Anti-sleep. [Spontaneous Write]

The fire burned through the night.
My home- My own home, engulfed by screaming flames. I could almost hear the wood cry out in pain every time something within snapped and fell.
But, I thought, but.
This was no accident.
This was no ‘natural disaster’.

This was Mikayla.



The fire was tamed to mere embers at about four in the morning. They sent me to some kind of refugee accommodation, where I slept on a ridiculously uncomfortable mattress. I could feel something crawling inside it for hours before I finally fell into an irritated sleep.

How could I sleep at such a time?
I’d be asking Mikayla why she did it the next day.


Mikayla Shores was a psychiatrist. A good one, at that.
Saved my rump from getting put in the looney bin, too. I was having a rough time, and she patched me up in a few sessions. She dealt with all kinds of people; when in her waiting room, I’d seen violent, crazed and angry people walk in, and come out in what I failed to see was an almost coma-like state, so happy they were.

I don’t know how she does it. I can’t even remember what we did in our sessions; after walking out of her room, I simply remember being blissfully happy and motivated. I never suspected anything during our sessions, but now, it just seems so suspicious.

The other thing is, since I stopped seeing her, everything turned bad. And her name kept popping up.
My Lawyer ran off just as I was in for a speeding ticket- got bored with his job. Told me about this amazing psychiatrist he had, named Mikayla Shores. Got him ‘motivated’ to try and change his life, the lucky sap.


I was trying to sell my old house, and the people paying most suddenly upped and decided their own house was okay, despite the leaking pipes and ceilings, and the roach infestation. Told me, some psychiatrist made them realise how much they would miss it. Mikayla Shores, they had told me.

So many other things had happened, not one of them in my favour. Mikayla kept popping up.
But this, this was just too far. My house now lay in ruins.



So, the next morning, I charged in to her building.
I was furious, but somehow, even just the waiting room lulled my rage back into my chest, and I was somehow forced to fume patiently in a seat.
The walls were blindingly white, lots of glass furniture. Everything was white, and if it wasn’t white, it was crystal clear glass. It was a frustratingly sterile environment, which had somehow taken my anger by the horns and shoved it back down into the back of my mind.


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Yeah, I know, I don't hang around the Literature section much. Buuut, I got bored, and decided to write whatever came to mind. This wasn't pre-planned, just seriously writing whatever decided to show up in my head. :'D

If you're bored too, I can post more, but you don't have to pretend to like it. XD

It's creepy in a good way. ^^