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Night terrors haunt the soulless author with blaring horns of the bay’s passing boats. Running and rushing of the delicate component in his chest, with pounds of thunder shocking his veins. The sudden calls of “help!” choked a thin throat until nails struck through the first layer, strangling the second layer, as the nerves of steel race down the third. Body parts press against each other, constricting around, hands onto the lower back. Slowly, the dense air drained— from each entry way. Both of the writer’s eyes shut tight, blocking. The inevitable doom came too soon. From the same horrific dream, awakens the victim with a start. He captured his breath in harsh inhales and exhales. His heart pounds. Begging silently for ceasement.
Curtains entangle the bed’s blankets, tightly snug around one leg; an arm sandwiches between a pillow, as the author’s head aches from the harsh spike of the dashboard, rushing into his brain. A sort of fuzziness from remembering the night’s endeavor rattles in corners of his brain. The thought absorbs elsewhere for reuse, instead. After the prolonged wait of staring at a ceiling of nothing, the sleepless fell asleep as the moon sunk into the depths of the horizon.
His muscles ache from the sprinting and the drumming within the center of his chest thumps louder than before. His feet flies off the ground in powerful strides, running with no sense of direction. Was he going straight on, maybe he took a slight left turn. At this point, the blank nature of his surroundings became a blurry mess of no color.
Again, his legs twist into taffy. Gray taffy stretches and thins into a strand. The air straining from his lungs, until every last drop drains— out into the room. His heart could no longer even go by its rhythm.
It did not even jump, or skip a beat. Isolating from the body, they separate.
A drop of water drips onto his cheek. Then another. The barrage floods in. The tapping became an unbearable sound, riiinging, riining, tap.
A slam of the wood comes from the window. It appears just in front of the heartless orbs. So close to shutting down. The victim blinks at the stormy weather, far from his physical body, but yet the cool rain splashes against his body.
He reaches his free hands towards the window sill, stretching out into the gray sky. His body warms comfortably, contrary to the freezing room, that shivers his body before the attack. He takes his first step towards the window. Power surges back in him slowly, using every last gram, he reaches out the window and feels the pitter patter of the earth’s essence. He stares at the outside.
The tree next to the house stands tall, blocking out the others that come close. The black car cowers under its covers, waiting for the rain’s ceasement. The shiny wax could wash away at any moment.
Plinking sounds of water against glass panes soften their blow on the man with the nightmare induced mind. Just in the nick of time.
One eye shot open. The right had trouble opening up. The bedside table squeezes between the awaken and the window. Most of the papers flutter under the inscribed paper weight, Nick.
Nick hears the light snorer next to him. Soaking wet in a pink flannel suit, a few drops come tumbling down onto Nick’s cheek from blonde hair. The untidy hair pushes itself back with a caring hand. On the ring finger a silver ring commits itself to hold up the gorgeous blue sapphire on top. In one slow motion, an arm wraps around Nick with ease. Noticeable dark blotches from the rain’s drizzle cover more of the pastel pink. Darkening it into fading pools.
The dreamer turns to the other side and bumps onto a shiny tie. Nick’s eyes point up scanning the intruder. A charming smile. One that stretched from one end to the other. A rare blue moon smile which brightens the bedroom. Such a grin warms the soul, Nick’s soul and body melts into. A pair of blue gems with black pools within stare back at Nick’s own eyes. Even shinier sapphires lure Nick into safety.
“Gatsby, why are you here?” Nick rubs his right eye open and with harsh blinks both brown eyes flash. Honestly, his first question should have been how.
The taller male sat up from his position rolling his shoulders “I noticed you were tossing and turning. So, I climbed in through the window for convenience sake. I didn’t want to wake you with the doorbell,” with that kind of logic, Nick shuts the window beside him and locks it tight.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Nick shook his head slightly “How long have you stayed here?”
“All night long. It was only an hour ago you started calming down,” Gatsby looks up for the answer and places two fingers on his cheek, anchoring the words to his speech “I watched you from the chair, then laid down. I have to say, your bed is like a cloud.”
The author stares, quizzical, into the uttered truth. It was a nice gesture, but climbing through a window raises a few more warnings. The creepiest part being Nick not seeing him. Gatsby is that good. A shiver crawls up Nick’s spine, but dissipates at his thoracic region.
“I was worried, that’s all.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Really?”
Nick nods “Next time use the door.”
“I can use it now, since you’re awake.”
“No,” Nick grabs Gatsby’s hand before the caretaker could stand “I need more sleep, I’m still exhausted.”
The smile courses through his friend’s face as Nick presses up against Jay, lying together.
The author creates his own pitter patter from the soft stream of his eyes. Every drop soaking onto the pastel pink warmth and the golden sun tie.
The window opens again. The rain became a slight drizzle, blowing into the room from the north winds. Nick, on his feet, extends out into the sky’s blanket and pinks up the cotton balls. The shapes of each cloud detaches from their puzzle. One cloud round as a baseball. One stretches like a thin pancake. The pirate ship sets sail on Nick’s palms while the seagulls of another cloud flutter about.
Curling up and cuddling such a delicate being. Such a being of harmed holds onto the white shapes of every cotton ball as he sinks into them.
A sea of clouds lift up into the outside world.
Higher than his own house.
Higher than the tallest tree.
Higher than the stratosphere.
Up above into the open blue with the shining sun.
Dreams care Nick with pure silence of the sky’s empty atmosphere.