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- Mar 27, 2013
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- 149
This is something I originaly wrote in portuguese about a year ago, and I decided to translate it as best as I could to share it with you guys! 
Sorry if anything sounds weird, the translation might not have been the best one :/
Night Delusions
It was 3 o'clock in the morning, when I woke up. I sat on the bed and looked around, not knowing the cause of my sleep's interruption. Perhaps the horrible thirst that dried my throat had woken me up. I switched my lamp on, but it was fused. Still, the room wasn't dark, not much anyway. The light from the street lamps came in through the windows' gaps and gave the division a certain honey-like luminosity. At the same time, the occasional sound of a car passing through would help filling the room. In my opinion, there's nothing like the common, calm sound of a passing vehicle to comfort you at night. In a certain way, it calms the night's terrifying silence down. Yet, I'm drifting away from the topic...
Moving on, I fearlessly got up and headed towards the bathroom. The hallway, however, showed a completely different scenario from the previous one. Without windows, it was dark, empty and endless, like the ones in the movies. It creeped me out, so I rushed into the toilet. Unfortunately, it wasn't much better - a problem, perhaps, designed by western mind. The numerous murder clichés cause me to mistrust bathrooms. Private or public, it doesn't matter. From the constant fear of closing my eyes in front of a mirror and open them to find someone staring back at me, to the ridiculous chance that a rat will come out of the toilet pipes, biting off something which I don't intend to get rid of for the following years. Clearly, these delusions only come to my mind if I start wondering superstitiously about the greatest stupidities. Throughout the day, my use of this division is by no means affected by idle toilet thoughts.
On the other hand, the fact that I live in a little hut in a small village in Trás-os-Montes1 won't help calming down my nocturnal incursions off my bedroom either.
While I drank greedy gulps of water, I had the feeling I was being watched, as if that stranger you look upon once in a café, smoking pipe in a corner, was there, gazing at me. Looking around, I saw nothing. Feeling ridiculous and, at the same time, upset, I dried my mouth and went back to bed. And still, there was... something. My poor little house wasn't well that night. Anyway, I wasn't feeling like crawling out of my bed's warmth again and showing empty rooms to my foolish mind.
That foolish night eventually fell asleep, not bothering me again throughout the night, and woke back up at nine. As I opened my eyes, I felt an abusive layer of sleepy dust that made me wonder whether Sandman had been working numbed by his own sands... After an incessant eye rubbing, I observed my bedroom. The morning light had replaced the lamp's one.
With a still foggy vision, I made breakfast. While I cooked, I felt an air stream through my back, which bothered me to the point that I interrupted my morning routine; following the light breese towards the living room, I came upon a scene that struck my mind and body, something indeed creepy: the windows were open, the curtains floating. I reminded clearly of closing them, the day before, and through the night there had been no wind, certainly not bursts that could break through my windows! At that moment, I understood that my irrational worries, hours earlier, hadn't been pointless after all. Perhaps some clichés are more real than others, and some even likely to actually concretize...
I searched the whole room, eventually realising there was nothing missing, at least nothing that my troubled mind could notice. Unlike what one might think, I managed to end up with an even creepier conclusion then the setting already was: whoever broke into my house had been looking for somehting, and hadn't found it. There was more to this story...
Looking repeatedly at the floor and walls, I looked for something different, something that didn't belong to my comfortable everyday life. Something that could help me understand what was going on within my home, and what kind of events were possibly yet to come.
iamxaxas
1 - Trás-os-Montes is a region northeast of Portugal, where the lack of oportunity has led to a massive aging of the population. It is a mountaious/rural region, with many isolated villages that are either abandoned, or inhabited by no more than 10 or 12 people.
Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome, hope you enjoyed reading it. (Some might ask, and I answer right away: I do not plan on writing a sequel or any sort of continuation to this story)
Sorry if anything sounds weird, the translation might not have been the best one :/
Night Delusions
It was 3 o'clock in the morning, when I woke up. I sat on the bed and looked around, not knowing the cause of my sleep's interruption. Perhaps the horrible thirst that dried my throat had woken me up. I switched my lamp on, but it was fused. Still, the room wasn't dark, not much anyway. The light from the street lamps came in through the windows' gaps and gave the division a certain honey-like luminosity. At the same time, the occasional sound of a car passing through would help filling the room. In my opinion, there's nothing like the common, calm sound of a passing vehicle to comfort you at night. In a certain way, it calms the night's terrifying silence down. Yet, I'm drifting away from the topic...
Moving on, I fearlessly got up and headed towards the bathroom. The hallway, however, showed a completely different scenario from the previous one. Without windows, it was dark, empty and endless, like the ones in the movies. It creeped me out, so I rushed into the toilet. Unfortunately, it wasn't much better - a problem, perhaps, designed by western mind. The numerous murder clichés cause me to mistrust bathrooms. Private or public, it doesn't matter. From the constant fear of closing my eyes in front of a mirror and open them to find someone staring back at me, to the ridiculous chance that a rat will come out of the toilet pipes, biting off something which I don't intend to get rid of for the following years. Clearly, these delusions only come to my mind if I start wondering superstitiously about the greatest stupidities. Throughout the day, my use of this division is by no means affected by idle toilet thoughts.
On the other hand, the fact that I live in a little hut in a small village in Trás-os-Montes1 won't help calming down my nocturnal incursions off my bedroom either.
While I drank greedy gulps of water, I had the feeling I was being watched, as if that stranger you look upon once in a café, smoking pipe in a corner, was there, gazing at me. Looking around, I saw nothing. Feeling ridiculous and, at the same time, upset, I dried my mouth and went back to bed. And still, there was... something. My poor little house wasn't well that night. Anyway, I wasn't feeling like crawling out of my bed's warmth again and showing empty rooms to my foolish mind.
That foolish night eventually fell asleep, not bothering me again throughout the night, and woke back up at nine. As I opened my eyes, I felt an abusive layer of sleepy dust that made me wonder whether Sandman had been working numbed by his own sands... After an incessant eye rubbing, I observed my bedroom. The morning light had replaced the lamp's one.
With a still foggy vision, I made breakfast. While I cooked, I felt an air stream through my back, which bothered me to the point that I interrupted my morning routine; following the light breese towards the living room, I came upon a scene that struck my mind and body, something indeed creepy: the windows were open, the curtains floating. I reminded clearly of closing them, the day before, and through the night there had been no wind, certainly not bursts that could break through my windows! At that moment, I understood that my irrational worries, hours earlier, hadn't been pointless after all. Perhaps some clichés are more real than others, and some even likely to actually concretize...
I searched the whole room, eventually realising there was nothing missing, at least nothing that my troubled mind could notice. Unlike what one might think, I managed to end up with an even creepier conclusion then the setting already was: whoever broke into my house had been looking for somehting, and hadn't found it. There was more to this story...
Looking repeatedly at the floor and walls, I looked for something different, something that didn't belong to my comfortable everyday life. Something that could help me understand what was going on within my home, and what kind of events were possibly yet to come.
iamxaxas
1 - Trás-os-Montes is a region northeast of Portugal, where the lack of oportunity has led to a massive aging of the population. It is a mountaious/rural region, with many isolated villages that are either abandoned, or inhabited by no more than 10 or 12 people.
Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome, hope you enjoyed reading it. (Some might ask, and I answer right away: I do not plan on writing a sequel or any sort of continuation to this story)
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