My Words, My World

First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing

The man who counted the dark

He knew how long he lay there. He never had the problem of keeping time in the dark. He would lay with his eyes closed and his mind would toboggan along the cold hard slide of his twisting thoughts but he would still keep time. He loathed the fact he could keep time in the dark while others slept and he couldn’t.

He didn’t have this problem during the day. During the day he would yawn and lose track of time if he didn’t look at his watch. Minutes could drift into half-hours and hours. If he didn’t have his watch he wouldn’t know the difference. Minutes ran and stumbled into each other as he yawned his way through the waking hours until he wound down for the evening until around midnight where, after a drink and a read, he would sleep. He would sleep until the night, cruel and vengeful, would wake him and the process would start over again, as surely as ice will form on a mountain lake in winter, and he’d lay there keeping track of time.

For ten years now he’d lain awake in the dark counting the minutes that ran into hours and he guessed that it would now always be like that until the darkness could no longer be counted.

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16 thoughts on “The man who counted the dark

  1. I couldn’t imagine. I get some sleep but not enough and yes the dark seems forever. You have my empathy

  2. Reflective words. Can’t decide if I lean toward the hopelessness or an odd promise. You often leave me thinking. And the toboggan reference is brilliant.

  3. This is me and reminds me of Daysleeper by REM.

  4. if you can glean hope from the dark, you’re onto a good thing. Not everything in life is white light.

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