Three in the Morning

I like this piece. It is well-written, compelling, suspenseful. But I feel like it isn’t complete. It feels unresolved, unclear. The last few sentences try to do too much maybe, without actually providing answers. Why does the narrator grieve for this girl with whom he has no clear relation? And this whole thing is a curse?–that’s quite a thing to drop and leave hanging. Despite all this, I like the piece. Narrative confusion can be a very useful tool for creating intrigue and suspense, and I think Morgan does it well.

R. Morgan Stories

At three in the morning, there is a soft quiet whisper in the wind formed by the lost melodies of the night and the quiet sobs of the dawn. It is at this hour between the night and dawn that I open my eyes and wake up. The moon greets me, half of it covered in darkness. The smell of cut grass flows all over my skin. Dirt covers my cold cheeks and forehead. I push myself up, naked except for the occasional dead leaves that fall over my body. Each ones slides down onto my lap and then onto the grass. I’m alone in the darkness of the park. I stand up, my legs almost collapsing from my weight. It always happens. The wind takes my hand and leads me to the bark of the tree. Sometimes I wonder why it happens at three in the morning, always at…

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