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Hard Pillows
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Hard Pillows |
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Alain DeLaCendres Member
since 1999-07-02
Posts 119Ohio |
*note: sorry, this one just kind of flowed out..there was no pre-planning to this..it just ran out all by itself. I don't know where it came from..(1419 words in this one..) The ceiling fan is turning at it's highest speed. It's tottering back and forth, as if this action would help it to live a little longer. I'm kind of afraid that it will finally come loose from the ceiling and come crashing down on me while I sleep. This is a very vivid picture in my mind..the few remaining wires holding the fan in place would snap with a twang and the fan would fall, still spinning, onto my stomach. The only unclear part is if the fan would hurt me or not...would the metal blades be spinning fast enough as it fell to harm or even kill me? That would make quite a mess I suppose... This image of the falling fan plays itself behind my eyelids like an old silent movie that no one wants to watch anymore. It's haunting enough that it's keeping me from sleep, and every time I get close to drifting off, the image resurfaces again and sleep evacuates my body and mind with a speed even the Flash would have admired. Sometimes we think silly things at three o'clock in the morning, wouldn't you agree? I'm not one who believes in suicide, but I'm not so sure I would care if that fan fell on me, just so long as I was sleeping when it happened, then I could say I died happy. But as it stands now, I hope that fan stays put because I'm not asleep yet. I wonder if anyone would sue the motel for me if the fan fell on me? Somehow I doubt it..Susan would shed a tears or two because she would feel guilty for having thrown me out, but probably never consider it; mother would just crack the seal on a fresh bottle of Scotch and drink herself to death (and quite possibly literally to death); and Joey would find some way to twist it around and blame himself, Joey's a great friend, but he's a little too shaky to depend on when it comes down to the razor's edge. So overall, I might be missed, but they would all get over it... Well, that train of thought sure didn't bring me any closer to sleep. It's bringing images of Susan to the front of my mind; which is most definitely not something I want, memories of my childhood and teenage years with Joey (I prefer to remember those earlier years with Joey because they were a lot better than our adult years), and a bit of guilt for not having gone to see my alcoholic mother for over a year. Why don't I want to think about Susan? Well, because it hurts. I wouldn't admit that to her just yet, but I can at least admit it to myself. I also have to admit that I messed up, but if those friends of her's who feast on any gossip they hear and inflate it as they go wouldn’t have had to make themselves look good and make up lies about me to Susan, then things would be a lot different. I had lunch with an old high school female friend, and they blew it up into a full fledged affair...but then that's not the only thing is it? No, I guess not, that was just the last straw...I have to stop thinking about Susan or I'll never get to sleep. These motel beds are always hard and the pillows are always like laying your head on rocks. The air conditioning in my room doesn't work, and that half broken fan up there isn't helping any either. So, I'm laying here naked under a thin sheet that is almost transparent (because I always have to have something covering me while I sleep, I don't know what it is, maybe a fetish or a phobia, something like that). My body is covered in it's own sheet; a sticky sheet of sweat. The windows are both all the way open, but there isn't much of a breeze blowing through them. I have the curtains drawn, but I can still see the orange glow from the light over in the parking lot of the gas station over there. I can smell the city around me, even though I'm on the outskirts. That dirty, stale, almost fake air is all around me and I know it isn't going away. It's almost enough to make me sick. I'm used to the air of a small town, which is a hundred times gentler on your nostrils. It's easier on your mind too. This city air seems like it brings insomnia with it as if that is it's only duty. I've finally quieted my previously chattering mind, but I still cannot grasp sleep. Back when I was in college (a very distant five years ago) I started smoking so I could start sleeping. I bought a pack of cigarettes before I checked into this motel, just in case. Susan has always hated smoking, so when I started seeing her I quit. But I don't suppose she can say much now...she's over twenty miles away and I don't ever know if I'll see her again, so what could it hurt? The matches fill the already nasty city air with their lick of sulfur which burns my nostrils. But when I inhale the smoke and feel it go down my throat, that harsh lick of sulfur is forgotten. The heat from the cigarette is not exactly welcome, but the relaxation that the nicotine is bringing on is more than welcome. It has a guilty feel to it, but that only makes it better. Funny how the things that you know others disagree with are always the things that bring the most pleasure. I don't have an ashtray, I guess the maids don't think anyone should smoke. Oh well, I'll just flick the ashes onto the floor then; I bet the maids who clean my room tomorrow will like that. I continue to smoke my cigarette while I lay on my back, hoping that I don't drop it and catch the bed on fire. I used to smoke in bed back in college, and I only dropped my cigarette onto the bed once. But that had happened at five o'clock in the morning while I was terribly drunk. My roommate was luckily still sober enough to notice the smoke and get the cigarette off the blanket before it caught fire. That little incident had scared me pretty badly and I made it a rule from there on out not to smoke in bed, especially while intoxicated. But I guess I can make an exception just this once. My thoughts are wondering again, but at least the cigarette is starting to make me tired. It's only half gone, but it's been quite awhile since the last time I'd smoked. The last time had been a little under two years ago, just after I had started seeing Susan. She never really voiced her objection to smoking, but it was pretty obvious by the way she used to wrinkled her nose and waved away the tendrils of smoke when they floated her way. I can't really say she was a picky woman, she just didn't like smoking. No problem I'd thought, I'll quit for her because it's bad for me anyway. I stub the spent cigarette out on the night stand, hoping the maids will forgive me tomorrow. My eyes are getting droopy now, but the thoughts are starting to resurface again. Maybe they keep it down to a whisper and I'll get at least a few hours of sleep. Oh my, so my things to decide for tomorrow. Should I go back and explain to Susan what really happened? Would she even believe the truth any more? Would she believe that I went out to lunch with that woman because Joey asked me to so I could put in a good word for him? Some how I doubt it. Should I just go on my way a leave it all behind to be forgotten? Leave Susan to her lying friends, leave Joey to get that woman by himself, leave my alcoholic mother to drown her sorrows in cheap expensive bottles of Scotch? As tempting as that all sounds, I don't know of I could do it. Could I leave behind the place I've lived in my entire life and all the people I've grown up with? Somehow, I think I can. Sleep is coming now..it's about time.. 12:58am / 8-3-99 ------------------ Tout s'en va, tout passe, l'eau coule, et le couer oublie. |
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| © Copyright 1999 Alain DeLaCendres - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
This is so good! It was like sitting on the side of your bed listening to you talk to yourself! Very easy to read.  |
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Lost Dreamer Member Elite
since 1999-06-20
Posts 2464Somewhere near the Rainbow |
This was good, I hope you finally got some sleep, and I more then hope you are able to resolve the haunting problems that invade your mind right now. I think you should give Susan the benefit of knowing your side of the story, and see where it goes from there. |
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hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
Very nice read...thanks for posting ------------------ "Nobody has measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold" ~Zelda Fitzgerald |
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Nicole Senior Member
since 1999-06-23
Posts 1835Florida |
What an excellent narrative of your thoughts! A great read  |
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