A piece of murderous fiction….
Insomnia’s a bitch.
Usually I try to get to sleep at a decent hour, but it takes an act of will to surrender, to give in the dreams that so easily seduce other people. It’s not that they don’t beckon because they do, calling out to me with quiet whispers of how nice it would be to let go, relax, fall into oblivion. But sometimes… sometimes I don’t even bother with the rituals of going to bed.
On those sleepless nights, I surrender to another call: the constant, subliminal thrum of energy that keeps me from resting. I go out to my car – dark grey, nondescript. I drive until I find an unfamiliar neighborhood, a fair distance from where I actually live. Can’t be playing to close to home. Then I park somewhere and start to wander, exploring my surroundings on foot.
Once I’ve found a new area, I…
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