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queen of night  

‘Do you feel that passing by?’ She asked.
‘Nothing’s passing.’ He replied.
‘Exactement, my point precisely, nothing’s moving.’
‘Except your lips.’He would have said but they were sealing shut.
Fly in the sky, the Moon was pulling slower, a tired luminescant rover, and anyway what was the point of this eternal circling, nobody would care if she just stopped, dropped.
Down in his cellar the Sun was struggling against all the bonds that bound him. Caught in his sleep the enemy had weighed him down, spoken the curses that now surround him.
Pulling the weight of it all the Moon could not contend, she began to fall, to the lovely peace that called her.
Everywhere was still now a lifeless desert, a glorious quiet that outbid any effort.
Except the Queen of the Night bustling through her palace. Of course she did not exist, an imaginary being, the weight that was pulling everyone could not clutch her. She could not feel the weight but she sensed it. No water flow, no flower bend, no brush of breeze. Then she knew her daughter falling.
By the turning of the page the Queen reached her tumbling daughter, caught her, made her arms a bed to rest in. If the Moon could not move the Queen resolved to carry her, to fight against this ending of the light.
The enemy was insidious, not one for bombs and slaughter, it gained its battles by the pull towards inertia.
The time of night was over, the Queen settled the Moon in her bed. Where was theSun? He should be up high in the sky by now.
The Queen travelled across a lifeless and freezing earth. The Sun in the cellar was a pitiful relic of itself, not shining now, just managing a glowing.
A voice boomed across the wastelands. ‘Your Majesty why do you try so hard? I’ve won, this place is mine. You have fought a valiant fight, now give in and take your rest.’
The Queen laughed. ‘Oh my foe so you think that I’ve been fighting, I have not even begun. Do you know who I am?’
‘Of course I do your Majesty, your Highness the Queen of the Night’
‘That is my title but it does not describe who I am.’ And she stamped her foot on the dying earth. Slowly lifting, slowly shifting, came every fear the night-time held; ghosts and ghouls, the walking dead, misshapen horrors, the phantoms and the dread. ‘Ah my friends so well met now let us have a party, play and dance I order you.’ All these denizens of the dark lifted what might have been their legs, kicked out and whirled, singing a dirge with gusto. The enemy screamed in pain, any sign of life was anathema to its lifeless throne. Its tentacles lashed out but were shredded by the terrors they were fighting.’
The Queen gained ground. Now all its menace had been beaten, she found the enemy. It was an unchanging stillness, an illness, a nothing there, and never was, and never ever would be, a pull towards an early death, a rest against the fight of life. The Queen pressed it small and placed it in her watch.

picture stories BELLA comp  

‘Its been said,’
she said,
‘that I am remarkably divine like,
pretty as a picture,
more like living pearls.
It comes to pass that when
any man or women
see my face they are struck dumb with admiration,
my visage
takes charge of all their respiration
and they fall down to the floor,
a smile sublime playing on their mouth
like I’d given them a shot of heroin or something.
Its best to say
that this is most upsetting,
thus I cover my face
for fear of letting the population tumble down around me,
could lead to an accident.
So I’ve devised this mask
to spare the world
my face appearing
and searing brain cells to a dusty blow.
I am quite civic minded
don’t you think?
Tra la.’