Sparks felt dead. This happened every morning after she’d just got out of bed. There was worry mixed in, as she may have talked in her sleep. She hid her deadness and worry and assorted behaviors as best she could under a crinkle-cut top, and hoped for the best.
The Moro Beam- part of which was cut occasionally by her hand swiping through as she wove her hair into sailor’s knots- was her 2nd latest acquisition ( the crinkle-cut top being the latest) . She was quite sure that she was the only being in this particular facet who even knew what such a thing was. There was exactly enough space for it up here in the bedroom, and there’d be even more space for it after a few extra things were hidden.
It was in Sparks’ nature ( hidden as it was) to bury doubt in a cake ( or under it to be more exact), where nobody, including herself, could see it. Good things were hidden too, but for different reasons, and in different places. This room, for example. This was the room where she kept all the light. The rest of the house was just dusty old football colours, and flattened shapes with matching shadows.
Sparks Cyan Prickle had appointed herself King of Light. If she hadn’t been allowed to choose her name, then at least she’d been able to choose her role. She kept this secret ( of course) and whenever she encountered suspicion in someone, she’d just download aforementioned suspicion as a pdf document, then file it away under a different name. Then she’d go upstairs, open the window, and aim the Beam wherever she pleased.
Growing light was a bit like knitting; dropping a stitch through the day meant an extra hour of night. This was of little consequence so long as she remembered to pick up the daylight before too much night had elapsed. This would prevent brightness reductions the next day.
The sailor’s knots were done. They could now be fixed with a waterproof sealant, allowing them to last for up to a fortnight. That was a trick that Mess the Timekeeper had taught her. For that, Mess had been given a discount on that week’s light. They were quite close friends, now. As close as was realistic, anyway.
Life was currently easing into late Autumn, so being a few minutes later than yesterday didn’t matter much. Soon enough it would be Winter, when pride and any number of other sins could easily be hidden under a coat. It was also when people generally began to notice they were getting paid slightly less than light for the shadows they were trading in at the pawn shop. They always survived though, cheering themselves up with Wondering tournaments, and sparkling dust. The compensation of Spring was only ever 3 months away. Sparks always found it a bit adorable the way they’d look at a flower then, ie. as if they’d never seen one before. Spring People were like the birds, who celebrated each dawn as though night had threatened eternity.
As the day passed, Sparks did some filing/ hiding of things until the mirror seemed adequately bored.
Two hours after the second half of the last second of the day, King Sparks C Prickle unlocked her teeth with a plastic fork and shoveled some cheesecake in, careful to keep a certain song inside. Then, in the dark spot under the Beam, she slept.
Illustration by me ( as are all artyworksies on this blawg)