No matter how uninterested some human beings can be in their immediate surroundings, it would be impossible to conceive how such people could fail to notice the Alentejo’s night sky. It was breathtaking, a flawless glass surveying the universe. Here, darkness was still free to roam about unmolested by the man-made terror of light. The uncivilised world of saturated technology was still far away, but for how long? Disturbed by these thoughts I said goodnight to the others and made my way to bed. Paradoxically, leaving the safety of their company made the surroundings appear so much darker. Perhaps a lamppost wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Anything could have lurked around about unseen. “Glorious Regents Park”. 

 It was while tumbling into the folds of sleep that a friend’s voice seemed to call out. Visions melted into one another as faces came and went. Searching through my mind, I heard a viola strike up a familiar melody. The pale vision of my musician friend came into view.

“I’ve just got the hang of this.” He laughed at the crowd gathering around.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were in Portugal.”

“I’m not,” He stated matter-of-factly, “What about the melody?”

“That’s not a melody at all,” I complained, “it’s only a single bloody note.”

“You’ve got it.” A moment later I snapped wide-awake. Sweat ran from my brow. It was close by.  

The fucker was closing in fast. At some point it intended to withdraw my precious blood and deposit an irritating bump. I swatted blindly into the air. It was no good. Past experience dictated that a defensive strategy never worked against the little vampires. I switched on the light. A dark mood settled over me. It was going to die. It had stolen my sleep and I was going to kill it even if it took all night. And just to make sure that the hunt was a success, I armed myself with a knotted sock.

“Come on then,” the irritating whine seemed to challenge. It was hungry for blood and I for revenge. I had already spotted the demon coming in low before taking a round about approach to the back of my head. The sock was useless. Keeping a lock on its position, I went in with bare hands. The mosquito was swift! It quickly gained the advantage of altitude. The tactic was simply brilliant. Speed was on the monster’s side as it swooped. We became equals locked in a deadly dance. As I whirled like a crazed Dervish, the Mosquito skilfully avoided the explosive flack of my clapping hands.

In the end there could only be one winner. The prolonged battle must have fatigued it. Already in the throws of exasperation, I watched it retreat and then settle. A foolish move, I thought. Reaching for the sock, I locked my arm into position and took careful aim. Timing was everything in situations like this. I only released my breath as the knotted weapon sprang violently from its cocked position. It hit the target with a dull thump.

I waited patiently as its body tumbled to the floor at a speed that could neither be described as floating, nor falling.  Kneeling to inspect its buckled frame, I noticed one of its legs. It was twitching. Not at all sure whether this was due to a still active nervous system, or a rude signal being conveyed in a sign language of sorts, I hit it again with the sock. Satisfied with its irrefutable demise, I turned in and blissfully drifted off to sleep.