The Insomniacs

The adventures of two children who found serenity in darkness.

1:26 AM.  It was early Summer morning, and, like usual, Owen stared at the ceiling for what seemed to be hours. The clock on the wall audibly ticked along, accompanied by the small red hands going in circles before his eyes. Each second was grueling, and painful. ‘I need to sleep NOW’  thought Owen, but Owen couldn’t sleep. He could never sleep. His mind was full of questions left unanswered. His mind was consumed by the dark that surrounded him. Whether Owen thought about what lurked in the dark, or what the dark actually was: he didn’t really understand. Owen never came to terms with his own brain, and he likely never would. He breathed in, perfectly timing his breath with the red clock on his wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. In. Out. In. Out. 

Owen rolled onto his right side towards his bedroom wall. He squinted his eyes shut and tried to sleep. “Now, sleep,” he whispered to himself. His mind simply would not shut off. Owen let out a deep sigh, and got up. “Adventure,” he whispered like a child, “I’m going to go on an adventure.” Owen quietly opened his bedroom door, careful not to awaken his little sister, who was just across the hallway, or his mom, who slept alone in her robe, or his dog, who with even the slightest creak in the floor boards could wake up the whole neighborhood with his retched barking. 

The boy slipped out of his front door, and trotted down the road in the dark. Street lights illuminated small ovals of ever shrinking light on the sidewalk. It was a warm night, but Owen noticed the small hairs standing up on his arms and on the back of his neck. He moved his hands over his upper arms, attempting to make the chill go away. “Go away, gooseybumps,” the boy whispered. He felt like every step he took echoed throughout the neighborhood, although in reality, his steps were so obscenely quiet, a mouse’s steps were boisterous compared to Owen's. Owen continued to trot down and out of his neighborhood. He looked around to see outlines of houses, and street lights that showed small parts of the street. What fascinated Owen the most, however, were the stars. He looked up in awe, fumbling over his own feet while doing so. Each star was bright. The moon appeared to be a giant white cookie in the sky, with craters of chocolate chips. Owen smiled, picked out the brightest star in the abyss of black, and said a small rhyme he had be taught when he was five: “I wish I may, I wish I might, the first star I see tonight, star so big, star so bright, I pray you’re not a plane in flight.” Owen closed his eyes and made a wish. He opened them and continued forward. 

Owen arrived at a small gas station in the middle of town. It rested about two miles from Owen’s house. He walked inside, and met eyes with the man behind the counter in a blue shirt. The man squinted and furrowed his brow. His mouth gaped open. As soon as the man realized that his mouth hit the floor, he snapped it shut, and quickly turned around. Owen walked to the back of the store, by the slushy machine, and looked to the flavors. There was a Cola flavor, and something called ‘Cheeky Cherry’, which made Owen smile. There was ‘Outrageous Orange’, and ‘Bodacious Blueberry.’ Owen licked his lips, and patted his pants pockets. He found a penny, a paperclip, and a piece of lint. Owen found it odd that pocket lint always appeared in his pocket. He never put it there, but like magic, it showed up when little sweaty hands were dug into his pockets to reveal a small amount of this magic fuzz.  The boy frowned and spun on his heels towards the middle of the store. Owen learned from a friend that if you look sick, or innocent enough, strangers will give into you and buy you food, or in Owen’s case, a slushy. Owen halted in the middle of the store, pouted his lips, and looked longingly towards the slushy machine. He whimpered like a small puppy and sighed loud enough that the cashier turned to stare at the boy again. The man turned back around, trying to ignore the boy. 

Owen gave up whining after five minutes had passed, and no one came to the boy’s rescue. He sighed, and walked to the counter, where the grump of a man behind the counter had his back turned to Owen and was angrily arranging the cigarettes. 

“Sir,” Owen questioned trying to get the man’s attention. The man turned around, raising one eyebrow skeptically. 

“Wassup, boy?” Spoke the man. He had dark grey, sunken eyes, and he sounded tired. The whites of his eyes were tinted red. Owen thought he must be allergic to something- possibly the cigarettes. The man looked to be anxious, as his hands were twiddling in each other in constant motion. 

“Might you have the time?” Owen rocked back and forth on his heels. 

“Uh,” droned the man, pulling up his sleeve to look at his watch. He squinted and tilted the watch to the right a tad, “it’s like, 3:00 or something. I don’t know,” the man tapped his watch, and shrugged to the red hands that failed to turn. He spun around back to the merchandise, but stopped, and slowly turned back towards the boy, now tilting his head to the side. “Why are you up so late, son? Where’s-” he paused, and after a second continued, “your mom?” 

