Carousel

I open the window. It is night. Heavy, soft fluffs of clouds stretch their legs, as ghastly cricket symphonies play in the moonset. The blanket I swooshed aside lies on the floor like stagnant dew. Cold breeze somersaults inside the room, pumping my bloody heart with icy water. Under the violet quilt of night, traffic lights increase their intensity, so the colors begin to swoon my eyelids too. I stop looking at them. What if there was a beautiful place, like the one inside my head, where you escape every night, and when you wake up back in your bed, you realize bringing everything that you took along, to the real world, except for the sweet smile racing on your lips? I guess I’m too hungry for it, but I know a place where owls wear kilts, and I’ll take you there someday. Keeping it a secret as of now.

When the asphalt glitters with whole new installations of streetlights, which, because of some reasons, are beginning to haze, neon lights from restaurants waltz again. Hondas, Toyotas, and Audis race against one other.

Skeleton feet walk inside my room.

I’m a bit scared. Not too much, but my fear is just like a small dot of chalk on a blackboard. My imagination is playing tricks again, but when I look back at the room, unpainted patches on the wall take the shape of some rude faces, and my brain gets horribly washed by fear. My neck is actually a greased pivotal joint where control happens to be a very big deal, so I look around the room, which is now a marshy jungle and lianas tickle my feet like whiskers of a wild hare.

I believe that I should go to bed, because anything can happen anytime. Things can pounce on me from the dark corners, and end up relishing my flesh. From head to toe. I jump back to the bed, and all of a sudden, this room starts throwing ideas at me. Me? What do I have? A personal greed for classroom siestas, I suppose. Never mind, I stay inside. I pick up the blanket, and curl my body under it. Sadly, I can’t sleep.

I toss and turn. Sometimes my legs would point at the wardrobe, while the other half, my head would be facing the direction, but I don’t close the window, or it would be too stinky in here like it was minutes ago. Phew! I know what to do tomorrow. Ask for a thick duvet or a quilt!

How marvelous it would be if humans could fly! We could stand on the eaves, knowing we can never fall down. We could fly over apartments, shopping centers, towers, and travel almost any place. And if I had the ability to breathe places in, I would definitely go to Fa-Ther’s office first. I would make it vanish, and exhale it to the outer space.

She lives in a far off beach where her dad owns a boat, big enough to accommodate lists of to-do adventures. I think we’ll drive a ferry today in the loch.

Goodbye – the sirens and streetlights, the traffic policeman and his spit-drenched whistle, the beggar and his bottle of rum, the roars of trucks and their speedy drivers, swearing of partying youths, the night and its stars. I will be hungry for you tomorrow.

I can’t sleep. STOP YELLING AT ME.