Welcome to the twenty-sixth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by last week’s winner Laieanna from HodgePodge Point: Sleeping Disorder.
Ten stories were submitted this week.
One rookie this week. Yay!
And, as always, the usual madness by Planet Z.
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
The full text to each story…
T.A. MARQUETTE
I stair at the doorknob as I polish Master Simon’s blowing Ball. Later I’ll rearrange the newspapers and scrub out my latex boxer shorts.
I tried counting sheep earlier in the week but that just got Mr. Happy excited and you know how demanding that little guy can be.
Sometimes on sleepless night like this I wonder how different my life Would have been if I’d got that part in Pulp Fiction.
If I could dream, which I can’t cuss of this damn insomnia. I see me in a field of cover, surrounded by cute little pink bunnies.
Aaahhha Bunnies.
LISA:
In her twenty-five year practice, she’d never had a case like this. He exhibited all the classic signs of narcolepsy: overwhelming urges to sleep, excessive daytime sleepiness, involuntary loss of muscle tone, hallucinations, and brief episodes of paralysis. Yet, it was more complex; there was something else happening while he slept. He often awoke with uncharacteristic, inexplicable, hand-shaped welts across his face.
She decided to conduct further tests. He spent three days in a sleep lab, where the doctor and three female lab assistants made the novel diagnosis. Her findings were published later that year: First Documented Case of “Nympholepsy”.
ANDREW:
His doctor told him he suffered from a sleeping disorder brought on by stress and all he needed was relaxation. Clive knew better than that; his last visit to the sea was when it all began. His recent visions of discordance and apocalyptical scenes made Bosch’s vision seem childish.
Even the thought of the sea made Clive break out into a cold sweat. His nose was suffering hallucinations of brackish sea-water and fish.
Bathing himself and showers reminded him of sinking in the sea.
He eyed the water far below and jumped…diving into the cold embrace of the tidal river.
JOHN W.
It was midnight with the mowing – this time. Other times it was late night hammering and power tools, for months now. When nagged out of bed the neighbor’s house would become suddenly quiet; and I could get no answer.
My wife told me to be ready next time, and I was. When I leapt straight from my sleeping bag and into their yard I knew it was a mistake even before I saw the teeth.
Who would associate vampires with good housekeeping?
But I smiled, knowing my wife would come to see what the hell was taking me so long.
HOUSTON KEYS:
Tossing and turning all night had become an all too familiar routine and there was no end in sight.
I lay at night gripping my soft and fluffy feather filled friend longing for sleep’s sweet embrace. Finally I could take no more as years of my sleeping disorder had driven me to the brink of insanity.
It had to end.
I finally decided to end it all. I gave away my finest possession, my relaxed fit parachute pants.
I grabbed a pill bottle and downed the whole thing.
Unfortunately it was laxative, so it’s going to be a long night.
CAROLINE:
Sleepwalking wasn’t normally Harry’s style. How on earth did he get here, on the road, far from anywhere? He’d dreamt about Alicia. He couldn’t very well tell the wife that -they only discussed the weather these days. Alicia, his friend from the net he’d never met yet knew he’d like a lot if he ever plucked up the courage. In bright red disordered dressing gown and bare feet he slowly plodded home. His wife opened the front door. ‘Where on earth…’she began. Her eyes bulging as she saw it. On his forehead was a large A written in red lipstick.
LAIEANNA:
“What a honeymoon,” Donna sighed. Alex drank almost a whole bottle of wine by himself and was now snoring. Their very first night together and she was unpleasantly kept awake.
She covered her ears till he stopped. Finally there was no snoring, and no breathing. She stayed acutely aware until he started again. This happened all through the night and she grew deeply concerned. Later, he stopped for far to long. Donna freaked, leaping onto his stomach and pushing on his chest.
Alex grabbed her suddenly and laughed, “I knew I could get you on top of me that way!”
TED:
The harsh reality of life, is that we must and some point, endure sleep disorders. My most problematic symptom is not sleep paralysis, although that can be terrifying. What I have is worse. Sheep paralysis. I lie awake, counting the damn things, and every time, somewhere around # 46 or #47, one of the stupid things trips and bonks me on the head! Then I have to start all over again. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I just hate waking up and stepping in sheep poop. Once in awhile though, it can be a really nice eye opener.
CALEB:
Ted never could believe it wasn’t butter. He asked his wife again and again but she continually reassured him that it wasn’t butter.
It kept him up nights.
He eventually went to a sleep clinic but they too said that it wasn’t butter. Ted just couldn’t believe it or sleep.
Finally the sleeplessness drove him over the edge. Literally. He drowned in his car in Lake Superior. The autopsy showed, one last time, that it had never been butter. It had been meth-amphetamine with some salt and yellow food coloring.
Ted’s wife always did have a strange sense of humor.
KOLEK:
His exhaustion gnawed at him, for he could not fall asleep last night. Or any night before then. He wondered how he would avoid falling asleep at the wheel. Perhaps his sleep disorder would help him stay awake.
Probably not.
He blearily stared down the winding grey road and a thought came to him. No medication has helped him yet, or likely ever would, but this one would.
He thought for a moment, and then made up his mind. He swerved his vehicle into oncoming traffic and smiled.
Finally he would get some sleep. A deep, peaceful, untroubled sleep.
PLANET Z:
When Superman dreams of flying, does he fly?
Based on simple Physiology, we believe he shouldn’t. Most dream-capable organisms have evolved mechanisms in their brains that prevent muscular action while asleep or unscionscious, reducing neural signals to the periphery. All they end up doing is twitching or rolling a bit.
But then, somnambulism is the result of a subconscious malfunction, I remind myself, watching the snoring caped superhero waft crazily against the moonlit sky.
He tumbles, zigs, and grazes a building.
I hope he wakes up soon. I don’t know what’s worse – the damage he’s causing or those window-shattering snores.
Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.
(In case you’re interested, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldfield from the Tubular Bells II album.)