Friday, 23 September 2011


When I woke this morning I knew the monster was here to stay.

I felt drained, as if my life source had been transfused. There were remnants of the night’s restlessness still clinging to the edges of my waking mind.

Last night, the demon had been there, in my room with me, but I shut it out, willed it away so that I could rest. That damned beast struck me with its flaming torch; a taunting, possessed Prometheus. Though I screwed my eyes tightly I still saw the flashing licks in the darkness, spelling out some ancient, broken up hieroglyphs. It mocked me; knowing that Acheron and Styx; the darkest rivers of hell, would not even blot out the flicking torture of the light.

My will was strong and I entered sleep; a hopeful reprieve from the torment.

There was no reprieve on waking; only reprise. It jabbed towards me as before, with the torch, burning at by retina. Or maybe it’d taken up photography and was trigger-happy with the flash gun. The ultra-violent light was a winning, weakening weapon in its arsenal, causing me to feel nauseous. I was blinded by the light in my head and by the sunlight that struck through the slithering gaps in the curtain, as they moved in the breeze of the open window.

I had to get up. My hands shielded my eyes, suctioned on like barnacles to a ship. I could not allow the light to enter, not at any cost. So, I stumbled through the doorway heading towards the stairs. I needed to kill this thing. It would be slow once I swallowed the drug. It was always such a painful, all-encompassing experience, which left me an empty shell of a being. And then, it was hours or days, feeling like a zombie; unable to think, talking in slurs whilst my lips and face tingled and became numb.

There was someone coming.

‘Are you okay?’ he said. It was my husband. ‘Stay there. Don’t move, love. Sit on the step, I’ll get them for you,’ he said.

He came back upstairs and led me back to bed.

‘You’re cold,’ he said. I always am though.

After I forced the tablets down, between tsunami waves of nausea, I curled up in the foetus position whilst my husband covered me up and placed a black t-shirt over my face.

As I lay there, waiting for the blessed release, I reminded myself that I would be normal again. Well, a functioning human. And Prometheus would back away and extinguish his flame. Till the next time.


  1. This is a migraine.
    I know the monster well.
    Hideous beast.
    Feel better.

  2. Yes. A nasty beast, yet intriguing.

    I have a book by Oliver Sacks on the subject, which I dip in and out of. The mind is truly a strange thing.