one by one they go
petals of the same rose
you wonder if they ever existed
if you ever existed
the you they loved
are you still there now that they are gone?
or have you always been just another dream?
petals of the same rose
Category: Short story
A Complete, Thick Silence.
The fog pooled around her feet. As she stared down at it in confusion, it began to rise, encircling her legs, her stomach, her heart. Strangely, she felt no fear, just a detached acceptance. One that comes with the understanding that there is absolutely nothing one can do but surrender, come what may.
Then the fog was around her head, her mind and she was immersed in it, body and soul. A complete, thick silence. Gone were the familiar sounds of life as she knew it. The birds, the cars rushing by, the people chattering. She felt as though she stood at the edge of the world. One wrong step and she would tumble into an endless fall. Into oblivion.
All of a sudden, detachment was replaced by panic. Where was she? What was happening? She wanted her husband, her friends. She whirled around, her eyes seeking a familiar focal point. A snapshot from her life. Something to remind her of who she was.
And then she ran. Breathless, filled with dread that she would never see those familiar things again, she ran, and ran and ran. Through the fog, she thought she saw dark shadows in the distance. The silhouettes of trees, buildings, cars, people. And she ran towards those, watching in horror as she got no closer. As they vanished one by one, all eaten by the relentless fog.
Finally, she dropped to her knees, panting, out of breath, desperately seeking that calm resignation she had felt before, the state of surrender that would take away the panic. What choice did she have? She curled up in a ball and retreated deep within herself, until she was nothing but a whimper, a moan.
And slowly in that fog, she began to feel something else. Comfort, an embrace. She rose to her feet, eyes closed and breathed it in, through every pore in her flesh, every cell in her body. And suddenly it washed over her, breaking all barriers, and she gave in to the wondrous feeling of…joy. Floated in it, dwelled in it. She did not want to leave it, wanted to be with it forever.
“Honey?” A familiar voice. She opened her eyes, eyes heavy with fog, and stared at her husband, lying next to her. Sleepily she rolled over into the warmth of his arms and settled in. She was home.
But the fog stayed in her mind. A thing unfamiliar, foreign, but brimming with…hope.
Dreamsphere II: ANGRY BLASTS FROM THE BEYOND
The world lit up with sudden flashes of blinding light, like angry blasts from the beyond. Big, fat raindrops erupted in torrents, pounding a savage, primordial beat that left the soul quaking and raw.
She jerked up in bed, shaken, confused, and reached out to turn on the fan, but realized the power had gone out. The air was heavy, sweltering. It was hard to breathe. The world lit up again and she dove under the sweat-drenched sheets, covering her ears with her hands to shut out the deafening cracks in the facade of the night, the glimpses of whirling, sucking horror that lay beneath. But when they came, her hands were no protection. They drilled through her head mercilessly, splitting, shattering. She tossed and turned under the covers, and finally fell into a turbulent sleep.
But there was no rest in sleep that night. She dreamed that someone lay next to her on the bed. He lay on his side, with his back to her. Something sprouted in the bottom of her gut like mold and worked its way up to her heart, clutching, squeezing. When he turned his head slowly to face her, his teeth jutted out of his mouth in a gruesome parody of a grin, and his soulless eyeballs shifted in bony eye sockets. She stared at him, telling herself that this was a dream, that it wasn’t real; it couldn’t be. It was the effect of the storm.
Suddenly she felt herself being seized by her nightgown in the back of her neck. And something sinister began throbbing in the room. Her skin crawling with fear, heart thudding painfully against her ribs, she felt herself being lifted up, up, off the bed, all the way to the ceiling. Now she was looking down at the thing on her bed, held up by the scruff like a defenseless kitten. The thing stared up at her, grinning the whole time, and the room continued oozing with something menacing, malevolent.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered, head and limbs dangling from the ceiling.
All of a sudden she plummeted to the bed with a force that knocked the wind out of her. She lay there for a few minutes, eyes closed, catching her breath, then opened her eyes and looked around tentatively for the thing lying next to her. It was gone.
Leaping out of bed, she ran to the window and threw it open. It was daylight. Somehow she had slept through the night. The sun was coming out, beaming warmth, reassurance. The air was pungent with the sweet aftermath of a cleansing rain. Shrubs and trees danced with new life, and the gentle, herby smell of chrysanthemums saturated the air.
She breathed deeply, filling every pore, every cell in her body with that smell and that warmth, and slowly exhaled.
Zealous Arts Graphic Design 