Insomnia part XI

A Chapter by M.Kilani

Another scene of a man who suffers insomnia

Typewriter, cigarettes and silence, no coffee on this night, he fears to stay awake, warm sadness fills him, he enjoys that warmth, as he endlessly strikes steel letters in anger and fear.

"Hello!" he whispers, "hello... is there anybody in there?" terrified he is not that someone would answer, he's afraid no one will, "talk to me" in a sad voice he speaks, "where are you... Hello."

He walks towards the broken radio, plugs it in, it has been there for months, on the ground broken... nothing, not even a static sound, not even a red light.

He sits to a corner after he grabs his black coat, takes a pack from the inside pocket, grabs his lighter while looking into his overpriced watch counting seconds, waiting for something to happen, 3:23 is the time, "that will give me 10 minutes to smoke" he says to himself, lights a cigarette and stares at his lighter, waiting as the hand of the clock echos louder... "hello" he screams, "talk to me! Damn it!" he yells, "say something, anything" he throws the lighter so hard, it hits the drawer next to his bed, where he keeps his gun, "tick tock.. tick tock" he whispers, waiting for someone to finish that crazy line... nothing...

As he blows smoke into the thin air shapes started to form, guitar, pen, car and a door... he breathes in more smoke and blows it into the air; faces... faces of his friends, the women he loved and his own face... it was like a mirror same impression of sadness... then a gun.

"Hello" he screams louder "come out and play" he starts to swing back and forth on the cold ground, blows another amount of smoke in the air... gun, gun, gun, bottle of whiskey and typewriter.

"Don't leave me alone, where are you?" he stands up looks for his lighter, finds it and open the dower, take a look on the gun then walk toward the light-switch, turns off the light, open his lighter's led, crocks the while and watches the flame blow more smoke in the air, as he goes back to the corner to turn off his cigarette in palm, looks at the watch; "3:33am ... nothing yet" he whispers spots a bottle of whiskey across the room, walks towards it and grabs it, pours some over the burn he caused himself... chugs the whiskey down his throat and awaits...

The echo of the clock hands gets louder as his heartbeat goes faster... covers himself with his coat, lights another cigarette... "how much would this lighter go on with what's left of its fuel?" he asks... waiting for an answer... 3:48am... no answer.

4:00am he finishes half a bottle of whiskey and walks to his disk types down "What you do makes a difference. We should never simply write ourselves off and see ourselves as the victim of various forces. It's always our decision who we are."

He lights another cigarette types again "There's only one thing I know... life won't take me alive!" Walks to towards his bed grabs the gun and press it against his temple takes a deep breath from his cigarette spells ashes all over his bed... blows shapes in the air; her face, his face and a gun... "She said that every living creature on Earth dies alone" he crocks the gun and squeeze the trigger gently... all turns to black... until a music box with a ballerina dancer starts to make some music... 3:30am "I should really sleep."

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