This Constant Night by Alicia Woodcock
Grey light filters through layer upon layer of cloud and drizzles through thick mist, creating a dull, white glow. A chill, from the minuscule water droplets hanging in the air, creeps around my body, crawling over my skin and seeping into my bones. I pull the heavy wooden door closed behind me and the muffled thud echoes throughout my small corner of daybreak.
My bicycle leans against the hedge that surrounds the house, the handlebars swivelled to one side, as if resting. It glitters with condensation. I rub my gloved hands together before grasping the worn grips and kicking off onto the track that leads into town, mounting the saddle after a moment’s glide. At speed each droplet feels sharp and cuts into the rosy flesh on my cheeks.
I gauge the hidden sun’s ascent in the sky by the increasing intensity of the white glow above. A fresh current of air whips through my hair as I bring the bike to a halt at my locked-up stall, one among many.
“Morning Jack, Emily sends her love.”
“Morning lad, much obliged. How’re things?”
“Same old, same old…”
We exchange our jaded greetings, drawing comfort from the seldom varied formula of our morning routine.
At the end of the market day I lock down my station and mount my bicycle.
“See you tomorrow Jack.”
“Oh you can be sure of that.”
“Take care.”
“And you. Give my love to Emily.”
“Will do Jack.”
Back at home I rest my bicycle against the hedge then head out to the field, waving at the kitchen window as I pass. Emily waves back from inside where she bustles around the open fire.
“Afternoon dear.”
“Afternoon, Jack sends his love.”
“And I send mine.”
“I’ll tell him in the morning.”
I enter the field behind the house and notice that the fresh air has once again turned into the stale lingering stillness of approaching darkness. My hoe waits for me in the outhouse, I take it and lend my back to the shape of an afternoon’s toil.
When the last trace of white glow has dissipated into the mist I trudge back through the field, homing in on the orange glow emanating from the kitchen window: my symbol of warmth and comfort during this constant night.
Artist's Comments
This piece has been previously published in The Cave magazine.
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