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 get in.

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.