NIGHT TERRORS
WOW: clean and hum. Dean's not having a good night's sleep...
Disclaimer: I don't own them
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Dean lay in the darkness in his room and sighed. Even his memory foam mattress and the 'ocean breeze' fragrance of the fresh, clean bedlinen he'd put on earlier this evening were bringing him no comfort.
It was an intermittent, whining, high pitched hum. Loud enough to be audible, quiet enough to be intensely irritating. It tormented him; every time he was on the verge of sleep, it would begin again. It would sound in one corner of the room and then another. Its source, hiding in the darkness, ready to strike.
It was torture.
He clutched despairingly at his quilt, gritting his teeth as the infernal, unforgiving noise arose again, this time seemingly just beyond the end of his nose. Mocking him unseen in the shadows.
He was prepared to beg the evil entity to relent and grant him some sleep. He wanted to ask it why it was doing this to him. He wanted to ask what he had to do to escape its evil presence.
But most of all, he wanted to know how, when they lived in a bunker with no windows, a freaking mosquito had got into his room.
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