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Black Walls

A

short story by Erkut Gultekin

I. The arrival

This story starts where others end. Our protagonist Eric, who for the purpose of keeping this story’s length limited to five chapters, is your average thirtysomething years old ginger bearded man who recently had a divorce, decided to quit his job and sold everything he owned, except for his car. A dark green Volkswagen Golf. As happy and free as ever, Eric now lived on his savings, not worrying too much about the future. He was road tripping for a while now, call it soul-searching if you like. An average man and his car.

Having arrived at a motel after driving for more than eight hours straight, Eric left his car at the parking lot, made sure he had all of his belongings with him and said goodnight to his loyal travel companion. He decided he wouldn’t spend yet another night sleeping in the car because the last two nights of doing so left him with a sore neck. A proper bed would be nice for change. And 24/7 Motel, which was – believe it or not - the actual name of this motel, supposedly had one of those.

Eric entered when he was greeted by a salt-and-pepper haired man with a somewhat forced smile at the hotel’s reception. The forced smile was not much of a surprise knowing that it was already almost midnight when Eric entered the Motel and asked the price of a basic single room to spend the night. A reasonable price with no need to negotiate led him to take out his card and agree to pay. No way back now, he thought, though all he was there for was a nice and warm shower and a good night’s rest. Being guided by the receptionist, who when standing up looked a lot shorter than when he was sitting behind the reception desk, Eric entered his room.

He thanked the short greyish haired receptionist, whose name as mentioned on the name tag he was wearing was Bill, and gave him a small tip. The room was fancier than first expected, with black walls and golden colored curtains. The bathroom was speckless, as if cleaned by someone with an eye for every single detail. A good deal after all. Eric immediately decided to lock the door, take off his clothes and have a long, satisfying shower. It was only when he got out of the bathroom that he noticed the minibar loaded with small liquor bottles and soda cans. A whiskey on the rocks set the mood for bedtime reading as he was slowly dozing off into sleep. Lights off.

II. The unwanted visitor

Past midnight, his eyes closed, Eric’s mind decided to hop on a train of thoughts. It took him back to the places he’d visited and people he’d met on the way in the past months. The interesting and enlightening conversations he had with hitchhikers, magazine workers, other travelers, women he’d spend the night with and friends he’d made. And how all of these places, people and conversations left their impressions on him. How in tens of years from now on, he’d look back on this road trip and smile. A wholesome journey. His body now feeling more relaxed with the second, Eric knew he would be fast asleep in a matter of seconds. Until another entity made its presence clear.

A mosquito had entered the room, or had already been there before Eric’s arrival. In that case Eric had entered the mosquito’s room. Our protagonist believed he’d be asleep by the time that he’d actually be annoyed by the visitor’s presence. He was sincerely hoping that the mosquito would only start biting or stinging him when he was fast asleep. Though in reality, mosquitoes don’t bite, nor do they sting. They stick a needle in human and other animal bodies and suck their blood out. Although this detail is irrelevant for this story’s further development, this was a female mosquito. Because among mosquitoes, only the females feast on blood. They need the blood to produce eggs.

Male mosquitoes however, feed on plant juices such as nectar. This they do to obtain the sugar that serves as their source of energy. Both male and female mosquitoes buzz, while the females produce a higher sound. The male’s buzzing – technically speaking – is hearable for the human ear, but this encounter is rather rare because males will keep away from people and animals. Thus we can assume that the mosquito that our protagonist was hearing, was a female mosquito. Its sole purpose that night, was to obtain enough blood to produce eggs. It was patiently waiting in that specific room of Motel 24/7 until a passerby would come. That passer-by happened to be Eric. Now dozing off, but slightly aware of her presence.

Eric tried. He tried not to care too much about the buzzing that was now fading, then higher again. To then fade and be louder again. There was something about its frequency. The more he decided not to focus on the buzzing, the more he actually got obsessed with it. The mosquito was now approaching him. Ever the closer. Eric didn’t move, paralyzed by the mosquito’s guts. How dare she. Why couldn’t she wait for him to be asleep to only then show up. Its buzzing now ever the more present. Eric decided to get his entire body, including his head, underneath his blanket. Maybe then the mosquito would think it wouldn’t stand a chance and fly away. This technique, however, didn’t work because he was sweating and suffocating due to the lack of oxygen.

Another fact about female mosquitoes, a bit more relevant to the story’s development, is that they’re attracted to the lactic acid and ammonia found in human transpiration. While Eric was thinking he was making himself invisible to the mosquito with this move, he was making himself more and more attractive to her. The whiskey on the rocks he drank and enjoyed until the last sip might have helped him fall asleep in a different story. But in this one, it only made him

transpire more. To the mosquito, Eric was now what a glass of water is for a marathon runner in a desert. Who runs a marathon in the desert you might ask, but that too, is another story. That story’s spatiotemporal setting is not a summer’s night in the 24/7 Motel but a six-day 250 kilometers circuit in the heart of the Moroccan Sahara.

