The Resting Place

The room is painted white. The bed is near the window. In the thick of thunderous silence, there is a woman named Willow tossing and turning. The once soft, now too firm mattress bites at her back like little Pac Mans. After eleven minutes, she's asleep. No movement...quiet...finally.

At three in the morning, her eyes are wide open again. This time there is no movement. The silence is still brighter than the darkness. Only her eyes can move. This is happening again. She can breathe. She can hear her heart beating. She can feel her thoughts marching like soldiers through her mind.

"Why does this keep happening to me? God...Jesus...Buddha...Moses...Angels...

Somebody...please, help me. I can't move."

Her entire body is stiff. Her breath quickens. She began to will certain parts of her body to move - fingers, toes, and nose. Nothing moved. Her eyes are searching for a presence in the room with no success. A tear falls from her right eye. As it fell to the bedspread, Willow brightens up as she decided to just stop fighting it. "I'm going to sleep," she told herself.

A little girl is crying in the corner of a bedroom. There is a pair of large hands coming towards her. She is sleeping on the floor. The bed makes her spin around too much. She is older; a teenager. "Pass it over here, man," a voice says. Willow smokes from the pipe too. In mid-air, there is a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 pouring itself out and into the widened mouth of a thirsty soul. Smoke fills the room. Roll it up into papers. She is crying again. She is older; an adult. Tied up to a bed, she cries again. She is standing naked in front of the refrigerator. No matter how much she eats, the hole in her belly gets bigger and bigger. She is crying again. She feels stuck. There's a wall on all sides of her. "Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!"

Willow rises from the bed like Frankenstein. She looks around the room. The television is on - Judge Mathis is ruling in the Plaintiff's favor. She grabs the remote and turns off the power. After placing the remote back on the dresser, she rubs her shoulders. Her face is contorted as if she smells a funky odor lurking in the air. The only thing she smells is change. "I've got to get a new bed," she says to no one in particular.

Her phone rings as if on cue. "Hello," Willow closed her eyes. "Life would be grand if I could sleep and talk on the phone at the same time," she thought. The voice of her best friend, Tamia came through like a bell.

"Hey...I was just thinking about you. Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine...I guess," Willow opened her eyes.

"No sleep again, huh?"

"I got sleep...not a lot, but I got sleep."

"Get a new bed," Tamia was good at commanding things, but never exercises that same discipline in her own life.

"Sure. Let me go get my checkbook," Willow smiled at her own sense of humor.

"Ha! But seriously, I think what you're going through is called night terrors."

"Excuse me?"

"Night terrors...like nightmares, but you can't wake up fully, but end up going back to sleep and when you wake at first you scream or gasp and..."

"Uh...no, that's not what it is," Willow interrupted.

"Really? Well, I don't know what you're problem is," Tamia said.

"Right now, it's you," Willow laughed.

"You got jokes this morning. Well, if you want to hang out later on tonight, I'll be at Shueler's getting my drink on."

"Ok...bye," Willow said.

"Bye."

Later on that night, Willow wakes up again silent and stiff. Her eyes moving in the darkness searching for some super hero to come bursting through the window or the wall to save her. Her eyes are releasing more than one tear. Suddenly, she feels the stiffness melt away from her toes up to her head. She opens up her mouth and says, "La la la la la la," just to make sure she could speak.

She grabs her pillows, bedspread, and a few movies. In the thickness of quiet celebration, she sleeps on the living room floor. Her body is relaxed. There is a whisper of sweet victory at this quick solution to an issue that was many years in the making. Her television is watching. This room is peaceful and not made of biting memories and scary stiffness.

And Willow dreams of a new bed.

The End