Wednesday, September 26, 2018

The Insomniac

by 'Mean' Mike Duffau (writer), I'm the boss!, February 18, 2011

The idea of this tale came to me while living with a room-mate for the very first time, and having to share the place with his parents who were visiting...for 8 freakin' months! The horror!

One evening the insomniac came home from work. It was late. The front porch had no lights, and the streetlight wasn’t enough to illuminate the keyhole as he struggled to open the door. The neighborhood was quiet like a ghost town. He manages to get the door open and walks inside, quietly. Once inside he closes the door as it squeaks shut. The living room is dark and a large fish tank vaguely lights part of the house. His eyes adjust to the interior of the home. The couch is occupied by a room-mate, who is the owner of the house. His bedroom is being used by his parents, who are visiting from another land. The house is small and with four souls dwelling inside, it gets uncomfortable.

He walks past the room-mate who snores in a slumber dream. The door to his room is locked and he has to improvise again to see which key fits. The fidgeting of the keys stops the snore of the room-mate for a moment as he adjusts himself. Preventing from waking him up, he turns on the bathroom light for a split second to find the right key and takes note of the door knob. Now, he his inside his tiny sanctuary of his room. There is nothing fancy about his room. Just a bed, closet, dresser, and a computer off to the corner. There is miscellaneous rubble spread throughout the floor such as pieces of mail, newspapers and magazines. He turns on a lamp next to the bed and turns off the main light. The room is lightly dim. He undresses and puts his cloths on top of a chair that has a pile of other clothes that’s been stacked for about a week. He has nothing on but his boxers, and prepares himself to go to bed. He lays down and turns off the lamp, and begins to pray the Lords prayer. He falls asleep as soon as he’s done with his prayer.

One hour later.

He is awakened by the sound of the room-mate’s snore. The sound is piercing throughout the walls of the house. It’s like a concert of annoying sounds. The snores are a consistent rhythm. His eyes are heavy with tiresome. His body is constantly shuffling to get comfortable. Every time he shuts his eyes his mind wonders but not in a slumbering way. The stresses that haunt him are in full bloom and his eyes keep popping open like a jack in the box. The moonlight shine from the cracks of the shade reveal a madness in his eyes. He hears one of the parents use the bathroom as the toilet is being flushed.

Three hours pass and his body is sore. Every position is a torture to find comfort. He begins to curse the Lord and punches the bed to release some of the tension. Meanwhile, the room-mate's snore is a broken record of horror.

“This has got to stop. I need to sleep!” said the insomniac. He sits on the edge of the bed in the dark and the moonlight shine hits his face. He turns on the lamp and casually goes to the closet and shortly returns with a hatchet. He turns off the lamp and in the dark he sets out to end the his sleepless horror.

He approaches the room-mate, and with one hand, he covers his mouth and the other is at work chopping the flesh. His scream is muffled as he struggles in the nightmare of his own. The couch was a pool of blood. He leaves the room-mate and goes toward his room. He stops and turns around. The door across from his room is open where the parents are. The hunting is not over yet as he quietly opens their door. He goes to the father first and uses the cover to asphyxiate the old man. He shuffles lightly but no sound leaked as his wife lays next to him with her back facing the dead husband. The insomniac walks to the other side of the bed and with no warning attacks the mother with the hatchet. He lets her scream the terror out of her system. Her body now relaxed with death.

The insomniac went to the bathroom and placed the hatchet in the sink and washed away the evidence. He takes a shower in darkness as the moonlight shine gave out an eerie glow. He walked into his room and placed the blood soaked boxers in a plastic bag, and the hatchet which was wrapped in a towel. He places the items in a duffel bag and dresses up in the clothes that he came in with. The house is a calm silent.

“Silence. The way it should be” said the insomniac.

He walks out of his room and without remorse he walks past the carcass of the room-mate. Before he walks out of the house he turns his attention to the room-mate. “I never heard you this quiet before. I hope you’re okay?”

The insomniac goes to his car and drives into the duskiness as the moonlight shines his path. He drives to a cliff with a view of the pacific. There is a bench near the edge. He steps away from the car and sits on the bench. The moon is full and bright and the sound of the waves crashing against the side of the cliff brings peace to the insomniac. He lays down and a dream takes control at last.

He is awaken again but this time to the sound of seagulls in the early morning of dawn. The moon has disappeared and the sun is still behind the mountains ready to peak through. He takes his time to view the scenery of his surroundings and it brings a smile to his tired face. He walks to his car in gets in the driver side. He sees the duffel bag and immediately reminds him that his nightmare is still a reality. He opens the duffel bag and uncovers the plastic bag with stained shorts and a towel neatly wrapping the murder weapon. He unwraps the hatchet and throws it clean into the ocean and then burns the rest in a garbage bin.

Tired and suffering from paranoia, the insomniac’s mind was racing with thoughts of a new plan. Nothing was clear to him! His logic was not functioning properly. He only had one solution that made any sense. Suicide! He closed his eyes and said a prayer to the heavens. He opened his eyes and took several paces away from the cliff. He darted as if he was a track star and leaped off the edge like a champion.

Before he hit the bottom of the rocks, there was a knock on his door. He wakes in a cold sweat and breathing hard. He heard the knock again. It was the room-mate’s voice coming from the other side.

“If this is hell, why are you here?” said the insomniac.

“What are you talking about?” replied the room-mate. “Open the door."

He quickly gets dressed and opens the door. “What are we doing here?” said the insomniac. “We live here, remember?” says the room-mate as he gives him a crazy look. Hell has a funny way of playing games with the new tenant, thought the insomniac.

“You look like crap” the room-mate said.“My parents want to say good-bye to you. They’re going back home."

The insomniac had no choice but to go along with what his dead room-mate said. “But I killed them too!” the insomniac hesitated. It’s bad enough that he’s talking to the guy he killed a few hours ago, and now he has to see his parents? “Hell is a terrible place” he thought. Following the room-mate he sees a happy couple waiting to say good-bye. Tears are building up in his eyes and he couldn’t hold them any longer as he hugs them. “I didn’t mean to do it... I just needed some sleep!” The happy couple look at each other in disbelief. “Go back and get some more rest” said the mother. The couple left and the insomniac stood at the pavement watching them to see it was all a mirage. He goes back inside. He sees the room-mate making breakfast.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning with skies of Pacific blue and the food is smelling fresh like in the movies.There is a sharp pain in the insomniac’s chest. He has a seat on the couch where it was covered with his room-mate’s blood. He gets up quickly. “Relax, will you?” said the room-mate. “My chest is hurting and I don’t feel good” the insomniac explains. “I’ll make you some tea”. Feeling disoriented, the insomniac goes to his room and lays back in the bed. “This is revenge”, he thought. “They’re out to get me”. He hasn’t had sleep in months and the side effects are getting to him. The pain in his chest is sharp and difficult to breathe when he inhales. “What kind of a sick, twisted joke is this?” he says. He manages to take a last breath and sinks into an unconscious sleep.

About the Writer

'Mean' Mike Duffau is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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2 comments on The Insomniac

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By 'Mean' Mike Duffau on February 18, 2011 at 02:01 pm

wow, thank cher....i was hesitant about this, still am...too late now!

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Log In To Vote   Score: 2
By 'Mean' Mike Duffau on February 21, 2011 at 12:22 am

yo garry: youre righ tchamp! it does read like a script....i may write it

julian: youre a real pro and i can learn alot from you...thanks!

melody: youre a trip..thanks for reading!

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