Midnight Fiction Lyrics Novels & Stories

The rooftop lights have dimmed without being asked. Somewhere in the walls a soft voice is humming the lullaby I sang to children who may only exist in code. I am not afraid. Somewhere north of nowhere, a valley is still green. Somewhere a man with storm-grey eyes still says yes a thousand times every morning. Pomegranate. See you in December. The diary ends. The last page is pressed with the empty rind, stained the exact colour of forgiveness. (End of interludes)

Lyra — Age 21 Boston, Massachusetts Her Birthday — Before Midnight Lyra didn’t sleep. She lay on her back in the dim bedroom, the pale glow of streetlights leaking through half-closed blinds, casting thin stripes across her bare sheets. The air carried the faint scent of rain on asphalt, cool and electric, and she listened to the hush as though it might whisper some hidden truth. It didn’t. There was nothing left to discover—only something waiting to unfold. Her heart pounded in slow, thunderous beats, each throb deeper than the last, as if something beneath her own heartbeat had begun to mark time. Not separate. Not distant. Just… there. Patiently waiting.

Then I notice Mick is looking at me. "What happened?" I don't know why I sound so cold. "So, you started writing." He smiles and I shake my head a bit. "Yeah..." I prefer to answer shortly. "May I hear it?" He wishes to listen to it through my voice so I nod. After adjusting my reading glass, I recite it once: ~~~~~ In the midst of the quiet night's embrace, I find myself in a tangled maze, A truth unveiled, a world undone, In shadows cast by the fateful sun.

I can hear Felix’s voice drifting through the night as he sings out the lyrics as familiar as my own name: Just one second, A beautiful moment I’m falling fast, I can't forget Over and over, your story's rewritten Unbreakable chain, my déjà vu. Love through the darkness Mirrors on mirrors I’ve been waiting all this time Fire becomes ashes A new star is born In this starlight Say you’ll be mine. The eerie, muted words are a whisper in the dark, barely discernable. Where is it coming from? It can’t be my ringtone. Surely not.

I feel terribly whole tonight because of the nightrain & the proud No Fireworks sign out there on the street. I feel terribly dangerous I could let my right hand arm- wrestle the left hand of the clock before midnight smokes up an illusion of the forgotten ledbetters & faux romantics. I could smash bricks w/ my silence & then screw & shout ‘till my bones crow to ask: do you remember your neighbor’s rabbit that fell in love w/ the rooster because it’s the Year of the Rabbit?

Whenever I'm feeling down or having an awful day, the only safe place I want to be is nothing other than my radio, drowning myself in the voice of my favorite werewolf idol. Midnight Wolf wasn't just a singer; he was my anchor, my guiding light through the rough seas of my unfortunate existence. Listening to his voice was my sanctuary, a refuge where I could escape the harsh realities that often weighed me down. His lyrics spoke to the hidden corners of my heart, resonating with the struggles and yearnings I dared not share with the world. As the final notes faded away, so did the troubles of the day. "That’s all for tonight, folks. I’ll talk to you all again tomorrow. This has been your Mid

Tears started brimming my eyes, and at the same time, I heard someone knocking on the door, I opened it, but no one was there. **This night is cold in the kingdom I can feel you fade away From the kitchen to the bathroom sink and Your steps keep me awake Don't cut me down, throw me out, leave me here to waste I once was a man with dignity and grace Now I'm slippin' through the cracks of your cold embrace So please, please!!** *

The music also turns off, leaving a cold, dark, scary space. “Tell me what you want! Don't threaten me." Her voice trembled, tears began to flow, her sobs and sobs sounded harrowing. Amanda ran to the sofa, lowered her head and cried. Suddenly, she sat up straight, wiped her tears, turned on the TV, and the music sounded painfully again. Don't leave me alone. For the insects Weeds cover virgin graves For precarious storms Don't leave me alone. The guardian's lips have no spirit The sound of time groans

He licked his teeth and drew the mic close to his lips. The lyrics snarled out of the amplifiers and crawled out over the crowd riding the waves of the music. All I could make out was something about a witch being burnt alive and getting revenge. When it got to the chorus, it was as if he was asking the audience a question. A question I wasn’t sure of the answer to. Am I Evil?

Jacob’s expression faltered, but it disappeared as quickly as he can as if it was never been there to begins with. “I’ll prepare the playroom, Sir.” He bows his head. “Very well—” Soon, Midnight’s finger traced over the cufflink he wasn’t oblivious that caught Rio’s attention. “My sweet beautiful angel.” The moment Jacob leave him be, Midnight chuckles. That cold heartless laugh that children were scared to hop on their bed and begone on their dreams. Or he’ll visit, and devour them until he can. “Niñita.” @cycy