The Insomniac and The Devil-part 1

_{Image from 1984 film A Nightmare on Elm Street}

The Insomniac stared blankly at the television screen, straining his eyes to make out the images on the screen. He realized he hadn't blinked his eyelids for hours and he desperately wanted to close them for just a minute. He reached for his coffee mug and took another swig of that deliciously bitter brew. He told himself that this was what he wanted, that he could sleep when he was dead but it was a lie. He craved his soft bed and the dark embrace of deep slumber. Sadly however, sleep could no longer be an option, for waiting in the shadows with malicious intent was The Devil who's nostrils filled with the intoxicating smell of hopelessness and despair.

The Devil tapped his claws rhythmically on the walls, impatiently waiting for the night to pull The Insomniac into it's arms and cradle him gently to sleep. The Insomniac could not see where The Devil hid but knew he was there, watching him as a cat in tall grass would watch an injured bird. He could feel The Devil's presence, a cold chill that could make the sun shiver along with thoughts of hate, sadness, and crippling loneliness. The Devil sensed that The Insomniac could feel his presence and this knowledge caused a crooked, shark-like grin to spread across his face. The Insomniac shivered as he could feel The Devil smiling, the feeling crawled up his spine like a prickly spider under his skin, making it's way up to his skull.

Another hour passed, The Insomniac walked into the kitchen and poured another cup of pitch-black coffee and sipped it lightly. He glanced over at the digital clock display on the stove, 3:00 AM looked back at him. He turned his eyes from the clock and began to stare down at the floor. He felt the ever-growing weight of exhaustion shift with his head, He wasn't going to make it, He never does. The Devil was going to get his due and there was nothing The Insomniac could do but delay the assault. This tired and frustrated man sank back down into the comfortable leather chair in his living room and began to stream the next episode of his favorite show.

As images and sounds poured from the large flat-screen television and flooded into his brain The Insomniac noticed that the dark shadows in the corners of his eyes were making their way closer to the center of his intention, blocking the screen like an overweight patron in a movie theater. The darkness began to spring outward like a spilled drop of ink on a blank sheet of paper and drifted towards The Insomniac, engulfing his vision as it grabbed his arms and gently pulled them down to his sides taking the remaining strength out of him. His eyes grew unbearably heavy and began to close, he drifted backwards and felt every muscle in his body release all fear and tension that was left in them. The last bit of consciousness that flashed into The Insomniac's mind was a tall figure composed of pure evil with a pale face and hollow eyes strutting slowly towards him, the same figure he had seen so many times before. This insidious entity, The Devil himself, approached his prey like a mistress to her lover, putting his face just inches from the face of the terrified man before him and said two haunting words in a raspy whisper... "Sweet dreams!"