Story inspired by the featured artwork of Shanghai born painter, 龐卡 Pang Ka Karl Bang.

Wednesday, November, 20 2019

It would be the night all creators awaken at 3AM, and after months of sleepless nights, finally an hour worth missing.

“Why am I here to speak with you all?” Is the question to the awaken. These are not your fathers of layman, teachers of children, nor mothers in plea—it would take a midnight bulb to unravel their identity. By dawn’s rest there’s no concern. And seeking answers in a place most thrive above substance, was the cow’s double edged sword.

Beneath the brightest of midnight, an epic beam of trust lit up a canvas of black. Art in the sky would best describe a vibe so elegant. The daughter of one million greeters would appear to answer the question, but a conversation ending in epiphany is worth having if awkward be the price to pay.

“You’re here because they can hear you,” responded a young lady looking yonder out of bed.

How so are the antelope when the lions are tamed? At what cost do we expect an answer for sleeping with the beasts? Something had been afoot. And there at her foot was the paw. She never flinched, but the hours leading into the chant, she’d make her beacon appear.

“You sleep with these tamed monsters?”

“No, most of the night I’m awake. It’s hard to sleep,” she responded.

“What is this to you? A test?”

“I have two ears, I hear you. I have a mouth, I still dare to respond. My heart’s beating and pulse rising. I’m awake because these hours I usually don’t sleep…”

“The message mustn’t be for you. We’re approaching 330. Rest now.”

“But wait, I can hear you…,” she pleads.

“Anyone can hear. Not many trust.”

“Don’t you see the beast I sleep amongst? I dwell away from the herding cattle and sheep.”

Though her presence was grand in the eyes of many, her desire to reap would pause the speaker. Her father a greeter. Mother a caregiver. Creators awaken to create. When the speaker didn’t respond, she’d glare at the paws of Chester.

She’d sigh in relief as a reminder to never acknowledge such an hour. What goes around comes around. But shit get’s awkward when the moon shines from the wrong side.

-Budd

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... "The words we speak become our vehicle; what you read is how I digest them.” -Budd

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