The Curse of Night

No air. Hands wrapped around my throat that are unlike my own long slender fingers. A cold sweat covers me. The queen bed seems monstrous around me. The trucks on the highway are that much louder. The wind is that much more ferocious. The uneasy silence in the blackened room is broken by my heavy breathing. The heat is overbearing, pressing down on me as if it were a heavy weight. A soft dim light beckons me to the window and I draw the curtain. Snow is lightly falling the wind is whipping it around mercilessly. The clouds have a pinkish glow to them at this strange hour and I stare mindlessly at the sky. I drown in the sea of clouds and I try to fight my way out. Here's that pressure again: a dead weight dropped on my torso. All at once the heat leaves. I am left a frozen icicle, drowning in the hue of clouds. I give up the fight. Those hands are back. The hands are tightening their grip around my throat. The air escapes my lungs as I choke on my own scream. I feel my throat bruising. The world is now black and white. Now, just blackness surrounds me. Just like that it's gone. I'm gone. And I must accept defeat.