Writing Contest:
This sentence starts the story: “The
Silence, filled with hope, was shattered by”
"The silence, filled with hope, was shattered by" the
sound of me slamming into the door frame.
The baby awoke with a jolt at the noise and began to cry...again. I groaned to myself. Please go to sleep. I need sleep.
Sweet, sweet sleep. The cries
only escalated. This baby is going to
wake the whole neighborhood soon, everyone except my husband. How is he sleeping through this!? I haven't slept in three straight
nights. I pick up my baby and sit in the
rocking chair. I hold him close to my
chest and begin to rock. Soon he is
asleep again. Thank you Jesus!
Placing him softly in his crib, I carefully back away, making
certain to steer clear of the door frame this time as I tip toe back to my
bedroom. I see my bed; the sweet comfort
of a cloud enveloping my body and carrying me off to a sweet oblivion. I had just laid my weary body down and pulled
the fluffy covers up over my body. The
silence of the night, once again filled with hope of an uninterrupted rest, was
shattered by the biggest snore I have ever heard. The walls shook. When did we move our room to the airport
runway? Did a train just run through our
yard? My goodness! I glare at him as I
consider how much sleep I would be able to get in my jail cell after I'm convicted
for his murder when I realize *gasp* the baby didn't wake up! Yes!!
Harley Davidson over here is getting louder; the baby will
surely wake up with the next blast of the nasal engine. I nudge him, "turn over". Nothing.
Nudge nudge. Nothing. I need to
get him to stop before he wakes the baby.
As I lay there, I position myself in what certainly resembles a skilled
ninja in the crane pose, but lying down of course. With my foot on my husband's side, I kick
into him, hoping he'll turn. Instead, I slide backwards. I knew he weighed more than me, but sheesh! I
hear the rumble of the semi-truck-snore approaching; I throw off the covers and
make for the bedroom door in the stealthiest run that I can muster. I swing the door to close it quickly but halt
just short of slamming it and gently latch it, just in time for T-Rex to let
out his roar. I sigh and rest my head against the door. "Resistance is futile" I whisper to
myself, as I realize that I should just accept my fate of another night without
sleep. Sigh.
No. No, I must try.
One more shot at victory. I turn
to face the bed once again and quickly formulate a plan for freedom. I keep my eyes on my husband as I cross the
room and dash into the bathroom. I grab
a washcloth, flip on the faucet, and hold it under the cold running water. Next, I carry the dripping washcloth into the
bedroom, then to my husband's side of the bed.
I hold the rag high over his head, letting the cold drops land on his
forehead before dropping the rag. I
hurry away from him and turn back to see him wipe the rag from his face, and
turn over. He never even fluttered an
eyelid. I hang my head in defeat.
Only, I'm not defeated, he turned over! Oh, joyous day! The snoring will stop and I can return to
dreamland. Oh, beautiful dreams. Martin
Luther King Jr. could do it, why can't I? I return to my blissful state of
lying on my mattress, under my cozy covers.
I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I feel my body relaxing, one by
one my muscles sink into the giant cotton-ball that is my mattress. My mind
drifts off to a flowered meadow. I am lying in the grass, enjoying the breeze
that carries with it the fragrance of mulberry bushes. I hear the leaves dancing in the wind, birds
are singing, and a fire truck is driving by...wait, what? Why is there a fire truck in the meadow? It's getting louder. It's coming closer. It's my husband's alarm clock. Ugh.
Thankfully, he hits snooze and I turn back to see the birds returning to
their branches. I smile at the sky as I
recline against an oak tree.
A few moments of pure utopia pass before I hear that damn
fire truck coming across the meadow again.
It pulls me slowly from my slumber.
When suddenly a BANG! I jump to my feet and whip around to see my
husband staring at his alarm clock; smashed to pieces because he knocked it off
the dresser while trying to hit the snooze button. The baby cries out. I have a revelation and
smile at my husband. "Your
turn," I say, as I climb back under the covers, "good night!"
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