Trip

 When I was writing last week I accidentally skipped two pages in my notebook. Their emptiness was bothering me so I decided to see if I could create a story on only two pages. This is what happened. 

Trip

     1:27 AM. It's the same time each night. It's funny how your body will find a rhythm for itself given enough time. The bathroom was only a short distance down the hall. Each night he made his way through the heaping pile of clothes that he neglected by daylight. In his sleep induced stupor, not unlike that of drunkenness, he managed to trip each and every night, whether it was on the way to the toilet or returning to the comfort of his covers.

     Last night marked the fourth in a row. If three had not made it a trend then four did so undeniably. In the surrounding darkness of the previous night it was upon returning that he tripped. As he lay there attempting to reenter his dreams he made himself a promise, tomorrow would be the day that he would once more see the carpet of his bedroom floor.

     He was moments from sleep when he felt the stinging of his ankle, the corner of the bed frame combined with his clumsiness had drawn blood. He choose sleep over a bandage and soon found himself in unimaginable worlds.

     3:27 AM. A mere two hours later he awoke and again headed for the toilet. On his way back to his covers the trip caught him surprisingly off guard. It was different this time, the cold clammy fingers closed themselves about his festering ankle. The beast below had smelled blood and was ready to strike for the final time. It had waited long enough.