The fan

The sounds of the fan are merciless. It drones on and on, a vibrating humming in the moon less night. The hum is accompanied by an occasional high rattle.

John had been counting the seconds between the rattles. He’s on his stomach in the bed, staring wide-eyed at the window. It’s dark outside and he should’ve been sleeping ages ago. But the mattress is transferring the ridiculously strong vibrations of the fan. They resonate in his ear, travelling up his brain. It feels as if there’s nothing else in the world but the fan and its noise and shakes.

But then, a new sound starts. It startles him, so much that his whole body gives a little twitch. The sound resembles a stalling engine. Or the start of a tree falling down. Or just his wife snoring.

He’s so exhausted, but he can’t shut the sounds out. His mind goes places he hasn’t visited in years. He starts to panic. No! He doesn’t want to go back to that dark place. He needs to sleep. He needs to break this pending journey into the abyss. He needs to break it! He needs to break it.

With a groan like a dog, he jumps out of bed. His wife startles. Of course now she stops snoring! Of course.

He walks around to her side, reaches out, and grabs the fan.

His wife starts to say something but John doesn’t hear it. He lifts the fan above his head and smashes it on the floor. He keeps on smashing it until the only thing he’s holding is a long piece of white plastic.

His wife sounds hysterical now. He’s fine with it, and calmly walks back to his side of the bed. If she doesn’t stop making noise soon, he’ll just break her too. He can’t wait to have a good night’s rest.

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