Mosquitoes by Marc R. Soto

Author:Marc R. Soto [Soto, Marc R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-10-21T04:30:00+00:00

15

David arrived home sick and covered in sweat. He had to cross many streets under that horrid sun and felt exhausted. His mum felt his forehead and muttered worriedly that he had a temperature. She said she was sure it was nothing serious, only mild spring flu, but she gave him a children’s aspirin and took him to his room.

He was fine in the house; it was cool in there. The sunlight filtered through the curtains. In his south-facing room, the blinds were almost totally drawn to prevent it becoming a sauna. His mum had helped him get undressed, although David complained that he didn’t need any help; he would put his pyjamas on himself. He was worried she’d see the bites on his shoulder, but when she took off his t-shirt and didn’t say anything, David looked at his shoulder and noticed that the marks had completely disappeared. Then she put clean pyjamas on him (the ones he’d folded under the pillow in the morning had disappeared, but David didn’t give it a second thought) and helped him into bed.

When he was finally alone in his room, he placed his arm on top of the duvet and waited.

The light slanted through the blinds casting dusty diagonal beams that lined the bedroom. Some parts of the room were too bright and he could hardly see anything, but others were dimly lit and David could clearly see the details in those: the Tiny Toons poster tacked to the wall, the fire engine abandoned in the other corner of the room and the door moulding. It was strange that he could clearly make out the things where the light didn’t reach, while those illuminated by the light beams that entered through the blinds were so bright that it hurt to look at them. But all that was of no real concern to David.

He was just waiting for the mosquito. He badly needed it to bite him again. He had to feel again that surge of feeling… of knowledge. He recalled how he’d felt in class during the exam: he had all the answers, that feeling of power, of... strength, of potential skills that he was only just starting to become aware of. The world before his eyes when stroking the bites was so alive, so intense... he had to feel it again, at any price.

However, the minutes went by. The silence was exasperating and his mosquito didn’t appear. Blood was circulating slowly around his body, as if it was thicker than usual. He tried to imagine what it would be like to live the rest of his life without the mosquito, without its bites, but he quickly dismissed the thought. The mosquito would return. Maybe it was still a bit early. He knew it hated the light, just as he did; maybe it wouldn’t come out of its hiding place until nightfall.

But time was dragging... The clock in the living room downstairs struck one, then half past one. Now and then he heard his mother scurrying about in the kitchen, preparing lunch.

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