timor mortis: it's in the wee hours

by peter greene

illustrations by rhoda penmarq

timor mortis: it's in the wee hours it's in the wee hours that you can see the nothing, that far too small door that we all have to go through ; also,  that's when my nanomechanical tiny toy swordsmen defeated the ants! Charged by the sunlight, they'd guarded my bed, eyes glowing yellow pink amethyst blue in the darkness, claymores and lead longswords held ready. Then! When the brutes advanced , they swung  into action,  chopping some   heads and shearing  many limbs; the  fearful clatter       as one of them was dragged  away       into the hive was echoed by  shouts  of woe  and  i                  awoke ,    turned  on   the lamp -too   late , their              charge  had   gone  and  they stood  silent,   metal          hair   long  and proud  in  Eastern              braid  and    Northern                                             ragtail -all             dull  with  fighting , their                    grey toy surfaces   and              blunt                     their great and tiny swords - one            missing, but O!                            last  night                                      they  slew  a  horde. the             corpses                     in the morning                                       of course                                                had been              dragged away by                            ant - crews                          and    by                                  ghoulish   little  beasts of prey -                      survivors   eaten  ,one  way  or the other - only                                nicks  scratches  and  a  certain                               look    in    blank metal  eyes - only  those           remain                                                     those,  and a couple of                                                                                         lone  legs. ©Peter A. Greene 2011.