Sleep Disorders

Chapter 6

Grace 🌸

Every year towards the end of Autumn, our town hosts the Annual Autumn Charity Festival. The excitement is evident throughout the town as it draws nearer and nearer to festival time. Each year the money raised at the festival goes towards a different charity. This year the charity being supported is The Yolanda Blue Charity Fund (TYBCF). It is a local, charitable organization that is well known for running the Yolanda Blue Medical Centre, Yolanda Blue Animal Shelter and Yolanda Blue's Little Smiles Orphanage. TYBCF also organizes many charity fun runs, fundraisers and food drives for the needy. Yolanda Blue may have passed away but her legacy still remains.

"I think I'm going to volunteer to run a stall at this year's Autumn Festival," my mom said one morning. She was reading a pamphlet announcing this year's Annual Autumn Charity Festival. The mayor had theses pamphlets handed out yesterday and they littered the streets like strewn confetti. I looked up from my bowl of cereal.

"Why?" I asked, incredulous.

"Why not?" she replied, putting down the pamphlet.

"I think it's a great idea," my dad said. He stood up from his seat at the head of the table and took his empty cereal bowl and coffee mug to the kitchen, dropping it at the sink with a clatter. He returned with a smile on his face. "I think it's a good thing that your mom wants to do something for charity, because she spends too much time cooped up indoors looking after you.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't need looking after," I grumbled. My dad picked up his briefcase and folded the newspaper that he had been reading over breakfast.

"I'm off to work," he said, giving us each a peck on the cheek before walking towards the door.

"Enjoy your day!" my mom called after him.

"You too!" he replied. The front door slammed and I was left alone with my mother who was scrutinizing the pamphlet once again.

"What will you sell?" I asked.

"Well, I was thinking of baking some cakes. Maybe I could make some homemade fudge and chocolate brownies? Or how about those mini cupcakes I made for your birthday one year? I can make a delicious orange cake and banana loaf and apple crumble and creamy milk tart cups and-"

"Woah mom! Slow down," I said with a laugh, "Mrs Elliot from the bakery usually runs the cake stall."

My mom was pensive for a moment. "Cookies!" she exclaimed, "that's what I'll sell. I actually have some new biscuit recipes that I want to try out and I saw these plastic cookie jars on sale that will be perfect to sell them in. I can also do individually wrapped cookies and gift packs in handcrafted baskets. We've always been wondering what what we should do with all those baskets from the big Easter egg hunt we had when you were younger." My mom stood up and continued talking about plans for her stall as she cleared the breakfast table. "I have to give the festival planning committee a call immediately so that I can book a stall." She went off to make the phone call. I shook my head at her enthusiasm.

Festival time used to be one of my favourite times of the year. There's always game booths, competitions to be won, music by small bands and musicians from local and surrounding areas, yummy food, clothing, books and crafts on sale and generally lots of fun and entertainment for everyone in town. I was always excited and highly anticipated the festival. My favourite part was always the evening firework display. After we watched the sky burst into a million bright colours, like shooting stars, everyone would light paper lanterns and let them float up into the night. It was always so beautiful and it never failed to amaze me. At school we would help paint banners and signs and make things to sell for charity. But I don't go to school anymore and I haven't been to the festival in two years, ever since the accident...

I stood up and took my empty cereal bowl to the kitchen. I poured me a glass of orange juice and drank in a few large gulps. I could feel the Hypersomnia demon creeping up on me, threatening to drag me into it's sleep prison. I could feel it behind my eyes, tugging at my lids with it's sharp claws of tiredness. I washed out my empty glass and bowl and placed them on the rack to dry. A yawn escaped my lips and I felt the tiredness more persistent now, even though I had only been awake for about two or three hours. I dragged my feet towards my room. My mom was still on the phone and I passed her in the hallway as I made my way towards the stairs leading to my bedroom. Once I got to my room, I crashed onto my still unmade bed. My eyes began to close.

And once again I succumbed to the demon called Hypersomnia.