Forgotten night, it hung over the town, its presence like a heavy shroud that smothered the streets in darkness. The lamps flickered weakly, their dim light swallowed by the suffocating gloom. No one remembered when the sun had last set or if it had ever risen again, and time had twisted in on itself, coiling and folding like a serpent devouring its tail.
It was a forgotten night, covering everything, cloaking the buildings in shadow. The town had been abandoned long ago, or so it seemed. Windows were boarded up, doors left ajar, and the streets were empty. Yet, there was a sense of something lingering, unseen eyes watching from the shadows. The silence was unnatural, broken only by the occasional creak of wood or the distant howl of wind through the empty alleys.
Forgotten night, it whispered secrets to the wind, carrying them on the chill breeze that swept through the empty town. Wandering the streets, unknown footsteps echoed faintly in the stillness. There were no signs of life, no movement save for the shifting shadows that seemed to haunt. The air was thick with the scent of decay, of things long past their time. The town itself was eroding, crumbling away under the weight of years.
The forgotten night consumed everything, leaving no trace of what had once been. It was unmistakable now, weaving itself through every crack, enveloping all in its path like a shroud. The darkness was alive, shifting, breathing, and could be perceived as an icy wind. There was no escape from the forgotten night, no light to guide the way—only the endless obscurity, swallowing everything in its path, erasing all that had ever been.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
