Monday, November 6, 2023

Brandon awoke from another nightmare. The darkness of his bedroom pressed down on him like a weight, his breathing fast and panicked. He thrust an arm out into the black, his fingernails clicking against a lamp. With a flick, the switch turned. Light filled his bedroom.

 The apartment was silent. Brandon surveyed his room, the desk in the corner, his closet door firmly shut, several stacks of books covering his dresser. Everything in place. Nothing wrong. He breathed in and reached out to turn his lamp off, but hesitated. Too soon. He wasn’t ready for darkness yet.

 Brandon pushed himself up to a sitting position and grabbed his glasses and the notebook on top of the closest book stack. They said it would help to write it down—his memories, his nightmares. Brandon clicked his pen a few times, then wrote the date on the top of his paper.

August 30th.

He took a breath and, one line down, tried again.

That night…

It was so dark…

Everything was quiet, perfect. A normal…

Nothing sounded right. Nothing felt real. Just some story he was making up.

Brandon ripped the page out of the notebook and crumpled it up. He shut his eyes, but didn’t put the notebook away or turn off the light.

Brandon’s memories flashed behind his closed lids. Listening to the news, the sound of sirens ringing through the streets, losing his older sister… His hand started moving, writing the words out.

Brandon opened his eyes and shuddered at the poem he had scrawled in the notebook. He tore the page out and held it right in front of his face.

They said it was supposed to get better. It had been ten years, after all. It didn’t feel better, though.

Brandon sighed, closed his notebook, and lay back down. He fell asleep, the lamp still filling his room with light.