Copyright Roger Bultot
The city barely sleeps.
Neither does it dream; it has nourishment enough from the broken dreams of those who spend their lives fluttering like moths, beating fragile dusty wings against an unattainable light.
Occasionally it dozes fitfully towards dawn, but seldom more than that. The streetlights may dim a fraction, the drumming of tyres on tarmac may fade to a soporific hum, yet tranquility is rare.
So eventually my children will return home, to be restored by silence, stillness, darkness, peace.
They will know where to find me when the time for them is right. I can wait.
As the lockdown continues, the list of chores seem to grow daily. When did I ever find time to have a life outside the home? Thanks to Friday Fictioneers and Rochelle for this little foray each week outside the confines of our ever-cleaner, ever more beautifully maintained home.
castelsarrasin 
Jings, Sandra, in addition to your unmatched ability to read people, you also do creepy so well!
I don’t know who or what your narrator is, but ‘silence, stillness, darkness, peace’ made me squirm.
‘I can wait’ caused a small shudder.
Really cool!
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Ah thanks, CE. I didn’t intend to imply ambiguity as I wrote it, but as ever, something emerged unsought and just needed a little more encouragment with ‘I can wait’. Thanks for reading.
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Always a pleasure and an education, Sandra
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Hi Sandra,
Noodles steeping in the sauce pan. My chores are done for the day. Dinner soon.
This is one of your best and that’s saying something, because over the years you have consistently delivered story after excellent story. I hope the readers in this new generation of FF have figured that out, because nothing is more certain in my mind. (For your consideration, and with a request for patience with one so long removed from the fray, please read your story absent the words total and perpetual. The ‘used to be me’ heard it this way and if you like it then there’s two words gone and the city’s song still beautifully revealed.
An evocative tale, well imagined and written.
Stay safe. I’m watching out for you.
Yours, D.
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Lovely to hear from you, Doug, and am enjoying reading your daily blog from the backwoods. I share many of your concerns. As you can see, I’ve taken your advice, and for the benefit of those reading later, the amendments were the removal of ‘total’ tranquility and ‘perpetual’ soporofic hum. I agree – adjectival excess creeps in to take the writer unawares. Thank you. And you too stay safe. From what I hear you are safer than most of us. And that’s good. Looking forward to a day when you may grace these squares once more.
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Hi Sandra,
They’re fine if you needed them, but that’s a sublime piece without them. NZ is on the cusp of something great. I hope we pull it off. Dashing now to try to keep my streak going. Lovely to read your voice.
Love, D.
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Let adjectival excess reign supreme in your work, Sandra. All the best from the other Doug 🙂
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Doug, As one of the relative newbies I can assure you that Sandra’s writing is held in very high esteem. It is clever, elegant and sometimes heartfelt, and only rarely less than excellent.
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Excellent write. Atmospheric and more than a little ghostly – with a great enigmatic ending.
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Many thanks, Anthony. 🙂
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You create a world and a mentality with so few words, Sandra
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Many thanks, Neil.
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Loved the mood of this story. Perfectly fits the prompt.
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Thank you, Tannille. It’s a very striking prompt.
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Most atmospheric, but is there something eldritch?
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‘Eldritch’… such a lovely word! Rolls off the tongue beautifully. Thanks Sue. 🙂
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A lovely word to describe unsettling things….
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Dear Sandra,
You’ve captured the hum of the city. Well crafted with subtle nuances. You never cease to amaze me.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Many thanks for reading, Rochelle. And for your kind comment. I hope you’re staying safe and well.
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Beautifully written slice of life from the perspective of a parent. Well done.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks for reading, Susan.
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Yes some cities never seem to sleep, I really enjoyed reading this Sandra
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Many thanks, Mike.
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An eerie atmosphere with a little shudder at the end. Fits the current world we live in very well.
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Yes, these are weird times, Iain. Thanks for reading.
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Lovely meditation this week, Sandra.
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Many thanks, Josh.
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I agree with CE there – that had a really sinister edge there, intended or not! Almost makes me fear for those children to scream – don’t go home! at them 🙂 Great story
Chores a plenty being done here – the garden is more ahead than it’s ever been (I have seedlings everywhere!) and my other half has painted pretty much every room in the house. What will we do with ourselves if lockdown goes on much longer? Only kidding – I’m getting A LOT of writing done.
