Carpe Noche

I don’t do days. I used to be a sun worshipper, but three experiences taught me the error of my ways. When I was fifteen I spent two weeks at a cottage on Pigeon Lake. Two of my buddies and I took a canoe into the middle of the lake and engaged in an activity called power burning. A canoe floating the a lake acts like parabolic magnifying glass. We lay for hours until we turned the right shade of boiled lobster. We wound up suffering from dehydrated delusions for a day and a half and we peeled for weeks. I never tanned again. I didn’t need to.

Four years later I jumped on the cycling craze. It wasn’t a means of transportation as much as an obsession. I also loved the spandex. The only problem with spandex is that you think it looks better on you than it actually does. I was such a gearhead I thought I looked awesome. Then I came crashing back to reality. Literally. One bright bright summer evening I cycled home from work along a wooded street on the outskirts of town. I headed west, straight into the setting sun. I never saw the buck. I’m not sure he saw me either. All I remember was his cry as I tried to ride up his antlers. After a dazed minute or so, the buck and I stared at each other. I’m not sure if I imagined it or not, but I think it laughed at me when it saw me in spandex.

I finally decided to reject all things bright and beautiful the winter of my twenty-forth year. If you’ve never experienced snow blindness, let me begin by declaring that it does exist. But instead of everything going dark, snow blindness is like being hit with a wall of pure, unblemished light. Though I couldn’t see them, the screams of the skiers around me confirmed my conviction that it’s not the sort of thing you want to experience at 12,000 feet racing down a black diamond run. I can’t say with certainty what happened before wrapping myself around a pine tree. I vaguely remember being hit by a ski pole prior to using a snowboarder as a ski jump.

It was during the following month long stay in the hospital that I reversed my days and nights. It wasn’t as difficult a transition as you might think. Nighttime held an exciting new world. I discovered thousands of other lunar connoisseurs. As it turns out, many activities are even better without the annoyance of light pollution. Most sporting events are held at night. Nightclubs are a hub of urban life.

You may adhere to the old adage carpe diem. Seize the day. I ask, what has the day ever done to deserve such reverence? Nothing! I scoff at the narrow mindedness of solar oppressors. I say carpe noche. Seize the night. Break free from great yellow menace in the sky. Give the sun the moon.

Thank-you.

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About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
This entry was posted in day, fiction, flash fiction, humor, humour, moon, night, short fiction, short story, story, storypraxis, sun and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Carpe Noche

  1. Janet says:

    I double-checked to make sure it was fiction. 🙂 Enjoyed each adventure but esp. the ‘spandex bit’.

    Thank-you for continuing to share your talent and humor with the world!

    Do you have a book?

    • vanyieck says:

      I appreciate your comment, thank-you. In answer to your question, I’ve written two novels, but haven’t published either. A publisher has expressed interest in one of them, but I’ve been hesitant. I want to make sure it’s done well, if done at all.

  2. I loved this character, Vanyieck. Very believable, very real.

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