three
I sat down in front of the computer and turned on the monitor.
I wanted to find someone to talk to, but I was obviously frightened by the cockroach just now and didn't dare to lie back on the bed.
At 3 o'clock in the morning, I was wandering lonely on the Internet. I opened chat rooms one after another, but I couldn't find anyone to talk to. The late-night chat room is a dirty place where you can find your desires and release your hormones. I have no interest in it at all. Watching the large and small Chinese characters moving upward row after row, all I felt was a deeper loneliness.
I am a lonely person, so lonely that others cannot imagine. I could go months without leaving the house, just in front of a flickering computer screen. When I want to eat, I just need to call the small restaurant downstairs. I put 400 yuan in the restaurant every month and they can prepare whatever I want to eat. If I have to open the security door, I only do it to get lunch, mail, or take out the trash.
I lived in a shabby apartment that was both cold and damp. I dreamed of many dead cockroaches . I never knew who lived upstairs and downstairs, and I didn’t want to know. The reason why I chose this place in the first place was because it was quiet and far away from the road. I don't want to be disturbed by others, I prefer to live in my own world.
Do I have no desire anymore? I smiled and said to myself, maybe my desire is far stronger than others, but I will never let anyone know.
I walked into a chat room and saw that there was only one person hanging there with a weird name called Natural Born Killers.
Haha, a natural born killer? I sneered. I have seen this movie directed by Oliver Stone. The picture is filled with a large number of black and white shots and color shots that are connected quickly and irregularly, making you dizzy. Although most people will be confused by the slanted images and frequent flashbacks, I understood it, and this is my favorite movie to watch.
After seeing this Natural Born Killer, I couldn't help but type a string of words to him: "Do you like this movie too?"
Soon, the answer came: "No, I just like these words."
"Oh! Do you like killing people?" I asked with a smile.
"If I don't dream about a lot of dead cockroaches , I don't dare. The most I can do is kill cockroaches." This sentence was replied over there, but the font turned into thick and thick blood red.
The masseter muscles on my face twitched involuntarily. cockroach? Why did he mention cockroaches? I thought of the fat cockroaches with flapping wings that had just appeared in my palm. Unknowingly, my vest was soaked with my sweat again. The sudden chill made me shiver unprepared.
I'm going offline. Before leaving, I still asked: "Kill the cockroaches? What should I do with them after killing them?"
The other party was silent for a moment and replied: "Take it to feed the cat."
"Why?" I couldn't help but be curious.
"Cockroaches are one of the greatest species on earth, having survived for 350,000 years. At that time, there were no humans, only giant primitive dragonflies hovering in the sky, but cockroaches were already spreading their wings high in the mist-filled swamps. Fly away. Cockroaches have a large amount of protein, fat, inorganic salts, and trace elements in their bodies. Feeding them to cats can help cats achieve electrolyte balance as quickly as possible."
After typing out a line of words, he disappeared. The chat room was empty except for me.
one
When I opened my eyes in horror and helplessness, I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. The fluorescent pointer faintly pointed to 3 o'clock in the morning. Wiping the cold sweat off my face, I knew that I failed again.
I don’t know when it started, but I would feel sleepy at 12 midnight every day and couldn’t restrain my desire to go to bed. Even when I'm facing a beautiful woman, I can't help but yawn and then my eyelids fight.
That's not what bothers me the most. When I fall asleep, I always have nightmares. I would always wake up with a cold sweat on my face, either being chased by a pack of dogs or dreaming of someone trying to break open my door and hearing the door lock creaking. The liquid seeping from the vest soaked my pajamas, and the clothes stuck tightly to my skin. They were sticky and greasy, making me shiver and make my hair stand on end.
Whenever I woke up from a nightmare, I would glance at the clock hanging on the wall, and every time the hands pointed to 3 a.m. without exception.
I don't know what caused this quirk, but I've always blamed it on the surgery I had for a pituitary tumor when I was 12. During that operation, the doctor made a hole in my nostril, then inserted a cold, terrifying and strange-shaped instrument into my head, and cut off an extra thing. My life was saved, but I lost the pleasure of a good night's sleep.
When I wake up, I will put on my clothes and sit in front of the computer, wandering like a ghost in the vast Internet, waiting for sleepiness to fall again, but most of the time when sleepiness falls, it will be in the morning. When a ray of sunlight shines through the window. So I would get into bed again at dawn in the morning and sleep until it was dark and I wouldn't wake up.
This quirk of mine prevented me from going out to work like a normal person, so I chose to be a freelance writer, staying in front of the computer every day and writing some boring, tear-earning articles. Fortunately, my articles were pretty good and brought me enough money to survive.
two
On this night, I woke up at 3 a.m. again. I sighed quietly and reached out to turn on the light.
Next to my bed is a floor-standing spotlight, a dark, very thin and long lamp pole, with two lamp holders in opposite directions at the top. Usually I only turn on one light because that's enough light. The lampshade is bowl-shaped, which can focus all the light in one direction, but I like to twist the lampshade toward the ceiling to let the light shine on the dark, water-stained ceiling.
When I first wake up, I like to lie flat on the bed, eyes wide open, and stare at the halo of light projected on the ceiling. The dim yellow light always makes my damn brain full of clarity, without the slightest hint of sleepiness.
But this night, when I opened my eyes and turned on the light, I stared at the ceiling, only to find that there seemed to be some blurry image moving slowly in the halo of the spotlight. It must be something very thin, because the shadows in the halo are so shallow that they are almost unnoticeable if you don't look carefully. What is this? I opened my eyes wider in curiosity, paying close attention to the moving shadows on the ceiling.
This must be something that can fly, because there are wing-like shadows fluttering in the halo, and there is also a little buzzing sound around it.
What kind of insect is it? Bugs always like to fly to places with light, and even death cannot stop their yearning for light. I almost guessed from the thin shadow that it must be the wings of some kind of wriggling insect. Under the translucent wings, there may be furry insect legs struggling hard. Its head must be strangely shaped, triangular? Is it round? Will there be a face growing on it?
I felt secretly amused by my strange thoughts. I must have read too many horror novels, right? But I became very interested in the insects in the lampshades. I leaned out of the bed, reached out to the lamp holder, and with a slight twist, I pulled down the lampshade.
At this moment, my eyes suddenly blurred, and several tiny black shadows rushed towards me with wings fluttering in front of me. Before I could tell what they were, several slimy insects landed on my face, and a faint fishy smell came to me. I subconsciously closed my eyes quickly.
Half of my face was numb, and I could almost feel the insect's powerful legs covered with tiny, barbed hairs. There are also slender tentacles that are trembling from side to side, sliding smoothly across my face. I can even feel the weak air flow brought by the tentacles. The air flow has a slight smell, like sheep urine.
A nauseating feeling surged in my stomach. I stretched out my hand and wiped it in front of my face. Several insects struggled to appear in my palm.
I looked at the insect in my hand, and the feeling of nausea became even stronger, because I had already seen what kind of insect it was.
These are several fat cockroaches with tentacles shaking!
I flipped my hand and swept these cockroaches to the ground, then stood up suddenly, stepped on them hard with my bare feet! Seeing the cockroach turned into a puddle of yellow-brown flesh, my throat began to surge.
I finished vomiting and finally staggered out of the bathroom. I don't want to lie down in bed again. Those cockroaches just now have made me completely sleepless.