Owen smiled and clasped his hands behind his back, continuing to rock back and forth oh his heels in his small shoes. “I couldn’t sleep, Sir. So I walked here. I wanted a slushy, but sadly, I have only a penny and some pocket lint.” His smile turned to a small frown, and the boy sighed deeply. 

“Okay,” spoke the man behind the counter, “if I buy you a slushy, will you go home? You’re really not suppose to be here.” 

“Yeah!” The boy’s mouth flipped and grinned, showing his teeth with a few gaps in his smile. Owen followed the man to the back of the store, where he handed Owen a large cup. 

“Have at it, boy. Bring it to the front when you’re done.”

Owen looked up the the machine. He placed the cup under the nozzle of the Cola flavor, and pulled the lever, filling about a fourth of the cup up with brown slush. He moved to the next flavor, ‘Bodacious Blueberry’, and filled his cup halfway full with blue slush. He did the same for the other two flavors, and placed a lid on top of his drink. He shoved a straw into the slush and walked to the front of the store. “I’m ready,” the boy chimed, and held his cup out towards the man in the blue. 

The man dug into his pockets, pulled out three crumpled, mangled dollars and shoved them into the register. “Great,” he said with concern in his voice, “you’ve got your slushy. Now go home, kid, and don’t come back unless... unless your mom is with you. Come to think of it, don’t even come back if she is with you.”  He inhaled sharply and turned back to the cigarettes. 

Owen smiled, and said, “Thanks Mister!” Owen turned, but quickly flipped around and dug into his pocket. He slapped the penny, covered in lint, onto the counter. “And here’s your penny!” He walked out the front door, a colorful slushy in his hands. He sucked on the straw and watched his shadow dance along the sidewalk. It was then that he noticed another shadow- a smaller shadow just to the left of his. Owen lifted his head to see the shape creating the shadow. The boy walked up to it, and leaned over. “Hello,” he spoke, cautiously.

“Hello,” a voice said in return. The figure stood, and met eyes with Owen. It was a small girl, with orange-red hair and bright blue eyes. She had a small smile upon her lips and held a green clover in her hand. Her smile twisted to a lopsided grin as she said, “I know you. You’re in Mrs. Langley’s class.”

“Yeah,” Owen said cheerfully, “and you’re in Mr. Bringston’s, right?”

The girl nodded. “I’m Lilah.” 

“I’m Owen!” Owen stuck out his hand towards the girl. She gave him a confused look, and slapped the boy’s hand. “Why are you up so late?” Owen questioned. 

“I dunno,” the girl shrugged, “I couldn’t sleep. 

“Hey, me either!” Owen’s smile grew wider. He took a sip of his slushy and watched Lilah’s smile fade. 

“Where did you get that?” She asked. 

“The guy inside gave it to me. He didn’t want me in there.” 

The girl stomped her feet to the pavement. “No fair! I want one!” 

Owen reluctantly handed over his slushy to the girl who gladly took the drink and took a big gulp of it. She handed it to Owen again and pointed to the road. 

“Want to go explore?” 

“Really?” Owen hesitated. 

“Why not,” the girl enthused. The two children headed towards the street in hopes of exploration.  

After some time, the two stopped under a large oak tree, with branches that spewed colors of green in every direction. 

“Lilah,” Owen said nervously, “what time is it? I have to be home soon.” 

“Uh,” Lilah said,  looking up to the sky. The haze of the sun was shown in the distance, “Probably like five or something?”

“FIVE?” yelled Owen, “Oh jeez! I have to get home! My mom will kill me!” 

Lilah nodded, “Okay. Can I meet you here tonight again at around midnight under this tree?”

“Sure, Lilah. I’ll see you later!” Owen waved and took off in a jog towards his house. 

It was about four in the afternoon. Owen had just awoken from a nap, and was excited to see Lilah again later that night. Thinking about the girl with the pretty shadow he met last night made Owen feel warm inside.  Owen grabbed a small backpack, and packed for the night. He placed a blue flashlight into the bag, a watch, a notebook, and a snack. He slung the backpack under his bed, and sat on his floor, waiting for night to fall. 

It was 11:40 PM on the dot when Owen decided to head out. He dug the backpack out from under his bed and draped it over his shoulders. He put his small shoes on his feet, crept out the front door, and ran to the tree where Lilah had left him the night before. 

Under the tree, a shadow sat in the grass with crossed legs. 

“I’m here, Lilah! I’m here,” said Owen, out of breath and panting from running. 

