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Insomnia

The below story is fictional and has not been modified in any way through the editorial process. Any similarities with persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

She turned the lights off and was immediately surrounded by the most caressing darkness. She could not remember the last time she went to bed and actually felt the sheets warming up her body, or the feel of her clothes, embracing her body with their soft threads.

The girl laid there for about ten minutes just looking around. She had always been taken in by the view of her room at night. The only light that came in was that from the moon that sneaked its way through a little opening between them and the wall.

Her eyes already adjusted to darkness began to make out forms in the shadows she saw, some were horrific images that she quickly looked away from and then back to notice how silly she was for being startled by her own imagination, others were beautiful and others took her back to her past experiences leaving her powerless to resist them.

Something was keeping her away that night, it was not the sounds on the street or thoughts of work and other stressful situations, no, that night was different; on that particular night, her brain kept replaying a thought over and over in her head.

It is amazing how certain events of the day imprint themselves in your mind, how you can watch a scary movie in the morning and get a promotion at work that very same day and at the end of it, when the night embraces you with her calm; you will be thankful for the promotion, but you will also make sure you get safely under your "danger-proof" blankets. The same goes for happy memories, and for sad ones.

As she was trying to focus on sleeping, she kept smiling at her memories and also trying to scare them away. She knew that she was going to be up for a long time, having suffered from insomnia ever since that incident.

At first she spent her nights crying, then she was angry and now she missed those days. She could not believe she felt so strongly towards someone. Yes, she was in love, but this kind of love was different. She felt bliss and fear at the same time. No one seemed to be able to give her any advice or help her in any way, except one person, specifically, one man.

She remembered kisses, promises and dates, but she could not make out why were they not together, she knew she cared for him and he had shown he cared for her as well. Perhaps they were both afraid, perhaps it was not their time, perhaps the cosmos did not want them to be together, or perhaps they were too scared to make things work. Him by pride and her by fear of being left alone.

She knew other men could make her happy, but none could make her feel that way. Even if she could not find the proper word that thoroughly described her feelings, there was something magical about the way he looked at her, about how he kissed her, about how she felt when they were together, she knew it, but she could not bring herself to admit it. The sole intention of sharing one's feelings is a true recipe for disaster; it's giving people a dagger and hoping they never use it, while being wary to turn your back at them.

Time passing and memories flashing we take a trip to the room of the man she is thinking about, a man who can't sleep either. Someone who finds himself thinking the exact same things that keep her awake, the only problem is, he also regrets mistakes and omissions, and plays a game of riddles in his mind, trying to solve problems that are not there, to bring back a past that only comes as a flashback.

"Maybe we should talk", they both think, but the phone never rings, hypothetical scenarios rush through their minds but they are playing a game of chess while blindfolded and each of them think it's the other player's move.

They close their eyes and feel their hearts pumping and, as they fall asleep, remain ignorant of the fact that those thoughts are fueled not by their subconscious, but by the half of the other's heart that now beats with their own, hoping that one day they'll get wise and realize it, but the heart speaks a different language, and humans never listen to thumps.

Sleep takes them away to a different land where they can rest from the day's activities; she is walking in the park holding his hand. He is sitting down looking at the stars as he embraces her.

The moon walks away and the sun rises, they both wake up, refreshed, thinking they had a good night sleep because they went to bed early and those thoughts were just caused by extreme exhaustion. They ignore them for the rest of the day as they attend their routines.

Their hearts, however, look at them as they go though the motions of yet another day, they smile as an idea forms inside of them: "We'll talk again tonight, my friend, I pray this time you'll listen".

Author - Armando Garcia

Armando Garcia is a writer and apprentice novelist. He often likes to play video-games when he can break the symbiosis between him and his computer, he also enjoys writing short stories as warm-up and still mourns the loss of his first novel draft to a virus he swore revenge against.