A Nearly Perfect Circle

[A Tale of Paradox

Headlights can only illuminate so much. The road bends and curves, so little feasible destination in sight, and I did my best to stay within the lines. Another night in the dark. Not quite the same as having my eyes closed; more torturous in intent, like a reaper with a sense of humor. Breathing the thousandth breath since the last time I thought about how long it’s been since sleep last assailed me, plucked me from the world and allowed me peace of mind in oblivion. Oh, if sweet relief would come to mend this wound, this crippling lack of energy. The desire to live was stolen away when my gaze was preoccupied, and now the will to pursue it is atrophying. My mind has traversed this desecrated road before. It is darker than any abyss, and just as endless too. Insomnia.
The light only shone dimly ahead. Signs passed me by, and I was ignorant to their meanings. I hoped no one was out on the road this late. Eighty miles an hour is not the most desirable speed to stop at.
I drifted along, knowing there was no chance my head would slowly slip down onto the wheel, my eyes would close and I would smash headlong into a tree. By now, I’d prefer that. It’s been seven days since the last time consciousness faded in me, and my brain has become my adversary. The longer it is active, I think, the more it attempts to trick me, to swindle me of sanity. It knows my weaknesses. It is a maggot to my decay. It has been testing my sanity, prodding, waiting for that perfect chance to strike. If I could just be rid of all my senses, fall asleep and never awaken, the malice of my hidden eye would be quieted. The one with the whispering bellow would return to the depths, and paranoia would follow. All of it would leave me alone.
Voices drifted as I drove through the night. A strange mist pervades my feeble sight, like the thick breath of a sea deity. Two feet ahead and behind are consumed in obscurity, but bless those helpful lines on the ground beneath that provide a childish initiative for me, the mindless follower. Oh irony, how I wish mindlessness was an option now.
A while ago he spoke, and since then, silence. He speaks evils in their purest form. He knew what I wanted, my deepest and most heretic desires. It was like my eyes were a gateway to hell, and I was sinking further and further, led by those whispers. A somnambulist, I followed him. Bodies screaming, no longer human, shaking limbs, quivering bones… No…I mustn’t continue, my mind said. Focus slid back into place, and I remembered. Thinking about anything for too long makes truth out of fallacy, reality from illusion. The flames I saw beneath me, curling around my feet like wreathes, happy to consume and eradicate were not and had never been real. It was my own mind, prodding. My own mind and him.
After hours had come and gone, and the sun was still in selfish hiding, there arose a demon from the vague depths of insanity once more; he had returned. His words magnified in volume and clarity. His inevitable plan for me unfolding, his whispering words gave a single issuance.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
It is nothing if not clear what will happen if I stop. He will summon forth a set of visions, things that aren’t there. He’ll make me hurt people; he delights in belligerence. I’ve never swallowed his deceit before, but I am weak. I have never hurt people before, but it seems somehow more appealing now.
“Why are my windows fogging up?” I voice. I must have been breathing faster. Thoughts become words, and likewise. A feeling wrenched my stomach, and I felt something ominous approaching. Suddenly it occurred, like a dog getting run over, but magnified in its ability to mortify. The mist ended in a cliff. Now I was falling hundreds of feet, free air whistling through my open window, and I was able to see the boundless horizon strewn before me. Horror manifested as a painful scream, and I bellowed it until my throat felt lined with rocks. The flames that had been waiting reached up and over my head, and as I hit the water, I began to burn alive. It made no sense.
Then focus slid into place, like with the lines on the road. I had already died. I had died falling hundreds of feet and smashing into the ocean in my car. Now, I was in hell.
Of course, this was the precise moment my eyes chose to snap open. I had fallen asleep, oh sweet relief, I had fallen asleep! But wait…his voice remained. My own realization was simultaneous with his rhyme, and as I delved far into remembering the dream, he spoke, this time quite clearly.
“Tiresome and tireless, breathing fast and breathless. Insomnia had not a hold, you dreamt of dreams, and now your own.”
As I remember almost distinctly, the lights illuminated the telephone pole for a mere second, and then I dreamt of insomnia forevermore.


*I have a few more ideas to make the paradox thing a trend of some sort, but I want to know if it's worth pursuing. Thank you*
*Note-this story had been edited once over*

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~Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion~Tool
~Don't ever let life pass you by~Incubus

BlackHoleEnvy

Greetings.
This is definitely worth pursuing. At times it almost reads more like poetry than prose. I'm not sure if it stands on its own, or is intended to be part of something longer. As it stands, we know too little about the narrator to understand his thoughts/actions, or to care about what happens to him/her. Nevertheless, his descent into madness (death?) is intriguing.

You need to watch your tense. You move back and forth between present and past. Also, you begin in the second person, then switch to first. As this doesn't seem to serve any purpose, I'd stick with one or the other.

Since withering and atrophying have the same intended meaning here, use one or the other.

This bit doesn't seem to pertain to what comes before it, so it is confusing. Perhaps it stands on its own as a new paragraph?

Good line.

No need to mention mist twice.

Another brilliant line.

This chunk seems out of place. It would be better suited in the introductory paragraph.

This is awkward and needs rewording.

This is extremely confusing. I have no idea what you're trying to say.

"Suddenly it occurs," would be better.

This sentence started out nicely, but after "horizen" it descends into murkiness. I would break this up. And how does one scream his/her sould unto the sky? That doesn't work for me.

Overall, you have a nice eye for imagery, but you need to tone it down a little. The piece is a tad cluttered. It always helps to read out loud to yourelf. If it doesn't flow right out loud, it won't in the reader's mind.[/quote]

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A Nearly Perfect Circle

Thank you very much for pointing all of that out-it was very helpful. The piece, as I see it right now, stands alone and would not continue, but rather I would apply the theme of paradox to other circumstances with a different paradox altogether. While this paradox involved a insomniac who is actually a narcoleptic dreaming of insomnia, future stories may be different juxtapositions of something and its opposite being one and the same. The paradox itself was the intended focus, and the person narrating was simply its fairly unknown victim, a trend which would continue in the other stories, with a character not intended to have any sort of outstanding personality, I guess. I did switch between second and first person alot, which I thought would help unhinge the sense of clarity the narrator is lacking, but I'm going to read it through a few times to review if this helps or debilitates. Thank you again.

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~Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion~Tool
~Don't ever let life pass you by~Incubus

Kimberly Bird

Hi Perfect Circle. I'm glad I took the time to read this, you have quite a talent. This is good just as Flash Fiction... I think it would be hard to continue in this mode for long though, just because it is quite intense and your audience will need a break unless you have in mind to start delving into his past, which would of course slow the process down, know what I mean.

I really enjoyed this, favorite line " I bellowed it until my throat felt lined with rocks." How about lined with pebbles?

Best of luck with this.

Kimberly

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There are two types of wisdom in this world; one is seeking and loud, the other is silent and true. (Chief Dan George)