received a much needed new coat of paint and the floor too had been cleaned and carpeted at last. After years, the orphanage had been cleansed. After decades, it had finally seen life inside its walls flicker.




For the smallest of moments, darkness had stepped inside to see her handiwork. Darkness was impressed; it admired the renovations and gave her the smallest of winks before leaving.


Sixty three years, she thought once more, looking at the gorgeous work she had done.


What a shame indeed.




A smooth stream of sand began flowing gracefully from the fist sized hole. It cascaded onto the marble floor, hissing in defiance of Nisa’s actions. She was making a mental note to buy another punching bag (perhaps the 263rd one by that point) when her phone began blaring the alarm.


Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Stayin’ alive! Stayin’ alive!

Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Stayin’ alive! Stayin’ alive!


Nisa slithered over to her bed once more to put it to rest. ‘4:00 am’ it read obediently. Sliding her finger across the screen, she found herself face to face with the black wallpaper that had adorned her home screen for so long. Darkness.


No. Nisa pressed the lock key.






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