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Morn and Night.

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Joanne Vale This supernatural transformation happens every day, but no-body notices or realises. They only see and feel how the atmosphere changes. Adrenalin starts pumping, creating vivid images of dark, tall murderers, creepy, butch rapists and masked thugs armed with objects of violence. Then it suddenly changes: murderers transform into daffodils and daisys which litter gardens and grass cut-a-ways next to concrete paths, reflecting collected dew onto passing traffic, rapists turn into free flying birds, escaping to the heavens above, whilst thugs turn into freshly painted cottages and soaring flats which disappear into fluffy shapes of cotton wool. This change is night and day. Morn I wake early, lying still, listening. Faint breathing can be heard in the next room. Although it is six 'o' clock, with dark curtains covering the sky, the birds are heard talking to each other, spilling secrets that they have collected through out the week. The low, distant hum of traffic can be identified, as hectic twelve hour shifts awaits those who dread the Monday morning opening onto the hell of work. I realise that I'll have to rise out of bed soon, as the radio switches on to booming beats and whiny lyrics of some new band. ...read more.


Sitting in my day dream, I'm disturbed by a deep voice; I collect my stuff, as my dad waits for me. As he opens the door, a radiant, bright light with bursts of noise enters the hall. At first it startles me, but I gradually become used to it. The rain has added to the fresh smell of the grass and flowers, creating a scent I wish I could bottle for perfume. Unfortunately, the smell starts to fade, as my sense of smell seeks clean air for breath. As I step onto the hard ground, I think of all the soft mud and grass that's buried underneath, and how they miss this wonderful experience everyday. Flowers seem to be racing each other to the sky, fighting for the sun's rays that can bounce off their surreal colour, helping them to be noticed above the rest. As I make my way to the car, I notice the ladybirds, adding their own colourful effect onto pavements, grass and flowers, ants collecting food for their colony, marching in two by two, whilst friendly cats stretch amongst the scratchy grass, making the most of the morning beauty. Although I know that this happens everyday, I've never really noticed how beautiful and mysterious it really is. ...read more.


I glance out the window and up to the sky above. Dark grey objects stop the stars from breaking free; stop the light from brightening the night. Roofs of houses seemed to have disappeared as they blend in with the night sky, whilst flower heads seem to close up, protecting themselves from the night, sleeping till the morn. Workers arrive home, knackered from the day, dreading tomorrow. They seem to be the only living creatures that enjoy the night. Settling down for the evening, the usual programmes take over from the light entertainment that amuses children and housewives.. Soon, adults seem hypnotised by the teenage pregnancies, affairs and weddings that seem a natural occurrence in 'Eastenders' and 'Coronation Street,' whilst children softly snore in other rooms, dreaming of the day's events, occasionally turning. I sluggishly walk into my room and slump on my bed. I can faintly hear the vibrating sound of the crickets as they wake to jump freely in the night. Owls start awakening, looking for helpless mice for dinner, occasionally 'hooting' to their fellow owls. I think of the day's events, and how morn seemed so long ago. It will soon be ten 'o' clock, and the low hum of traffic can be heard again, faint breathing coming from the next room, birds slowly, one by one, stop tweeting, and in the silence, I slowly drift to sleep. ...read more.

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