Eric gave up and took his head out of the blanket. Now finally able to breathe. His forehead and armpits slightly wet from the sweating. He closed his eyes again, the buzzing once again invading his peace of mind. This time he tried to meditate. Meditate his way into a different place than the basic single room of the 24/7 Motel. It’s not too bad, he convinced himself. Only a mosquito keeping him from sleeping. Not the first time in his thirty-something years of existence that this happened, most probably not the last time either. For a moment he even developed sympathy for the mosquito. It probably had been waiting for its portion of fresh, juicy blood for a while now. Why not just suck his blood and be done with it, though?

And so that’s what he decided to be his new plan. He’d unwrap himself of the blanket that was covering almost his entire body except for his arms and head. Then he’d close his eyes, not move a single limb, and let the mosquito come to whatever part of his body that she desired her portion of blood from. And once he had felt the operation was done, he’d have an itchy spot on that specific part of his body, he’d close his eyes again to finally fall asleep. Eric waited patiently. Seconds became minutes and turned into hours. At least that’s what it felt like. The buzzing intensified, circled around his head. From his left ear to his right and then to the left ear again. From his head to his toes and then to his head again. On and on it went. Until he felt a sudden itch on the outer palm of his left hand. At last!

III.

The battle goes on

Never before in his life had Eric been this happy with a mosquito bite. The feeling of happiness lasted for a while as Eric now didn’t hear the mosquito’s buzzing anymore. He covered himself under the blanket again to finally enter the wondrous world of dreams. He would now think of nothing. Nothing at all and only focus on his breathing. And so our hero finally fell asleep. He even had a dream about being in mathematics class. His teacher, a balding fifty-year-old wearing red squared glasses, a brown sweater with what seemed like a boring yet casual shirt underneath, was not a stranger to Eric. It was his famous high school teacher Mr. Dorian. Somehow he infiltrated our hero’s dream. Not the first time that this happened.

Eric was asked a question. Eric, I see you’re dreaming again, son. Square root of 256? 16! He answered proudly as to cover up for his lack of attention. I asked the square of 196, not 256! Eric could’ve sworn that Mr. Dorian had said 256. Suddenly the class room transformed into the inside of the school bus. The class was on their way to a zoo nearby. Eric was principally against zoos, the whole keeping animals captivated for human’s diversion kind of thing. Once having arrived and entered, the class was freely roaming around in groups of two. Eric’s assigned partner was Angelique. The beautiful Angelique with the long, blond hair. Reddening cheeks every time she spoke. A soft, shy and innocent voice that sounded like angels singing in choir, from heaven descending. A scent that reminded him of a garden full of fresh roses and lavenders in Spring.

If it wasn’t for his assigned partner, Eric would’ve gotten a doctor’s notice and skipped today’s school trip. Yet here he was, watching animals with Angelique. Let’s check out the monkeys, she said. And Eric followed, of course. Whatever his muse wanted. Whatever kind of animals in prison her mesmerizing ocean blue eyes wanted to watch, Eric was fine with. Look how funny they look, she said. And indeed they looked funny. With their tails wiggling, holding their little booklets and pencils. Their squared red glasses on their little heads with hairy faces. From the tops of their heads, they were balding slowly but steadily. They were dressed in a somewhat familiar way, thought Eric. There’s just something about their brown sweaters and the boring yet casual shirts underneath.

One of the little monkeys approached Eric, making a gesture that seemed like asking for food. Yet this wasn’t the gesture of asking for food, this was the gesture of asking a question. What’s the square root of 256, son? Eric wanted to answer 16 but didn’t have the chance. The school’s bell was ringing. He was in the class room again. Recess time? Funny sound it’s making. No one’s moving in class. Everyone suddenly turns their heads to Eric, watching him, his every move. He’s the main center of attention. With everyone quiet, the bell’s sound ever the more louder, ever the more present. There’s something off about its ringing sound. Louder and louder. Closer and closer. Only It’s not a ringing kind of sound, rather a buzzing kind of sound. Buzz, buzz!

IV. The hunting and grunting

Eric is now awake again. Eyes open, though with the deep darkness in the room he’s not able to see much. Making grunting sounds with every move, he reaches for the night table to his right. Aims for the lamp’s light switch and turns it on. It’s too much, too bright. Forcing him to close his eyes again. Desperately, he cries out why he can’t just enjoy a nice night of sleep without interruptions. His hunter’s instinct now stronger with the second. He offered a peaceful solution to the mosquito, a pact. Offered his blood, but she came for more. No more mercy, he said to himself. No more mercy. And he opened his eyes again, regardless of the burning sensation that his eyes underwent during the process.

