Chuck has had insomnia lately... something I battle with on a regular basis (also known as being a nightowl). So, this week's challenge is to write a story about insomnia... this was fun!
enjoy!
It’s not easy being
a person who lives on just four hours of sleep a night. I haven’t been able to
sleep on any more than that for over twenty years – and no matter what the
doctors have tried, they can’t seem to pin point it.
But after going to a
neurologist, they think they’ll be able to help me have a full-night’s sleep.
So, tonight is my last sleepless night ever… well, I hope.
“Now, there’s no
promises that this will work. But it’s worth a try, okay?” the youngish doctor
smiled, “And after all these years of not being able to sleep, I’m sure we’ll
be able to pinpoint exactly why you’re not able to sleep through a new method
of going back through into your primitive brain; which through my research
holds your oldest memories from anything that might be holding you back.”
“Doc, I’m willing to
try anything to get some sleep.” I sigh, “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep,
it’s just that I think I’m missing out on some good health benefits from a good
night’s sleep.”
He smiled, “And you
are.” He rose from his desk, “Now, come on, we’re ready if you are.”
Artificial sleep isn’t
the same as real sleep. But they had to put me under Twilight; this is where
you’re not completely under, but can be woken easily and you recover better and
faster than you would if they put you under completely – besides, they needed
my brain to be working of its own accord and not off in la-la land.
I woke in recovery
in restraints, “What the hell?”
A cop turned, “Shut
up.”
“I don’t understand.”
I said, “I just woke from a brain operation. I need to know the results. Can
they fix my insomnia?”
The cop ignored me.
Another doctor
approached my cubical, looked at me, referred to his file and turned to another
cop, whispering in his ear, then turned back to me, “Do you remember anything
from when you went under Twilight?”
“No. I went to
sleep, and woke up in these things.” I looked at the restraints, “I don’t
understand why I’m under guard for.”
The doctor nodded
curtly, “Okay. Your neurosurgeon is dead.”
“What?”
“You killed him.”
“I was asleep.”
“No… you weren’t.”
he said pulling up a metal stool and sitting on it, “You were put under
Twilight. But you didn’t stay there. You woke up and became another person… you…”
he looked down for a moment before continuing, “You…” his eyes were filled with
tears as he tried to talk, but couldn’t.
The policeman
touched his shoulder, “I’ll do it.” He whispered, “It’s okay.”
“He stood no chance.”
He handed the folder to the cop as he rose and left the room.
The cop turned and
looked at me as he dumped the folder onto the table at the end of my bed, “You
seriously have no idea what you did?”
“No… like I said, I
was sleeping.” I glanced at the other cop who had his back to me, but his head
was down, looking at his shoes. My eyes moved back to the first cop at the foot
of the bed.
“Okay.” He sighed, “You
don’t sleep because when you do, you become another person.”
“We all do.” I said,
“In our dreams… but I don’t dream because I don’t get that far into my sleep
cycle; that’s what we were trying to fix.”
He nodded, “I
understand this. But when they were looking at your primitive brain to find out
what was holding you back, they unintentionally let somebody out.”
My gut turned cool, “What?”
He looked over at me
and took a step back, “Um… what time is it?” he glanced down to his watch and
started to sweat as he grabbed the folder and moved toward the door, gesturing
to the guard next to me, “It’s time to leave.”
“We were told to
guard him.” He turned and looked at me, then back away, “What the…!”
As the door slammed
shut, I looked up at the clock above it to find it said 4:45am – just before
sunrise. I was so damned tired. It was time for me to sleep. My breathing
slowed down and I thankfully felt as though I was going to get some rest; but I
wondered why they were so scared of me when I was just tired.
Sirens wailed as I
ran along the river’s edge in the darkness of the night, as the sun’s last
glimmer vanished below the horizon. The delicious coppery taste of blood lined
my mouth and stained my hands, darkening my fingernails to an almost blackened
state.
But I felt as though
I was so filled with energy – with go-go juice – that I couldn’t be stopped,
even if I wanted to!
The reflection of a
shop window freaked me out and I stopped and looked at it…
“No… that can’t be
me.” I stared into a mirror which was part of a display inside and found a
distorted, tortured scarlet face staring back. The clothes I had taken such
pride in choosing the day before – expensive clothes – were shredded and
hanging from my body, soaked in blood, “Oh my god… what did they do to me?”
“Who?” a voice asked
behind me.
I turned and found
three cops with rifles leveled at me, “What happened?” turning back to the
mirror, I watched tears leave clean streaks down my face as it – and my whole
body – changed into the form I was so accustomed to, “Who did they let out?” but
I knew who as I spoke… and didn’t want to know anymore, “Kill me. Please.”
“No.” a man said to
my right, with a slight German accent, “You are somebody of interest to us. We
wanted to bring you in alive.”
“You know who I am?”
“Of course we do, Dr
Jekyll. It’s Mr Hyde everyone keeps on meeting on a rather unscheduled basis.” The
man said as he walked from behind the wall of armed police.
“And who the hell
are you?”
“I’m Abraham Van
Helsing.” He smiled, “I may be old, but I’ve been searching for you for a very
long time.”
“How are you still
here?”
He smiled as he
approached me, “That, my friend, is a very long story. One I will share with
you on the way to our final destination.”
