I wasn't sleepy, and I got inspired to write, an idea that popped into my head, I don't normally write my fiction in a first person, but this one was just asking to be written this way. I believe it's a man speaking, although I don't know much about him since I've just created this. Read on, and tell me what you think.
The thing I love most about going out at night, is the peaceful sense I get. I'm talking about nearing one in the morning, when mostly everyone is sleeping. It gives me a sense of being alone, like there can't be souls for miles, and that for some reason, makes me feel a whole lot better when I can't sleep. I guess I'm the one to blame, I never wake up before noon, by the time I'm fully awake, it's already two in the afternoon. So I go out, the streets are practically empty, just a few cars pass by, but I pay no attention to them. I'm driving, have the heater on, while a soft country song plays in the background. It's cold outside, but then what exactly do I expect in the middle of January. I'm less than five minutes away from where I live, the grocery store I pass has been closed for hours, the parking lot empty, but the neon lights are bright as if encouraging someone to come by. I almost take up that unspoken invitation, but I roll my eyes instead, what exactly would I be doing at a grocery store that is closed, sit in the parking lot until it opens? No, I drive home, I've been out for at least an hour, and I feel better then what I did earlier.
Some might say I have insomnia, I say, I just like the night. Everything changes when the sun goes down, there are less people I come across. Everyone that is willing to stay up at night, instead of succumbing to daylight time, well those are the specials. We're sort of a species all to our own, you see, when most of the human race is out frolicking during the day, we night stalkers are inside. But once the sun goes down, when most of the masses have gone to bed, we come out. There's a reason we are low in numbers though, we rarely gather among each other, we quietly pass by one another unseen.
I round the corner, and as hush, hush as one can get in a car, I enter the lot to the apartments. I park my old Toyota under the porch, I actually found a spot this time, yay for me. Once I lock my car, sling my bag pack over my shoulder, I stealthily walk towards the stairs. It is not as though I am doing something wrong, or I'm afraid to get caught. It's just that it seems almost wrong to make noise, to alert anyone of my presence. My hand grips the rail, while I take step up, there's a scream, a door slams. My heart is pounding, quite fiercely, although I might not show it, I was startled. I take a long breath, still being as quiet as I can. I haven't moved from my position, instead I strain my ears to hear more. Nothing, that's what I hear, and the wind is picking up, I decide to just go up the stairs, there is no sense of getting chilled. Just as I make it to the top, there is more shouting, I figure it came from one of the apartments downstairs, and I recognize that voice. It belongs to a woman I have on occasion bumped into, one of those nights when I had to get out of my apartment. I brushed next to her, just as she was getting home. She is married, or involved with a man. I know this because as soon as she made it to her door and went inside, her partner started to yell obscenities, he demanded to know who she was with. I stayed in the hallway to listen, she yelled back at him, saying she was with her sister but he didn't believe her, he called her a whore and accused her of cheating. Then, then it got quiet, and I left to drive.
This time her screaming is different, she sounds like she is in pain. A door opens, and I hear a voice of another neighbor, the old woman that lives right next to the yelling couple. I take my keys out and scramble to get inside as quickly as possible. The thing about the apartments where I live at is that they are cheap, so they have little to no insulation, which equals paper thin walls, everyone can hear everyones business. I unlock the door and get inside quickly, locking it again. But I don't move from my door, no, I stand there hoping to hear more. It has grown silent, but then I hear the sound of wheels on gravel. It's a car, from the lightness of it. Two doors open and slam, and less than a minute, I hear the banging of a door. A gruff voice calls out, "Open up, police!" I can only assume that the officer is knocking on the couple's door. Maybe the old woman called them out, because of all the shouting?
The banging on the door goes on for several more minutes, but it stops. I run to the window that overlooks the parking lot, the police car is pulling out and then it's gone. "That was it?" I ask myself, "Just a few bangs on the door, and then you leave?" Of course the officer can't hear me, and I don't necessarily expect a response. I can't say that I don't feel a little disappointed in him. What if the man killed the woman, and no one would know? What if he beat her unconscious ? All these wild scenarios run through my head, but nothing, nothing is possible. Not until someone actually goes in there and sees. I feel worried, yet conflicted. I am not one to get involved in these sort of things, what if I am just over exaggerating? Maybe the woman is fine, I have no actual evidence that the man has ever even hit his partner. All these are just assumptions, my imagination making the worse of things.