Slowly getting his eyes accustomed to the light, he looks around him. Maybe the mosquito will be close. But she’s not. She’s standing still on one of the walls probably. The dark, black walls. A perfect way for her to camouflage. Who on earth with a right mind paints the walls of their bedroom black? Our hero thought. And even though he’ll never know, this color was decided by the owner of the 24/7 Motel in order to avoid painting the walls over and over again. The paint on the walls wear off with all the coming and going in motel rooms. Sure, the rooms might look smaller this way, but in combination with golden accents such as lamps and curtains, the black walls will look fancy. And this decision years ago in the past was giving our protagonist a hard time at this very moment.

Eric rolled out of his bed. Okay, mosquito. It’s just you and I now. He stood still. His breathing in and out the only sound. No buzzing as of yet. He was looking around. Damned black walls. You can’t spot a thing. Yet he was focused. Focused on staying still. The mosquito would give in to temptation at some point. Sooner or later, only a matter of time. A game of patience. Eyes closed, his left foot now twitching from the staying still. For what felt like eternity. Breathing exercises. Do not give up now, you’re very close. In from the nose, out from the mouth. In from the nose, out from the mouth. And repeat. Open eyes. Buzzing sound. She’s close.

She’s on the move. Slowly approaching Eric. Testing her limits. Our hero knows his moment will come. His chance will arrive soon. And he’ll take it. With both hands. Buzz. Coming closer and closer now. Buzz. Must be somewhere above his left ear. Buzz. Circling around his head. Buzz. Getting lower now. Buzz. Right ear. Buzz. Lower and lower. Buzz. Right in front of him. The mosquito flies right in front of him. About half an arm’s length away. Buzz. Slowly our hero prepares for his swift attack move. Hands wide open. Buzz. Prepared to clap. Clap his hands together with the mosquito in between. Buzz. Clap as hard as he can. Buzz. Clap! The buzzing stopped. It must’ve worked. Could it have? Excited, with big eyes and a wide smile he opens his hands and watches his inner palms. Empty. Buzz. Grunt.

What are we anyway

The short feeling of excitement made place for a longer one of resentment. Our hero’s big eyes were now smaller and his smile gone. Another battle lost. But there might be lessons hiding in this experience after all. Tired, Eric rests himself on the bed again. His back on the surprisingly comfortable mattress, observing the ceiling fan above. The golden ceiling fan. Everything else but the walls in this room is colored in gold, Eric now notices. An interesting taste, very much different than his. But what is taste anyway, if not an expression at a given time of a certain person. What are we anyway, if not the result of our past choices. Walking personifications of cause and consequence. How different am I really, than this mosquito I’m chasing in this motel room. Who’s doing the chasing anyway, if she’s trying to feed off my blood? If she’s the one keeping me awake?

Humans tend to forget. That we’re smaller than we think we are. That we have less power over things happening than we think we have. You can have all the money in the world. Have a luxurious seaside villa, living the dream that you’ve worked so hard for to realize. Finally moved in, a day ago. Finished the paperwork regarding insurance policies, just in case. Watching the coming and going of the waves from the panoramic window of your golden cage. The sun’s setting coloring the ocean’s reflection a satisfying red. Until the universe suddenly decides to turn one of those precious waves you’re admiring in a tsunami. And the tsunami takes your home with you in it. Water fills your villa so fast that you don’t have the slightest chance of escape. Water fills your lungs so fast that you don’t have the slightest chance of survival. Your life flashes you by. A successful life with many accomplishments, many milestones reached. The life of a hard worker who now finally would have gotten the rest he deserved all along.

How different am I really, than this mosquito I’m chasing in this motel room. If one day I too will die. If death is waiting around the corner, not only for this mosquito. But also for me? For all of us. If the mosquito’s sole purpose is survival and reproduction, then aren’t mosquitoes and humans in fact way more similar than one might first assume? We make up constructs like career and success. To give meaning to life, something that is too complicated for us to understand anyway. Life is a gift and we should live the present as if it were a present. Rather than harming ourselves and others, we should start healing ourselves and others. Buzz.

There it is, the familiar sound. Buzz. There she comes again. Closer and closer. Still not visible, but very much hearable. Buzz. Breathe in, breathe out. She must be somewhere near his left ear again. Buzz. There she is. Flying right above our hero’s head. Slowly, without making a sound he brings his arms closer. Palms of his hands both wide open. Clap. The buzzing stopped. Eric opens his palms again and watches the mosquito, now dead, covered with his blood that she feasted on a while ago. Lights off. Eyes closed, one last thought enters Eric’s mind before falling into a long, deep and uninterrupted sleep. Who on earth with a right mind paints the walls of their bedroom black?

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