Lucky Number 9.

It’s been a while since I’ve written short fiction. Feedback?

The rain pelted on my window forming colourful liquid blobs. Under the darkness of my room, it looked surreal, pretty even.

The darkness does strange things to you. Sometimes it puts you to sleep. Other times, it envelopes you in comfort, slowly pulling you in, just to show you the nightmares you tried hard to get rid of.

The nightmares were more frequent now. I have forgotten if it was a drunken haze or remnants of my uneasy sleep. There was a time when I would wish for a nightmare, even if, to lull me out of my otherwise dull existence. No more.

The ceiling fan still whirred. I liked it. It had just one purpose. The machine made more sense to me these days than humans did. The constant churning and whirring of emotions and thoughts in my head made me dizzy at times. They made me a question – doubt myself. Some arguments were valid.

Lately, I’ve been reading about the afterlife; the various possibilities. It would be great to come back renewed with a new sense of purpose. It was a like OS update. You get rid of the bugs and come back with these amazing new features that people will hopefully like.

It was 4 am now and I was knackered by my regurgitating thoughts. They went volleying through my skull and sometimes it was hard to contain the madness. I did the only thing I knew best. Popped the lid and took a few pills.

The sleep came blissfully, welcoming me with an embrace of a friend.

I woke up and it was still dawn. My soul felt afresh, undraped by its bindings as if it could fly. As I flew past, I saw something in my periphery. It was a figure, she was sleeping.

She had the happiest expression I had seen on her. I knew her too well. This was what peace looked like. On her, it looked out of place, but she wore it with vengeance.

The pills had worked, number 9 was lucky for me after all.

Featured Image: Pexels



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