The Silence of Insomniacs

Prologue

The Quietness of Fairbanks

Silence is something most common people don't understand.

Silence can mean a number of things and I happen to believe there are many types of silence. For one, there is the loud silence. I know it sounds crazy, like how can silence be loud?

But it is.

It's when you're in your bed, feet hanging off the edge and hair fanned out across your pillow. It's 3 a.m. and everything around you is as still as a statue. However, if a pair of eyes were to take a one-way train through your brain, things would sound different because you listen with your eyes.

In your head, it's loud. Well, at least in mines it is. The sound of pots full of broken promises bangs against each other; the harsh whispers of the wind as they wave by the trees tickle the inside of your skull; the sound of broken father's beer bottles and weak mom's knees that bang together like silver spoons travel through every dip and cranny of your head.

There are car horns, and tires screeching, and nails against a chalkboard, and heels clinking against the smooth tile, and the soft sound of the warm breath coming out of the small part of your lover's lips.

There are so many sounds, but never enough time.

When someone asks why you couldn't sleep last night, you simply say you were "lost in your thoughts" and most people would understand and brush it off; however, it's because of what is going on in your head.

That's the part people won't understand.

So when you lay in your bed at night, instead of tossing and turning, focus on the sounds; take control of them and shut them off before it's too late.

I could go on and on about all the kinds of silences in the world, but there is a unique kind of silence in my small corner.

Fairbanks. Approximately 32 miles long with a population of 32, 751; it's a fairly small town in Alaska. I have been here for as long as I can remember, just like most people living here. I don't recall my family moving into the large house on the hill, but I guess what you don't know is that way for a reason.

The silence of Fairbanks is something that everyone is accustomed to, but no one seems to talk about it. I walk outside and I can't hear the sound of heavy feet crunching in the snow. People never talk to each other, even though we all know one another. We keep our heads down when walking past each other, avoiding eye contact at all cost, moving to the edge of the sidewalk on either side as to not even brush arms.

Everyone here is... different.

Murphy's Law states that "anything that can go wrong will go wrong" and in this cracked town, I believe it. I don't want to give Fairbanks a bad name, it is a pretty innocent town, but nothing ever happens.

Not until December fifth, 2016, at exactly 2:43 a.m. I couldn't sleep and, and lucky for me, neither could Noah Thompson; an incredibly smart, transparent-blonde dyed hair boy who I was somewhat glad to call my friend. He lived in the heart of Fairbanks with his mom and a younger sister who had more holes for piercings then swiss cheese.

Now, most people would call me an insomniac because I let the silence keep me up all night; however, no one knew Noah was the same way. He preferred to keep it that way. I did not like to think of myself as an insomniac because it made me sound crazy, but that night, the night in December, I could care less.

We were walking through the snow-painted trees in negative ten degree weather in only sweatshirts and sweatpants and even though we knew we would wake up with a high fever and bloodshot eyes the next morning, at that moment in time, we didn't feel anything except for a warm buzz flowing through our veins, feeling like an electric shock.

Maybe it was from the lack of sleep we both suffered. It was silent like it is most of the time, and no matter how hard I tried, I still could not hear anything except for Noah's heavy breathing. I shivered when the winds picked up. Noah grabbed my hand; I still could not hear.

Then that's when we saw him.

A skinny, pale, young boy leaning against a tree. He was naked, legs tucked up under his arms, and for the first time, in a long time, I heard a sound other than the ones in my head.

It was his teeth chattering against each other. The sound was hollow and sent sharp shivers down my spine. He still hadn't noticed us yet. His hair was curly and black, darker than the veil that covered the sky. So dark that it blended in with the tree he was leaning against, daring to swallow him whole. Noah and I stood frozen. I hadn't noticed at the time that he let go of my hand.

The boy slowly turned his head to look at us with cat-like eyes the color of warm honey gone bad. His nose was sharp, cheekbones high, mouth thinner than paper. I saw the dark circles under his eyes, the black and purple bruises the decorated his twig shaped arms and legs. He started shivering more. He stood up suddenly, almost casually, using the tree for aid. He cupped his private with his hands and took a step toward us before his legs gave out and he fell on the soft snow.

He laid on his back, staring up at the sky, not moving, as if he was dead. Noah took a step forward, I grabbed his forearm. He looked at me for a moment and I saw something change in his dark eyes. People in Fairbanks don't like change; insomniacs like us don't like change either.

Noah shook his hand off of me, walked to the boy, and crouched down next to him. They looked at each for exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds, not saying a word.

The boy took a deep breath, his ribs expanding like they were about to break through his skin. And then he spoke with a voice so lifeless, so cold and hard that I thought I might have been seeing a mirage of someone dying. Or someone already dead.

     "Danger."

He passed out not even a second later.

And that one word was all it took to break the silence that surrounded Fairbanks.

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Thank you for reading. Don't forget to vote & comment!

- J.M.