“You’re late,” Lilah said, standing. 

“Really,” Owen whispered, digging the watch out from his pack. “Oh darn, it’s 12:15. I’m so sorry.”

Lilah shrugged, “It’s whatever. Let’s go.”

Owen and Lilah walked for two hours. Owen got an idea. The boy flopped onto his back into the grass, Lilah following him. He pointed to the specks of stars in the sky. 

“See those stars right there?” His hand trailed in the shape of a pan, “That’s the Big Dipper,” he pointed backwards, “and that one over there is the Little Dipper.” Owen dropped his hand, and gave the girl a sideways glance. “When I was little, I thought it was called the Big Diaper.” Owen grinned and dug the flashlight out of his backpack. He shone the light on Lilah’s face. The girl squinted, her freckles folding towards her nose. “Do you know any constellations?” 

Lilah snatched the flashlight and shined it on Owen’s face. His brown hair fell into his eyes. Grey rims sparkled around his pupils. 

“Of course I do,” she pointed to the sky with fragile fingers. “That right there, is Orion. He has a bow, and those three stars are his belt. You see?” 

Owen nodded. “Yeah I see. That’s cool.”

“Yup.” The two fell silent. After some time, Lilah flicked the flashlight off and said, “You know, we should make a club.” 

“Okay,” Owen said, fishing out the notepad from his pack, “what should we name ourselves?”

Lilah squinted and put her hand up to her face. She tapped her chin with her index finger, and though. “Hmm,” she hummed, “what about the Insomniacs?” 

Owen scrunched up his nose. “What does that mean?”

“It means you can’t sleep.”

Owen smiled, “That’s perfect.,” he said, scrawling ‘The Insomniacs’ onto the note pad. 

“One last thing,” said Lilah, rolling over and reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a small clover, and handed it to Owen. “It’s my lucky clover. I want it for our club.” Owen smiled and placed the clover in the notepad. “Now it’s even more perfect.”

Months had past. Owen had seen the red haired girl many times now. It was a special night. He packed his bag with six dollars and the same notebook with ‘The Insomniacs’ scrawled on the cover. Owen met the girl by the tree: the same tree that had joined the two for almost five months now. Owen gave a small hug to the girl and whispered, “I have a surprise for you,” he, this time, led her to the gas station. He brought the girl inside. The children met eyes with the man behind the counter- the same man with the dark grey eyes and the blue shirt. The man’s eyes grew large, and he turned back to his work. 

“What are we doing here,” spoke Lilah. 

“I’m buying you a slushy. It’s your birthday, after all.” The two smiled and headed to the back of the store, where the same slushy machine sat with it’s same four flavors. Owen and Lilah grabbed a large cup. Owen let Lilah go first. 

“Wow,” she marveled up at the machine. The glow of the blue and red machine lit up half of Lilah’s face. Owen stood, staring at the girl who had become his best friend. Her red hair fell askew on her shoulders. Her eyes fixed upon the glow and swirling motion of the drinks inside. 

Owen sighed and dropped his gaze. When it was his turn, he filled up his cup, and went to the counter with the red haired girl. “Sir,” spoke Owen, “we’re ready. I have money this time.” 

The man didn’t turn around. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “just put six bucks on the counter.” 

“Okay,” he did as he was told, and carefully placed six dollars upon the counter. “Thanks, Mister!” The two children walked out of the store, a cup of color in one of their hands, and their fingers intertwined within each other’s in the other. “Happy birthday, Lilah,” whispered the boy, directing his gaze to the ever growing shadows on the side of the gas station. 

“You’re the best, Owen,” the girl smiled and sipped her drink. 

Owen ran home that night and flung himself into his bed. It was 4:31 in the morning and he needed to get to sleep. 

He awoke at noon. It was a Saturday. The sun shined bright, and birds sang songs outside of his window. The child ran down the stairs, where he met his mother, sorting though bills in her robe. She never seemed to take off her robe; she stayed in it almost every second of the day. She had lost her job recently and stayed home, doing nothing but watching Doctor Who all day. 

Owen watched his mother closely. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair faded from brown to having white strings laced into it. She sighed frequently, looking up to the lights on the ceiling and blinking rapidly. She spoke in monotone and never really came above an inside voice. Owen watched her grey, cracked, dry hands shuffle the bills, searching for something interesting. She removed an envelope from the pile and stretched it out in Owen’s direction. 

“Your father wrote you,” she said quietly. Water welled in her eyes, and she looked to the ceiling again, in what Owen presumed was her marveling at the popcorn kernels on the roof. 

