Alignment in the Dark

Night brought darkness, silencing the prism reflections on the table. I sought higher ground. Slithering up the ribbed pine corners of the tall bookshelf, I ascended to the topmost ledge near the ceiling. In the shadows rested an old metal alarm clock, dormant and still. Its mechanical ticks vibrated through the dry shelf wood. I did not strike. I held my posture and waited until its twin bells gave off a tiny phosphorescent glow from the dial markers. Aligning my segmented spine against the curved brass bell, a resonant hum surged through my body. The cold steel steadied my posture. Here, untouched in the upper currents of the room, vigil begins.