5 - Balance

An acrostic poem for your enjoyment:

Being
Apathetically
Lonely
And
Nihilistic
Causes
Existentialism

4 - Crowded

"Anna?"

I cracked open my eyes at the sound of the small voice. Instinctively my eyes searched for the stabbing light of the alarm clock--1:08 AM. I groaned and turned to look at the small disturber. It was the usual culprit, little five year old Sarah, her feet sticking out of yellow duck pajamas that were just a little too small for her. She was clutching her ragged baby blanket to her chest.

I lifted my head with an effort. Maybe this time she just needed some water or something.

"Hmmm?"

"I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you?" she mumbled from behind her blanket.

I let my face fall back into the pillow. I knew I should let her. The good sister would sweetly cuddle the little angel and sacrifice half of her small twin bed for the sake of sisterly love. But Sarah kicked. And stole the blankets. And took up more room than that deceptively small body should. And this was the third night in a row she'd had a nightmare. I was so tired I thought I could burst into tears right then and there. Was she actually having nightmares? Or was it just her personal mission to see I never got a good night's sleep?

I mustered what little charity I had left turned my head back toward her.

"What about Meg? Or Hannah? Don't you think you could sleep with one of them?" I said sweetly.

She took a small step closer.

"No, I wanna sleep with you."

I shut my eyes and ran a hand over my face. With me. Of course. It didn't matter that there were two other perfectly loving sisters she could go to. It had to be me.

But as much as I wanted to send her little bum packing and teach her a lesson in growing up… I just couldn't. I couldn't bear the thought of the tears and the whining, and a small part of my heart did wonder if she really did have a scary nightmare. So even though my body wept with exhaustion, I scooted over to the other side of the bed.

Sarah immediately pounced, a bony knee jabbing my thigh with the surprising force only little kids have, and I couldn't help but think that, truly, no good deed goes unpunished. I rubbed the spot with a wince. No doubt in the morning I'd find a bruise to match the one she gave me last night. The little angel had the pointy joints of a devil.

Sarah, of course, fell asleep almost immediately, arms and legs flung wide. I was crowded to one cold edge. Cramped in my own bed, unable to have my pillow to myself, unable to relax. I couldn't believe this was happening again. School was bad enough without having to deal with this at night. The sleepless minutes dragged on and I couldn't help it -- an exhausted tear slipped down one cheek. 

~~

SMACK.

A small sleeping hand whacked me in the ear and I woke with a curse in my heart for all the world. Sarah, still asleep, had rolled over for the millionth time that night. At least waking up meant that I had in fact fallen asleep at some point. I craned my neck to see the alarm clock, praying that it was morning.

4:32 AM.

I let my head drop and let out a small whimper. Why me? For the sake of my sanity, I had to lock my door tomorrow night. Let her go ruin someone else's night. Anyone else's night.

Suddenly Sarah rolled over again as her whole body jolted. She sat up sleepily and started to cry in little huffs.

I sat up too.

"Sarah, what's the matter? It's ok, don't cry."

Her baby eyes shimmered with tears as she opened them, still half asleep.

"The worm ate you. I don't want the worm to eat you!" and she started to cry in earnest.

Like all nightmares it sounded absolutely ridiculous when said out loud and I had to resist laughing. So that's what this was. I suppose her being upset by me getting eaten by a worm was, in fact, a compliment. I didn't want to be eaten by a worm either. I looked at her little face and her messy hair and sighed. I hugged her and stroked the hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ears.

"It's okay sweetheart, don't worry, there are no worms. I'm here! Go back to sleep, ok? Don't worry."

She huffed and whined a little more but laid back down. I kissed her head and somehow found that I didn't mind the crowded bed quite as much as before. 

A writer, maybe?

I've been challenged to do the NaNoWriMo short story writing prompts and in true can't-ever-fail-any-expectations fashion, I'm going to try and do it.

Some obligatory excuses so I don't feel as bad for when I inevitably fail those expectations:

1. first drafts only so if something isn't working or whatever I'm just going to post it anyway 
2. I have trouble coming up with ideas so...ya, don't expect brilliance (if you were expecting brilliance at all, bless you)
3. I don't really have a third but a bullet list looks dumb with just two points so just know that you're cool and my cat would love you