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.



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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