Alright, let’s see if I’ve got the magic right now.

Not a great sleep. I tried to claw my way into rest, but rest rejected me and so I was left wandering the dark halls of sleep, trying to find a bed that I could call my own in which to lie my head and close my eyes. All was dark and the halls were endless; I’d go around a corner and it would keep going, then another corner and it would keep going, and so it seemed somehow that they would not overlap with themselves, and it was all eternal.

I stumbled and staggered my way through these halls, hoping for the slightest hint of light so as to be able to guide myself better, but nothing. Sound was absorbed and silence ruled all. I could feel and I could touch, but there was no guiding sound. No creaking floorboard; no shuffling slightly echoing.

And on and on it kept on going, and all I could do was my best, to try and find some sort of reprieve from the fatigue that sits heavy on my back, and there was little I could do other than try. Energy was not limitless, but it too did not run out, but the weariness grew, and so did the need for sleep.

Eventually I decided that enough was enough and so went to lie down on the halls, but the hall shifted every time. I’d tried to lie down, and suddenly the floor of whichever hall I was in was back under my feet. I tried to fall over; no luck. I tried everything, and nothing. I had no choice but to continue to walk.

Occasionally there was some sort of hope, but it was just the dark of the night hitting things at different angles. But there were no windows and there was no light, and so the ability to discern what I was discerning brought little comfort.

I tried to sit down and ruminate about what it was that I was going through. There was no sitting. I could not; I was denied the ability to do so. Continually the halls would adjust themselves and so I was denied further rest. All I could do was stand and walk, and I lost hope of a way of getting out of this situation.

So I continued to wander, and I continued to search, but I looked without hope; it had become routine. All I had was the routine, and I kept looking, and I’m almost certain that in that hopelessness I passed that which I craved, but there was nothing I could do about it as I hadn’t realised. I could only keep on going and searching, and my eyes closed and I kept looking and fumbling, and it went on beyond a day, and it went on as centuries through a minute.

Eventually I felt something, as though light passing my face, and my eyes opened, but it was gone.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:58:01

I think this could’ve been much better. The idea isn’t bad, but I dragged out parts when I could’ve moved on, I feel.

Written at work.