NIGHTS

Whispers that begin where rest should have been

At first, they were a welcome distraction, brief vignettes that lit up the darkness right before sleep took hold. She wasn’t sure when they began to consume her entire nights. Some made her laugh. Others left tears on her pillow. They came unannounced, uninvited, but always vivid.

The urge to write them down grew stronger with each passing night until it could no longer be ignored. She’d slide out of bed, toes meeting the cold floor, and tiptoed downstairs, avoiding the boards that creaked, afraid to wake her sleeping family. The soft blue light of the screen bathed the room in a quiet glow as she typed, not quite awake, not quite dreaming.

She tried to resist. Decided, no more. She would not write. She would reclaim her sleep.

But the stories didn’t stop. They danced through her mind, loud and relentless, stealing her hours like mischievous children. Until, again, she gave in, sitting before the screen in the small hours, letting the words flow, surrendering once more to the words that refused to sleep.