Past the Witching Hour . . .

Slowly, gently a sound increases, wavers, then grows in intensity until finally a buzz, equivalent to a roar in this my semi-conscious state, sounds in my ear. My body spasms, jerks uncontrollably. The jerk brings full wakefulness as frustration seeps into every pore of my body. Again? Not again, I thought the battle was over for this night.

Slowly, but deftly my hand reaches into the darkness, my ears attuned to the slightest sound. It brings back my glasses, placing them upon my face. Again, my hand reaches into the darkness, this time it brushes across the lamp. The room is flooded - slowly I rise.

I must be fully aware, fully ready for action. My eyes scan the walls, the crevices, the corners. Just above my bed, I see another. He's in a precarious position - has the advantage, but if I'm just fast enough . . . SMACK!! Dead. I hope this is the last but fear my trial has not ended yet. It is far past the witching hour and my eyes burn as they continue in their scan once again.

I move towards the overhead light, flip the switch and wince as the room is bathed in a stronger brightness - What's that? A black speck in the corner? I step up, walk across my bed to get a closer look. yes . . SMACK! Drat!! He’s got away. My ears and eyes sharper than ever I pursue the search. Over there, on my makeshift curtain, ah, a tricky place but if I move in closer until –SMACK- the blood smears on my fingers – this one has already had a taste. The thought makes the bites on my hands and wrists sting and itch even more. I carry on with m search – another by the ceiling. Quickly – SMACK!

I scan once more – my eyes and my body crying for sleep. This is the second night of this madness, though last night, my body weary from sickness and too incoherent to realize the course that needed to be taken, I lay in bed, woken about 10-11 times through the night by the buzz, blindly and uselessly swatting myself in the darkness with the vain hope of killing the vile creatures. Not this night.

I scan and see nothing, hesitantly I lay back down, place my glasses on the table and turn of the light. But these words need escape. They whirl around in my head. A required prelude to my rest – I hope. I search, and tear a piece of letter paper away from the pack. As I write, another vermin of the night approaches. It eludes me once, twice, three times, but finally I destroy it. Victorious, I settle down onto my pillow, pulling the blankets around me contentedly. I will sleep. They will not have unending power over me.

I am the mosquito hunter.