“Neat,” Owen said, snatching the letter from his mother’s hands and ripping it open. He unfolded the poorly, crooked folding of the paper and silently read:

My Owen,

I have seen that you have grown up so fast. You’re getting taller by the day. I miss you very much. I’m the manager of a store now and I feel I will be making quite a living where I am at. I have watched you grow by the day,  and you’ve turned into a mighty fine boy. Very grown up, very polite. I wish I could go back to my childhood and be like you. Such an adventurer, you are. I must go, I hope all is well. Keep your grades up, and please, try to get some sleep. 

Father. 

Owen and Lilah met more and more.  They continued to meet every night for seven years in a row. Owen watched this little red haired girl grow up, and he was thrilled to confess that he had fallen for her. He had fallen for her sense of adventure, and intelligence, and the way her bright, blue eyes illuminated the night like a pair of stars incased in tired eyes. The darkness brought them together. They rejoiced in sleepless nights. To Owen, the lack of sleep didn’t matter. What mattered was that we was falling in love with a girl who happened to be his best friend. They sent each other notes and letters. They met when they could and the slept when they could. Both Owen and Lilah would much rather be in each other’s warm arms than in the arms of their warm bed, lonely bed. 

Owen rolled over. It was Summer again. He was 17 years old. He looked at the red clock that sat on his wall. It was 1:26 am. Perfect he thought, as he rolled out of bed, placing his phone in his pocket and his computer on it’s desk. He slipped on his shoes, and crept out the front door. He ran to the tree with silent footsteps where he met the girl at seven years ago. There stood the shadow of a girl, or rather, a young woman. She was taller now, and her hair was longer. 

“Hello, beautiful,” Owen said to the girl. 

“And hello to you too, handsome,” the girl turned around, pulled Owen into her arms, and met her lips to his, “I’m going to take you somewhere,” she whispered, taking Owen’s hand and leading him away from the tree. 

The two arrived at the gas station, hand in hand. 

“Why here?” Owen questioned. 

“Seven years ago today, we met here. ” She smiled, her long red hair resting on her shoulders. They both stood, hand in hand, watching their own shadows on the pavement. 

“I have a story to tell you.” Owen looked towards the girl with bright blue eyes. She nodded. “I made a wish one night. The night I met you, actually. I wished that I would make a new friend. Not only did I make a new friend, but a best friend; a girlfriend. And for that star that granted my wish, I am forever thankful that her shadow met mine in the dark one Summer night.” 

Lilah smiled, and pulled Owen into her arms. They stood in each other’s embrace  until Owen spoke. 

“I have one last thing to do,” he said, turning back to the gas station. He pulled open the door, and placed his hands on the counter, where the man in the blue shirt stood with his back turned to Owen. Owen leaned forward, trying to grasp the man’s attention, and whispered, “Do you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you,” the man spoke. 

“Really?”

“Yes. I know everything about you.” The man turned to face Owen. “Your name is Owen Kendall. You’re 17 years old, and you’ve been here a few times. I met you when you were born.”

“Dude, that’s kind of cree-” he was cut off by the man.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“No,” Owen shook his head and looked strictly puzzled. 

“You think that your dad left you. You think that you’ve never met him, but you have. That same man with the sunken grey eyes and the blue shirt has been watching you. He watched that little girl meet you outside, he watched you two fall in love, he watched you over your sleepless nights, he even bought you a slushy when you were just ten in hopes that you wouldn’t figure out who he was.”

“I don’t believe you,” Owen said, shaking his head slowly.  

“So, we’ve never formally met,” the man held his hand out to Owen, “I’m Patrick Rainer, and I’ve been around for longer than you thought.”

Owen placed his hand into Patrick’s, and looked into his eyes. “All I can say is... Thank you, Father. ”

Six years later, Owen stood in his tuxedo, and Lilah in her white dress. They smiled and said “I do” in turn. He passed the bride a small, ripped piece of notebook paper, accompanied by a green clover with the writing of a ten year old in marker. ‘The Insomniacs’. Patrick was sat next to Owen’s mother. They held hands for the first time in 23 years. Owen and Lilah had met each other every night for 13 years until their wedding day. Owen could finally sleep, and as could Lilah, because the person that filled their empty dreams was finally in their arms. The Insomniacs could sleep again. 

Author's Note

Not finished. Sorry.

Reviews

[Nix]

An enthralling read... Well constructed for the most part. The way you used dialogue was interesting. Well written.

[sonnetmoon]

So far so good. Could you please make the font bigger. Apart from that it was a joy to read. Keep on writing :)