Keep well
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I didn’t intend for it to be sinister, but I sensed how it was doing! Many thanks for reading, Lynn. Stay safe and well.
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Great story – sinister intention or not! Thanks Sandra, and you
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Nice words. May our loved ones be safe wherever they are.
Sweet are the fruits of patience.
May your waiting time be good and after the patience, may you get the fruits!
Stay safe.
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Thanks for reading, Anita.
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Sounds like death, and Death is waiting. Don’t know if that’s where you were heading, but that’s I what I saw. As always, an intense and layered story.
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Many thanks, Linda. I think the story took on a mind of its own.
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What soulful atmospherics. I a m a huge fan of your writings. Reading you is an unvarnished pleasure, Sandra
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That’s very kind of you Neel. And thank you for reading.
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So funny… I didn’t feel it sinister so much as sad. Beautifully written. You truly are a mistress of this genre.
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Aww thanks Dale. No, it wasn’t meant to be sinister but clearly it took on that form. Thanks for reading, sorry to be late acknowledging.
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No worries! There is no time frame, as far as I am concerned…
And see? You didn’t mean it to be sinister so I read it well 😉
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I like the image of fragile dusty wings. I hope your children return without any trouble.
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Thanks for reading, Larry.
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This is a wonderful piece! You use effective description to characterise the city as the place where dreams – and with them, people – are broken, and then change the mood to the patient waiting of the mother, who knows she will have to pick up the pieces.
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Many thanks for reading and such a lovely comment, Penny. Sorry to be late acknowledging it – the days seem to run together and I lose track of where I am in the week.
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I felt something else as well… the sense of being locked inside if you are “at risk” for covid-19 it means you have to wait for children and grand-children a long time. I can sense the stillness inside even if the city is humming.
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Thanks for reading, Bjorn. Hope all is well with you in your country.
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This is intriguing. There’s kind of an ominous, creepy feel, but, at the same time, there seems to be an underlying sense of hope.
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Thanks for reading. Glad you found it intriguing, it certainly seems to be ambiguous.
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Your description of city life is uncannily accurate and poignant. My take is that the narrator is death, where peace finally may be found for the dashed dreamers. Another great story, Sandra!
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That’s an interesting perspective. Thanks for reading.
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My pleasure, Sandra, you’re welcome.
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it’s a description of new york city as i remember. well done.
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Many thanks.
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Atmospheric and a tad unsettling, perhaps as those times are.
Hope you are keeping well, these oh-so-odd times!
Na’ama (from very odd NYC)
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Odd times indeed. Thanks for reading.
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Indeed … And … you are welcome!
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Lovely, she knows her children so well. The excitement of the city only lasts so long for many.
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Thanks for reading. Yes, city life can be grown out of.
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Scratching my head about people finding this piece unsettling, Sandra. Loved it.
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Many thanks Doug. Yes, it has been open to interpretation. 🙂
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We do have to wait for them!
Loved it!
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It was ever thus. Thanks for reading.
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👍
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I have a mental list of jobs around the house I mean to do, but writing is more important!
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Yes, the list never seems to end.
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Some beautiful imagery in this piece, Sandra.
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Many thanks, Thom.
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Hey, Sandra! How are you? Excellent story, masterfully constructed. I sure enjoy the mood it has.
Five rooftops and chimney sweeps. 🙂
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Lovely to hear from you. It’s been a long time! Thanks for reading.
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Same here! 🙂
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You’ve created the atmosphere of the city, even in its not-so-silent early hours. I like it very much.
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Many thanks, Eugenia. Sorry to be so late acknowledging your comment – I don’t know where the days are going.
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I know a lot of people who are saying that it’s weird but they’re busier now than before the “lockdown”. 😀
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I like the the mysterious city, as a character in a way. As others have said, it is creepy The last two lines evoked a rendezvous in a tomb or in the after-life. Well done.
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Yes, it’s been an ambiguous story, I think. Thanks for reading.
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An understated bluntness. A calm hopelessness. A beautiful bird’s eye of the city
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