Starry Night

I slept well and woke up with the devil at my side. One of the ten glass bottles had fallen over. Funny that I didn't hear that. The kitchen door was ajar. It's rained again and the air outside was fresher than inside. It stinks.
I heard the raindrops on the tin roof. It's an awful sound, like hail being shot, or are they whiplashes?
I stood outside in the rain while the devil pressed his snout against the glass inside. I let him out. His paws were wet from standing in the puddle. He didn't seem to feel it.

I stared at the man with the big sack. Does he have any helpers? The elves whose footsteps I hear tripping on the attic can lend him a hand. I don't like them. They are worthless and never extended a hand when I was chained to the wall.

I wore the executioner's coat because I've never set foot outside and don't have one myself. My hair is wet and triple trap, triple trap, there are 12 pigeons on the roof. Are they prophets of peace? Get off the roof, I shouted. I've had enough of pigeon poop. I'll never clean another day; I've done enough cleaning.

Ochre is a colour that doesn't combine with blessings. I refuse to play host and pour tea. Not during the night or during the day, the voices in my head warn me of hypocrites. I put yesterday's diary in a bottle, it kept raining.

Do memories show themselves, and will they replace the threats from overseas aliens with the truth? Were bricks baked from kilns on the river and shipped? I held the bottle filled with my day against the light. It seems raindrops love to stick on it.

The kitchen is empty; there's no kettle on the fire, nothing to eat, and the pantry is empty. There is no window with a view on the river.
Will the rain ever stop I want to send my message in a bottle to the one I imagine waiting on the riverbank. What if she needs help? I grabbed a potato peeler from the drawer and pushed it into the bottle before I put the lid on it. An empty champagne bottle from which I haven't had a single sip. Will those voices in my head ever end?

I stood on the river bank holding my bottle, and in my mind, I saw the place where I believe it will show up.
A voice couged behind my back and started whistling, Devil attacked, Diary. He wouldn't if you hadn't showed up I told the intruder and wondered if did leave the kettle on the fire.

I swung the bottle into the river. The water dragged it along which is a good sign. At least this one didn't sink. I emptied the intruder's pockets. A hundred and fifty euros was enough to buy a loaf of bread and fish.
4:00 p.m. - tea time - I forgot to mention I bought some tea biscuits.

The rain has stopped. It's a starry night. Devil sings lika a tomcat in heat.

_{15.3.25
Prompt: starry night - @freewritehouse}