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The darkness was everywhere. I think I was somewhere in-between, not quite asleep but not quite awake. Not matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pry open her eyes. I had thoughts and images in my mind, as if conscious, but nothing could be seen.

"Is she going to be alright, doctor?" I heard mother.

All I could hear were voices. Muffled voices, like through a thin wall, or through water. When they spoke, the darkness dissipated a bit. I still couldn't see, but its as if the sounds summoned lights from behind a veil. Muffled, like the voices, but I could not deny the light was there.

"Its hard to say. I've never seen anything like this before. It doesn't seem to be doing her any harm, aside from a social or psychological impact. In fact, she may even be physically better because of her condition. I have hundreds of people tell me they don't feel like they get enough sleep before the Dawn, and they yearn for the ability to just get an extra twenty."

"But I'm worried about her. I've never heard of such a... condition."

"That's because there hasn't ever been a documented case of someone sleeping beyond the Dawn for over three hundred years. Before the bombs fell." his tone was scientific and cold, but after a few moments of silence it changed, "I know you're worried. You're supposed to be. You're her parents and you love her. I don't see any reason why she cannot stay at home over the next few months. If her sleep state progresses further, say, into the early morning by a few more hours, let us know. We may be able to take her to the State Hospital for observation where she will be safe, especially at Night."

"Thank you doctor. Just the idea of her being awake while the rest of us sleep... all alone. I simply cannot bear it."

"You will not have to bear it alone, if it comes to that. The State Hospital has some cameras that can serve as our eyes at Night. We'd be able to see everything she does, even communicate a bit with her, if need be. Just do all you can to make sure she stays in high spirits. It would be a shame to see such a lovely young girl fall into a depressive loneliness."

"I will. Thank you doctor."

The voices went silent, and the darkness returned. I wished I could just fall asleep.
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Dearest Diary, sole companion in these woeful times, nonspeaking hearer, loving spy, and unabashed pauper of flimsy cheap paper,

Greetings! This is my first entry, and it is only customary that introductions are in order. My name is Caraline Theanin of the family Farmour Theanin, and you are my diary. Most people just call me the simplified Cara. I do not have a name for you, for I am told it is not appropriate to give names to books, but seeing as how I have no one else to talk to, I imagine it wouldn't be beyond my scruples to at least imagine you were slightly more human than you are. Because I am very much alone, and I grow more so each passing Dawn.

You were a gift from my mother, a loving woman but quite a doter. She fears that I am slipping into a sort of "depressive loneliness" because of my "condition." I suppose I should take a moment to explain. You see, I sleep longer than most. Or perhaps I am awake longer... I don't really know which it is. In any case, I am awake while all others on this planet sleep through the Night. It was only for a few minutes at first. I still remember when I was a young girl thinking something was wrong with me. I would get very hungry lying in bed, knowing I was supposed to be asleep, and I would get up to fetch some bread, only to have the Sleep come onto me right there in the kitchen. Father had a fit thinking I had choked and died right there the following Dawn, when everyone awoke and I did not. At least, not right away. I woke up that morning to some bread in my mouth and six faces with the most horrid looks staring down at me. That is not a proper way to start a day!

But now I stay awake through the Night for hours. I imagine I sleep through half the day now, and I'm awake for half the night. It was all very annoying initially, but this chance ability has turned me into quite the celebrity in hospitals and State governments. Everyone wants to know: how does little Cara stay awake?

I would rather be known for some stroke of genius, or perhaps as a beloved author, but alas! My fame is as an oddity. I've been to the doctor countless times, both asleep and awake. I remember very little of those encounters, though. I've even been told I've been seen by one of the Elder physicians! I only wish it was for something where I had a little more control, not a strange happenstance of fate, a malady, but rather my beauty, or perhaps my wonderful wit.

Do not let my charming humor deceive you. I'm really quite scared. Tomorrow... everything changes. I have to go to live at the State Hospital, where lots and lots of doctors with lots and lots of stethoscopes and needles can watch me to their heart's content, trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Why I sleep so differently, and I imagine to interview me. Asking me questions about the Night and all. Because apparently, there's been no human being who has ever seen what the Night is like since the bombs fell, save for a very few Elders. But I don't want to answer any questions. I don't want to live in a room and never leave, eternally watched and studied by old devices and old doctors. Why can't I just be Cara, the strange girl who sleep oddly, but never hurts anyone otherwise?

But you, dear diary, were a birthday present, something to prepare me for the move and transition to the solitary life. I have been encouraged, now that I am the mature age of fourteen, to start writing and reading more, while exploring and rabble-rousing less. While I do enjoy a good story, nothing quite compares to going out and making your own adventure, or so I say. But, I am told by "those wiser than you" as father would put it that if I were meant to live adventures, then the adventures would find me, and it was foolish for me to look for them "before they were ready for the storm that is Caraline."

Father may be right. Even now, I'm at the doorstep of a grand new adventure, traveling to unknown places to make fantastic new discoveries about myself, and all I'm doing is shaking in my boots and pouring my feelings onto a few morsels of paper.

Perhaps that is enough for one day. I have yet to say my goodbyes before everyone Sleeps, and when I wake I will be somewhere unfamiliar. I imagine we may spend a significant more time together, dear diary, as I have already been promised sufficient paper and writing materials for my stay at the Hospital. It was a pleasure to meet you, and here is good fortune to our next meeting!

And I have decided to call you Edward. I hope you like it.