Night Harvest (Five Sentence Fiction, August 2012)

The prompt from Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction this week was Night.

She watches from the window as the sun finally sinks beneath the horizon leaving a blaze of red and purple to mark its passing and then turns away, going further into the room, away from prying eyes.

The transformation always takes a while, and she can be patient; she has learned to sit quietly as a gentle resonance stirs her limbs, moving slowly up her torso until her entire body gradually disappears into a spinning cocoon of silver mist, soft as velvet, slippery as silk.

The window creaks opens in response to some impulse from the silver coil which then glides gently out into the darkness, turning, twisting in rapture as the cool night air caresses the particles of its being; there is much to enjoy, much to experience on this planet.

Across the rooftops it soars into the night sky, curling gently down again to find other windows that have been left open on this heavy summer night – windows that will allow it access not only to study men, women and children, but also to harvest their dreams, fears and aspirations; there is a long night ahead.

And as a pale cyan strip emerges in the eastern sky, it rises, sated with all that it has devoured in the long night hours, and turns to head for home;  it is almost dawn, and the messenger will be here shortly, ready to convey this consignment back to the home planet, where its people will be royally entertained for aeons to come.