Nets of Insomnia

As I've probably mentioned before, one of my favorite things to do is write. I do some poetry and light prose every now and then, sometimes for fun, sometimes for school. There's actually this really cool website called figment, where you can publish your writing and poetry and such. Other people can read your stuff and you can read theirs. It's all very cool and if you're into that sort of thing, it is a really great website to join. Anyways, I wanted to post something today but I didn't really have anything interesting to talk about so I thought I'd share some of my writing with you! This is a short piece I wrote after reading this truly beautiful Latin American poem called "Indications" by Elva Macias. The piece I wrote is from the personified point of view of fate. It's sort of strange, but I hope you like it anyways! It is called "Nets of Insomnia".

Nets of Insomnia

I see them all from the heights of my fortress, among the mountains of their broken dreams. The children, as they run eagerly towards their futures, and the men and women who cower away from their present, in an attempt to resurrect the past.

I know their every thought, their every feeling and I can tell you the details of their every second, of their every day. There are no secrets that can be kept from me. I see the courses of their lives, like lines of ants forever moving towards that distant goal, but always out of reach. An endless journey with the promise of nothing but disappointment.

It is I who smooths the snares and cuts away the thorns as best I can, but my best is not that great. It’s hard changing what is supposed to be inevitable.

In the depths of my fortress there is a loom, made of dashed hopes and shattered thoughts. It is here that I weave the nets of insomnia, to relieve the unwary, would-be victims of their constant endless nightmares. It is a state of mind to rival sleep.

As I gaze into the past, the present, the future, all at once, I see the souls whose lives are coming to a close. They may be destined to die today, or 50 years from now, but either way the moment that I see, will be the deciding factor.

I see a man of 35, about to take a job in San Francisco. I tug on the strings of his future, and I see if he does, he will be hit by a car within two weeks of his arrival. I see the car will swerve and as a result, the seven year old child in the back seat will die as well. Her mother will fall into liquor, not to satisfy her thirst but to quench her deep despair. And that’s three lives destroyed within one single act.

So again, I throw my nets and I catch his heart. When he cannot sleep, I whisper in his ear. The tossing and the turning are a small price to pay for the ongoing gift of life.

There are some, however, who I cannot help, despite how hard I try. The soldier, I can see him. He walks unknowingly towards his doom. I know that his fate lies in the land mine up ahead. It is like a stain upon his story and no matter what I do, I cannot scrub it off. I suppose it’s just his “time”. So I turn my gaze away and I do not witness the explosion.

But I see the flag they give his parents. And I see the salt that spills from their eyes. I know these to be tears, but I myself, I cannot cry. I lost the luxury long ago.

This is my purpose: to save them from their designated destinies.

And they say they don’t believe in fate.

So yeeeeahh... That's my short story/prose thingy. See ya later!