A Veil of Darkness

I heard only the distant cry of coyotes as I turned the door latch, and stepped inside the house with my lantern held out before me. Shadows on the walls and ceiling danced from the light of a candle, a small beacon atop the cupboard.
I placed my lantern on the broad oak table and settled into the wooden chair. Laying open my journal, I affixed the date and began to tell of this night, as my pen scratched away like a mouse in a paper bag.
It was the eve of the Sabbath, on the 8th day of December and the village was bathed in a deep darkness. The night offered neither moon nor stars as an eerie silence filled the air. A spell had apparently come over the village, as a hush had fallen on the music and voices of the night.
The oil lamps flickered behind closed windows as neighbors huddled closely and pondered the passing of the cloak. Law keepers were hurrying to the schoolhouse where alarms had gone out and all of the night sentinels had abandoned their posts. The dying of the light had left open the door to night dwellers and mischief makers.
The tall clock in the corner of the room chimed the count of six, and then seven, as it’s pendulum lazily counted off the hours. Still, the night dragged on as I closed my journal and leaned back in my chair. I wondered what the morning would bring, and if the night chill would overtake the house.
Suddenly, the room was filled with light and the chirps and beeps of appliances resetting themselves. The voices of familiar strangers once again poured from behind glowing video screens.
Yes, power had returned to the city of Princeton, and the lantern which had kept me company now seemed woefully inadequate. I turned down the wick and blew out the flame and mused that while the lights had returned, I would soon turn them out again and go to bed.
It was an otherwise normal evening, made special by the temporary absence of more that just light, but of convenience. It was a night welcomed as “something different”, to stir the imagination, a thing that’s sometimes hard to find, even for those of us living on the edge…of town.