Before the Dawn Comes
A story of summer
She sits in heat filled air first tepid then cool if not cold, a distinction she appreciates but cannot afford to harbor so long as it’s better if not best The air is aimed directly at her and is swirled around her by an industrial fan stolen from the entryway when they were drying a seasonal flood ushered beneath the inch cracked door the year before
She’d seen the fan blow for days coveted it for the breeze which bathed her feet and the peace it might bring to her moody soul which hid in too hot air knowing not how to sing never made to stand this kind of suffering before no coolness to accompany her and heat currents which bend the light and warp the air
She’d taken it at 3:00 am one morning, planned and taken it, a clear case of premeditation, one she felt justified in though would not have long ago when such things as bills and debt had no impact and had never indicated the possibility this could change And if someone slipped before the red tiled floor dried naturally — a lengthy proposition In the humid wet lake air, so be it
It made just enough difference to make the theft worth it though she couldn’t keep the speed on high for fear someone might hear it, demand to know what the noise was, pounding and demanding to know why her hair no longer lay plastered in sweat to quite the same degree as theirs and complain of unfair treatment to the manager who of course, knew nothing
She’d slept the night before for the first time in weeks still on top of the covers which lay bunched beneath her dressed in a just a t-shirt but not one soaked again and again in the lukewarm sink water in the sleepless night to stave off the worst of it and avoid the heat filled rage that seemed to have taken over the other residents above and below her against which she double locked her door
Now she sits guilt free, every man for themselves in a world of narcissistic hunger for all things beautiful and powerful, expensive and prestigious But for her these things are meaningless, her only desire to remain free of the fever that reaches from lake depths with some degree of comfort, however limited, so she can greet the dawn with hope, pen in hand
Natalie Frank (Taye Carrol) has had work featured in Haunted Waters Press, Weirdbook Magazine, Siren’s Call Publications, Lycan Valley Press and Zero Fiction among others. Her poetry has been featured in several anthologies. She is Editor for 1-One-Infinity, The Partnered Pen and One Table, One World and is Editor in Chief for Promposity and Mental Gecko. She is also the Managing Editor for Novellas and Serials at LVP Publications.
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