No escape.
I open my eys. There are colours blinding my sight, swirling round and round into a swirl of mixed
emotion that builds on my fear until I loose my patience.
I hold my breath, telling myself that there is no need to be afraid, that no harm is going to befall me.
Though I am wrong.
I first noticed the man the second time I opened my eyes after I was admitted.
I was scared that night, and cold. Wrapped in the arms of my soft sweet mother, inhaling her breate as
she breathed against me. Cooing softly and murmuring in my dark hair.
He was lean, tall, brooding and dark. His chin was set at an angle that told me if I made one false
move I would be doomed. His eyes were a mixed masterpiece of greens, browns and marones. Like
the colour of bark on a wet tree with centepieds, spiders and rodent butterflies swarming in on it for the
attack.
My eyes were a pale bue like chipped ice waiting to cool.
I did not trust this mans eyes.
He was wearing a white jacket, with trousers that did not match. His shoes were leather, smart, and
seemed too good for him.
My life was all about matching, and this man did not fit in. So he irritated me, day in, day out. Folding the
irritaion in half to trick me, then unfolding it again when he was satisfied I was vulnerable. I thought this crude
and weak so I laughed inside because I had found the pit of his plan and it failed.
Though he did not seem to notice.
I don't think he noticed me at all. What I did to myself and how I did it was a mystery to him, I thought.
He was silent, and never asked me to stop. This was odd.
He was certainly not ordinary like all the others. He just watched. Patiently, carefully, quietly, undisturbing
my peace. In a way, this frightened me, though I never spoke it.
I blinked, once, twice, I never knew, though somehow that disturbed him and he floated over to my bedside.
He was like a wrath or a spirit, the way he moved. So quietly, as if he didn't want you to know he was there.
He had in his hand a needle, with blue liquid stirring inside. Strange, that it should be blue, and not the
cream coloured one I was used to.
I remember that needle so clearly like the freckles on my nose. It was pumped into my every day, disturbing
the peace of my bloodstream.
My eyes had recently declined normal sight and so it was hard to see what exactly was in the needle
that was soon to be pumped into my body. All I knew was that it was blue and there was something
different about it than my regular needle injections.
I could not say that I was afraid, because there was no fear in my eyes. I was simply curious and a
little stressed. Who was this man with the strange eyes and where was my regular doctor?
What was he doing in my room and why?
He was walking towards me now, and as I edged my way up the bed I could see the laughter,
see the smile in his eyes. It was like he wanted to give me the needle, like he wanted harm
to fall apon me. I was deathly afraid, because I knew the needle would not cure my pain.
I knew it would only bring it on, laughing at me with cruelty in his eyes.
For the uptenth time I brought myself to think about why I was here in the first place. I knew it had
something to do with the progress I hadn't made, though my memory was quite vague and I had long
ago forgotton to remember to remember.
This disturbed me as I was never the type to forget. Even as a small girl I could always remember my
mothers shopping list, or memorise clearly the words of my favourite songs without a second thought.
I could remember my mother so clearly, small, shy, though strong in her own way.
I remembered the pale amber of her hair, the small unnoticible sunspots sprinkled on her cheeks
like raindrops scattered on the leaves of sunflowers.
I could remember her smell, the sweet purfume and purity of her face. It dawned on me that I would
never see her again, never hear her childish laughter or hear her moan about the things she did for me.
Never again would I see her face.
I could not remember why I was here and who brought me. I could only remember the fresh linen on the bed
and the sunlight plastered on my face each morning whilse I was lying awake trying my hardest not to breathe.
It was daunting and I couldn't take it any more.
My eyes darted towards the man who was gently pressing the needle into my arm, watching my eyes to see
if he could find my fear. I knew he wanted to, and he was well aware that I knew that. Though he remained silent,
something which I had worked out he mastered.
My breathing was slower now, I could feel it as the man removed the needle. His eyes were staring into mine,
watching as they moved rappidly from side to side. The mixed masterpiece of greens, browns and marones were
slowely fading to blacks, greys and silvers.
No colour could be viewed by my eyes any longer. It was as if I was blind to colour, like a switch was turned off
inside my eyes.
I felt so afraid.
Slowely, ever so slowley my vision flickered, wavered and suddenly ceased. There was no more vision,
and no more sound that I could hear.
I had been swallowed by the darkness, the shaddows of the forrests, the shade overlapping me and calling my name,
gently pulling the threads of my soul towards it.
There was no escape.
Kay, i really like that! its creepy, and very haunting. I like the description and the poetry in it.
its interesting the way you have written it. i cannot put my finger on it, but it seems to be in the present tense. that adds to the sense of now and the reality you have created.
well done. sorry this is a short review. i'll have to have another read later and post again, but i really like it.
MK
Thanks!
I wrote it a while ago, it's in my fictionpress, but i thought i should put it up here.