Monica missed her weekend nap. Losing two hours to dreams in a dark, quiet room had been on of her favourite things to do in her teenage years on a Saturday.
Now there was always something to do, somewhere to go, someone to see. There were kitchens that needed cleaning, food and toilet paper to buy. Even on those rare afternoons with a free time slot, thoughts rolled around her head, and refused to let her fall into the arms of Morpheus for more than ten minutes.
After spotting the advert promising a perfect nap for only £5.99 and packaging, she saw nothing to lose. A parcel arrived two days later, just in time for the weekend. On the label was a smiling cartoon snake, tasting the air with its tongue.
Disappointment clouded Monica’s face when she pulled out what looked liked a purple scarf made of nylon, and a one sided leaflet of instructions. The leaflet told her to wrap the scarf around her head, and leave only her nose uncovered. Then she needed to lie down on the bed, and try to sleep.
Despite her doubt, she though it was worth a go. Monica lay on her bed in the darkness. After ten minutes her only reward was a terrible headache. She was about to whip the bandage off, and ask for a refund, when the pain vanished like the end of a rainstorm.
Within two minutes she was asleep.
This became her Saturday routine. She wrapped the bandage around her head like a snake, and after ten minutes of that terrible headache, her sleep began. Wonderful deep sleep that she hadn’t experienced since school. Sleep without fault.
Except that her dreams were so strange.
They were similar, but never quite the same. Darkness, and a floating strand of nylon thread. Every weekend that strand got a bit bigger, until it resembled the bandage currently wrapped around her head.
One week later, Monica slept for a full five hours. During that time a purple stream of nylon as taught and thin as wire dragged itself out of her nose. It unfolded to the same size as the bandage, and snuck out an open window.
Outside, a man honked the horn of van, and popped open the back door. The logo of a cartoon snake tasting the air adorned his crisp polo shirt. The bandage slid towards him, and hopped the back of the vehicle. Inside hundreds of its brethren writhed over each other, searching for human skin.
Back in the house, Monica dreamt of a tiny thread spinning around in the darkness. It was another perfect nap.