InsomniaMature

So i've got to think about a paragraph for a story for my creative writing this year in english. Its gotta be impressive. But i'm not sure if its good enough. Maybe someone could give me a few suggestions. This isn't a definate of what I'll submit, I could submit something completely different. But its an idea. Just one of many.



I wrote it last night when I (coincidentally) couldn't sleep.

Insomniac. Thats what the Doctors call me. They don't think it can be put down to any other problem, like maybe my beds too hard or maybe theres something haunting my room or my house and it's preventing me from sleep. But no. It can't be any of  that, it's obviously too far fetched and I, I have a problem that is easily solved by  sleeping pills. The Doctors hand them out like candy here. Idiots. 

I can hear my mother snoring in the room next to mine, hopefully dreaming that her misfit children will someday lead a life that she'll approve of. Right now, though, neither of us look likely to fulfill that for her. The poor old fool.

With children like my brother and I, her dreams will never come true.

What with me sitting in bed at night, mind whirring, constantly energized but hoping to fall asleep at any second even though the fact of it happening is actually very minimal, so instead I write far-fetched stories using the light of my out-of-date fairy lights give me.

And then there is my brother, Farro, who sometimes seems imaginary due to how little we actually see him. He's usually out with his friends, or he's at work. He's with his friends right now, drinking probably. 

Click. 

Oh, wait. What's that? 

I think my brother just got home. Looking at my phone, and getting blinded by it's light on the way, I see that it's 3.20am. Yeah, that's the average time for him to get home.

I wonder if he closed the door. I didn't hear it click shut. He always forgets, but thats probably because he's drunk. 

Crash. Clink, clink, clink. 

Shit. He just walked into his bedroom door, I hope mum doesn't... 

"Uurrgh." Shit. Mum's awake. Oh, not again. Quick, Farro, get in bed! Quick, before Mum realizes you only just got home. Quick, before she realizes you are drunk again. She will not be happy with you interrupting her perfect nights rest.

I slip out of my warm bed and slowly start walking towards my door. Peeking through the crack between the door and the door frame. I watch the moon lit scene, seeing Farro still trying to pick up all the bottles he dropped when he walked into his door, and seeing mum standing infront of him. By her body language, I knew she was not in the least bit happy.

If you hadn't seen this before you wouldn't be able to guess what would happen, but seeing as I've seen this countless times before, I knew it all. My mother would start off talking, ending in yelling. My brother would give up on trying to pick up his bottles, swear a little bit then try to get into his room again. If it doesn't go with that format, something is seriously weird. As you can tell this happens quite often.

"What were you doing out so late? Did you drive?! Are you drunk? You didn't drive drunk did you?! Look at me! ARE YOU STONED?! Answer me, boy!" Mum bombarded Farro with questions. He probably didn't even know she was standing there until she started talking. 

"Fuck. Talk tomorrow. Tired. Night. Sleep is needed." He grumbled, twisting the door knob and opening the door to his safe haven. He lazily kicked the bottles into his room before slumping into his room and nudging the door shut. 

"Fine." Mum spat and turned towards me to go back to her room. "Oi!" Shit. She saw me. I forgot these fairy lights were on. Damn give away. "Why aren't YOU in bed?! You didn't just sneak in too, did you?! Are you ALSO drunk?!?" 

"No, mum. I just can't sleep, remember what the doctor said?" I replied, using a matter-of-fact tone. 

"Didn't they give you pills to deal with that?" 

"I don't want to be in a drug induced coma. I'll feel more shit then I usually do. It's also not right to constantly pump your body full of false hormones and shit like that." 

"I don't care. You need sleep. Go and take your medicine. Atleast then you might be able to actually do something rather then just sitting inside all day, doing nothing." Mum ordered. I didn't sit inside doing nothing but I didn't want to argue with her, even if she was only half asleep. If she was, she seemed a lot more alert then I usually am. 

So, dragging my feet, I went to the kitchen and got my glass of water and my sleeping pills. I waited until I got back to my room before taking them.

I lay down and within a few minutes my body went numb. My movements were stiff, like I was too weak to even move my fingers. 

I took one quick look around my room and just as I had feared, they were there. An army of the dead explaining each one of their stories to me so that I will tell their loved ones for them and they can finally pass over. 

Usually, I was very good at blocking them out but this was different. All my defenses were down, I couldn't move and I couldn't scream. All I could do was watch them as they all mimed their stories and farewells silently. 

Luckily, my eyelids fell over my eyes and a soft darkness surrounded me as I slipped into a drug-induced sleep. In this place, there was nothing. Not even a dream. There was nothing. Just me. All alone until someone woke me or the drugs wore off. Either way, will be a very lonely few hours.

The End

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