This music (while being completely legendary) was suggested to me by a friend to enhance the piece due to it’s similarity… but it’s completely optional, I personally prefer it with no backing, but many of my music junky friends disagree.

They say that every night one person thinks about you as the drift off to sleep. You may never meet that person, or know their name, but for one week. I knew her.

* * *

It all began one rainy morning in September, the first day back at school. If I had paid more attention to the Gothic writers of the 19th century I would have known that something was wrong, but the drone of the English teacher is enough to put even the most hardened insomniac into a deep, deep sleep. There she stood beside the pool. Her face glowing with a hidden fire, watching intently as everyone bustled like ants in a nest, scurrying of to their lessons.

I walked across the car park towards her, the babbling throng parting, as if our meeting was written in the chronicles of fate, creating a narrow path straight to her. As I approached she spotted me. I stopped less than a meter away from her, my heart beating so hard she must have heard it. She asked my name, “Frank” I replied. Hers apparently was Belle short for Annabelle. I asked her whether she knew anyone at the school, she did not. I introduced her to my clique, Barney, Joe, Sam, Mark, John, Rose, Mima, Katherine and Anna. All were openly approving however, as I found out later, many had their concerns with our new member.

The final warning bell rang. We all split up and went our separate ways to our lessons. To my unashamed delight, twenty minutes into the lesson Belle entered the room, flanked by the deputy head. Conveniently my lab partner had left at the end of the previous year, I never really liked him, but we worked alright together. This unexpected departure meant that I was the proud owner of the only spare seat in the lab.

Never before in one day have I learnt so little yet enjoyed myself so much. Once home I was completely in a world of my own, running over the day’s events in my head and slowly associating items in the house with her. I started to drift aimlessly from TV to computer and back again, neither supplying my head with anything better than what my imagination could. My mind was completely hooked on her; she was addictive beyond anything I’ve tried, and a stimulant way more effective than caffeine. That night I was awake longer than normal. I lay there in the pitch back, my mind racing so fast I’m sure if I held a microphone to my skull you’d have thought that I was host to the next F1 Grand Prix course. Every so often I hit the light on my clock, 0:30, 1:25, 1:45, 2:00, it was as if time was slowing down for me to get to sleep. As the sky started to turn a pale pink on the eastern horizon my mind went silent, and I fell away.