Provided UFA hires sound engineers
or I could try to get a record deal with them if I go ahead with doing a major in music
haha, I'm crazy. Hmm.. Maybe in a few years, I'm starting my course in 2 weeks. <3
Anyway, weird fic from an inhuman point of view. I don't know, it was hard to end..
and Happy Birthday to me~ I'm still not legal enough to drink and drive.. meh..
A night with Mr Sandman.Tokyo, Japan. It is the first half of October and somewhere in this metropolis, men wasted away their night in the company of wine and lust. Further downtown, juveniles come out to play with their toys and big words. In situations you would probably be familiar with, some are desperately hugging the Buddha’s leg while attempting last minute revisions. All of them, fighting against that which makes them succumb to dream. And you? I’m wondering why you’re still awake at this time, or something to that extent.
Round a corner and remembering to take a left turn, a girl who had recently become an adult rushes out of a building and flags for a cab. The roads were fairly deserted right now, and I wonder where she’s heading at this time of the night. She paced, from pole to pole, those same ones that held the taxi stand’s shelter up. Growing impatient, the girl in a simple white sweater and pink pleated skirt checked her wristwatch again, followed by the straining of her neck, in hope of catching at least a glimpse of any vehicle in the distance. As she waited, she thought and considered, whether to persuade the driver to give her a ride if it was a private car, or kick an existing passenger out and hijack the cab. Her pink and fluffy twin hair ties shook violently along with her head. That is unbecoming of an idol, she thought. She waited some more as her watched beeped, reading ‘11: 10PM Thurs’. She wished she could be in bed now rather than rush out for a recording.
Back in the building, which turns out to be a residential estate, what we’re looking for is really behind. In a modern multi-story house that smells of an Italian restaurant, everything was pitch black. The humming of a water filter was amplified in the empty hall, and behind that fish tank was the kitchen. Left over spaghetti, an empty packet of mozzarella and a bottle of digestive pills sat on the counter. But let’s ignore that and move on. In a room upstairs with more than enough books for anyone to ever finish and a portable karaoke set, there’s a sleeping beauty in the center of it all. Already deep in slumber, one wonders just how heavy of a sleeper she really is. Under the thick blanket, she was clad in an oversized t-shirt that seems to be customized specially for her. Surrounding the sleeping girl was a collection of soft toys ranging from bears, to rabbits, aliens and dolls. In her very arms was a giant turtle, which she hugged protectively and mumbled sweet nothings to. She stirred in her sleep, telling me that it’s time I find someone else to visit.
On the other side of town, but really just at the end of the neighborhood and in yet another multi-storey building, a young talent sat crossed legged in front of the couch. In t-shirt and shorts, she sat a bowl of salad on her lap (more meat than salad, really) and switched on the television, lighting up the entire room. She shouldn’t be wasting time away like this, but who could resist late night comedy acts together with their favorite food? She laughed hard, she giggled, and she tried many times to stifle both. It wouldn’t have been pleasant to wake up the other occupants of the house, and the least she could do was to be considerate when given a place to stay for free. Beside her were a stack of craft paper, and 3 boxes of different markers, pens and crayons. She thought it would have been nice to make her specialty -handmade cards- once the show was over, but little did she know that she would start to grow drowsy once she got into the second half of the act.
I wander some more, leaving the three girls behind to their own devices, dreams and fatigue. Passing by a window, we try to take a peek. Inside someone stood by her desk, holding a phone receiver to her ear. I could hear what she was saying, but I don’t understand. In her native tongue she spoke perhaps, and I simply watch on. In sweat pants and a shirt, she shuffled her feet nervously, sometimes smiling, sometimes not. She was reluctant to hang up, but a third yawn was the last straw. She bid farewell, a satisfactory smile on her sleepy face as she returned the receiver to its original place. Crawling into a bed, she laid still for a few moments, a small prayer escaping her lips. Slowly, her eyelids grew heavy and another gives in to the sandman.
Uptown, I feel closer to finishing my task. I could hear a distinct variation of expressions and tones from somewhere. There were exaggerated claims, soft sighs and girly chuckles. It was amusing to listen in on, but it really makes me curious about the visuals. I spied from behind the curtains, only to see arms flailing and papers flying when someone else came through the door. The occupant of the room shrieked in surprise and bent down quickly to clean up her mess while muttering apologies and promises to go to bed soon. On the floor, she slumped against her bed once she had tidied up, pulling down her pajama top that had rolled up during her rough movements. Sighing in frustration, she closed her eyes, reciting lines with specific emphasis in her head. Gradually, the practice stopped unplanned and I hope she wouldn’t have a sore back tomorrow morning.
Somewhere in a rich district, which I don’t really know why I’ve set foot into, a certain apartment caught my fancy. I see designer furniture and really nice wallpapers. I must say, whoever owns this place surely has taste. I wondered through the quiet corridors and found a room still lit. A woman sat up in bed, wearing a nightgown that made me a little shy, but let’s not get carried away. She was reading, rather intensely I might add and soft music played softly in the background, which she paid no attention to. Ironically, it made me a little lethargic too, but I must complete my duty nevertheless. I waited for her to lay down her book and turn off the lamp. I waited for her to sink into the blankets and close her eyes. I have waited a little longer than expected, but it never came. Out of patience, I let the woman be.
From where I stand now, I watch the city sleep. Like a creepy stalker one might personify me as, traveling on clouds and along with the wind, I had paid each of them a visit, or at least tried. Now that my work is done, I sprinkle dust into my very eyes and join them in their dreams.
Topic: When Insomnia Attacks (One shot collection [12]) (Read 25901 times)