I wrote this the other night for a writing challenge on one of the little
writing clubs I joined. Just a spur of the moment kind of thing.
The world's darkness hovered around him, creating an emptiness to
everything. An emptiness that mirrored the feelings within is soul. That
was, if you could even consider whatever was inside of him a soul. He had
become void of all emotion; the only things left were the longing for rest,
the eternal exhaustion that tormented him day in and day out.
He was unsure when it had began, or why it had started; his memory was too
blurred to focus on actual facts and events of his past. The only thing he
was mildly aware of was simply that he had to go on. Each day was a
struggle. His body was slowly shutting down.
He no longer worked in the real world. His exhaustion had made it too
difficult for him to function according to the standards of time set by the
world. Now, he worked from a little room in his apartment, hacking into
computer systems in order to find a way to stop hackers frrom being able to
The money was good, but not nearly good enough to satisfy his needs. For
what needs were there to satisfy? Not even the best doctors in the world
had been able to improve his condition.
Night after night for, at the least, the past decade, he was tormented by
the inability to sleep; the insomnia which ruled his life. He had no
control. No means to find a way; no means to find an end. He simply was.
No friends, no family, no realtions of any kind, other than that of
business related meetings. He was a freak; different from the world's ideas
of 'normal'. His pale skin gave him the look of death, causing fear to run
down the spine of any who met him.
There was nothing to describe this man, other than the simple fact that he
was who he was; The Insomniac.