Here is a short story by Sydney writer Galileo. He first showed us his work about a year ago and is here again to share some more. This story presents a noirish protagonist who is haunted by portentous dreams. Enjoy.
We ran with the night. Wild, like a pack of wolves. Free, like a flock of birds. Left, right, we sprinted through the city streets like they were ours alone. At the corner, we stopped. The bag was dropped. Spray cans rattled and hissed. We waited a while to admire our work. In our eyes perfection gleamed, still wet in the light of a streetlamp overhead. A minute passed. Fingertips black and blue, we fled the scene. Not too close by, we talked a while, drank a while. The night had grown old. We finished it off with a bang. Bottoms up.
I woke in a bed. Peeled my eyelids open. Huh. Whereabouts unknown. This didn’t happen often, but when it did, I told myself it’s a story to tell the grandkids. Through a haze I looked at the mess of hair beside me, snoring. Still lost in sleep. It’s probably best I make my exit before I feel obliged to buy breakfast. Asshole. Avoiding the eyes of housemates, mothers, brothers or sisters I dragged my feet through the door onto the street to get my bearings. Through the metronome throbbing of a migraine in my skull I trudged home. Fell into bed. Fell into sleep.
Dreams were dark, as cloudy as memories from the night before. Swimming in black, treading water with something malicious below, threatening me, nipping at my heels. Paddling to the shore, which never got any closer. My universe collapsed and I woke alone in bed. I wonder if everyone has dreams like these.
Looked out the window. Dark again. Rolled out of bed and walked to the shower. Twisted the taps and sat on the floor.
What I’d give to sleep forever.
Get in contact with Galileo here and see more Acid Midget short fiction here.