During the day we manage to forget about them.
The heat warms up the air and our mood, nature sings with joy, our hearts get lighter, there's no room left for dread. As the sun sets, the world becomes peacefully quiet. After the day's excitement, life retreats to savour the night's chill.
Meanwhile, we wretched souls are not granted this sweet lull and another kind of chill trickles down our spine, stinging like needles between our vertebrae for we know they're waiting in the dark to fall upon us mercilessly. We strive to remain alert but they know exhaustion will seize us. They know that soon enough, their time will come to sneak upon us in the vulnerability of our sleep.
One by one, in every home, they attack. It always start quietly yet no less vile but soon a blood frenzy will take hold of them. No one will be spared, they bare no distinction and have no sense of pity. They're sharp and precise but never satiated, they will come and come at you again. We don't know why they can't simply strike at once, perhaps they feed on our pain and insanity too.
Thus will the night go. Every time we collapse with fatigue despite the agony, they will assault and taunt and torture, on and on until finally, they withdraw with daylight. Once again mosquitoes have ruined your night.
