Insomniac Thoughts

By Velington Afonso

A Hisss in the dark broke my sleep's pretense, I almost stopped crying, I almost forgot the loneliness

and let loose the anchors that were accompanying me to the pit down. I felt light and yet, cold.

Quickly, I jumped and sat up stilled and turned carefully. I tried very hard to see through my wet

heavy eyes. I saw a light reflect its glimmer from the source light of altar on me. It was a paper

cutter, out from its shell. It was clean and shining steel; like the moon was finally shining after

erasing murky storm and its luring clouds. If my eyes weren't sharp enough, I would have said it

smiled at me; like we were lost to each other and found but, it did not smile. However, it did say "I

am part of you and we should not be separated".    

And just before I could sink it all in, I heard a Pssst I turned. I saw nothing, it was darker than the

Tartarus in the corner of the room. But the voice came down from below, I was not sure if it was

meant to say things, yet it did. "I do not inflict pain, I can end your insomnia, and I can bring peace to

your heart and rest to your mind". It was the slice of bread that had cover fungus because the

rodent was smart enough to not take the bait or even not to have the conversation with it. Now, I

was wide awake. Neither, did my eyes well nor there was a clutter of thoughts on my right side of

the brain.  It was alluring.     

The slice was a big stage and the fugue was moving. I did not question the possibility of my vision,

human sight that could dive in the dark to focus on something so insignificant. I could see the

failures that were feasting on my sleep, the rejection that was swimming in my thoughts and

contaminating my peace, loneliness that was licking and poisoning my contentment.    

 "If you are considering them, consider me as well" - voiced another in the room. My eyes ran on

every inch of the wall, the floor and the study table. I found no one. “Look up” it said. A still ceiling

fan, it wasn’t really still, I could feel the breeze on my skin. I was cold but its touch was warm,

nourishing. It is quite beautiful from up here. I was not convinced so I was distracted by the silence.   

I heard the whisper that was not yet out. I felt the presence that tried to hide itself for quite a long

time. It was neither in the room nor was not a thing but a part of me. And, it was asking for its

freedom, no demanding for its freedom like it was the right that was denied. It wanted out. I could

feel it in my bones, in the dirt of my nails and pores of my skin. The more I screamed, the more the

other would mellowed down. I needed to breathe - I pushed open the balcony door and let the cold

wind wrap me. The crescent moon from the silver city was lighting the whole yard.  

I closed my eyes and let the other take its place. It pierced my skin right below my shoulders on the

back on either side; they were glorious. The wings. I turned to see if it was real - it was. My sight also

saw the paper cutter smiling, like it got its way. The bones were adding flesh of bread - the one that

was poisoned. The bread smiled. I knew what was coming. A blow of wind pushed me out of the

balcony in the air. I was flying. I smiled to myself and someone exactly like me; wearing my night

clothes was sleeping in the pool of blood in my yard.

By Velington Afonso