I wrote this piece during my stay at the psychiatric hospital, but it was rolling around my brain cage for a bit before then.
The Insomniac's Lament
By David "Surprise" C.
The sunrise creeps into my abode through the dusty blinds. My eyes pry themselves open as I sigh wearily. "Still Alive." I whisper, to no one.
My limbs slowly activate and gradually align. I shrug off the weariness of unrest as I make my way to the vanity sink.
The once pristine surface of the mirror is now rusted and dusty to the point where I don't recognize the man in its reflection.
I go through the motions; Shave, Wash, Suit up. In this dry,cruel world, I cannot leave my sanctuary without clothes /and/ armor.
Once this humble knight has equipped his armor, he needs the weapons, nay , the tools to keep himself alive.
Sorting through my 'toolbox' I fish out my crowbar and my trusted pistol, Wanda. Wanda and I have been traveling together for a while now,
she always had my back, and I kept her well-fed and clean in return. With my figurative chainmail, morning-star and crossbow, I swing ajar the door to my sanctuary.
The desert sun blinds me momentarily as I take moment to recollect. The world is as I left it, broken, ravaged, arid.
My stomach pleads for sustenance with a guttural gurgle. Time for the hunt, it would seem. Sleepless night morphs into restless day as I lock my sanctuary behind me
and go forth in the desolate desert. A quick stop at the source to refill my flask with the Blue Gold of the Mojave Wasteland.
Once my unending thirst was slaked, it was time to satisfy my primal hunger. With my crossbow in hand, I marched South-West in search of worthy meat.
A whirling pack of silver-gilled geckos stirs on the horizon. I crouch sneakily and ready Wanda to confirm she is ready to fire.
One surprise bullet eliminates the smallest gecko of the pack in its tracks. "Kill or be Killed." I remind myself to ease my tormented conscience.
As I pepper through the remainder of the herd, I hear the click of an empty magazine, with no time to reload, I swing my crowbar to dispose of the last gecko.
Victorious, I drag the reptilian bodies to a nearby fire pit. I hack at some nearby shriveled trees and toss the firewood into the pit.
I reloaded Wanda with a magazine of incendiary rounds, with one shot the fire is lit. I use the cleansing heat of the fire to treat my multi-tool.
I then pry the meats off the lizards' bones and rack them over the fire. Once they are all picked clean, I use the remains to refuel the fire.
The sun was rising as I started my feast, but as I finished my steaks it was looming overhead at high noon. I sneak under a rocky alcove to wait out the Zenith.
Watching the parade of rich tourists and the trading caravans go through from my hiding spot, flask in one hand, Wanda in the other.
Once the sun sets closer to the horizon I step towards the unexplored canyon...It was as if I'd walked into Hell itself, beasts of bone and claws, swarming and raving
around the remains of my unfortunate predecessors. It was too late, they'd spotted with their ominous glowing eyes, the deathclaws began to grunt and growl as I was charged by the herd.
I was trapped, I could not outgun them or outrun them. I tried to kill one of them but all of Wanda's rounds save one did nothing. "Looks like I finally get to sleep".
I whispered in a weak attempt to console myself. Pressing Wanda to my temple I look onto my approaching doom. Click, BANG! Bye.