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The Dark Memoir
Sleeping. Not for entertainment, not for attention, but simply because we need it to stay sane. This condition of body and mind which typically recurs for several hours every night, in which the nervous system is relatively inactive, the eyes closed, and consciousness practically suspended, is something I’ve been depleted of. Not because of the late hour television shows, or having the traits of being an insomniac. No. I’ve lost sleep because I can feel something hovering inches off my face in the short time between my eyes closing and falling completely asleep. Most of us know the feeling. Few of us open our eyes to check if something is actually there. I refuse. It’s no longer a feeling, rather, a state of knowing. The minute I open my eyes, I will no longer be able to shut them after the horror I will witness. What do I do, I feel it breathing. A warm moist flow of air. A stench so terrible it makes my nose burn. Tossing and turning keeping my feet under the covers where I feel safe. Only 6 more hours of darkness and then everything will return back to normal. But this is ridiculous, I haven’t slept in weeks. There’s no choice for me anymore. I can’t take this. I open my eyes to see.. Nothing. Just a dark blackness consuming my vision. Relief overwhelms me. That is, until I turn onto my side and see the horror awaiting me in my bed.
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Sleeping in the dark