It's quiet. The cars outside drive by and I can hear a television set across the street from the open window. It's humid and movement takes effort. My bed is comfortable as I lie on my side. And then a sudden, white hot pain spreads in my chest. I can't breathe. I turn over onto my back and gasp at the spinning fan. Panic attack? The pain is excruciating. My eyes close and I feel detached from myself and the panic attack passes in less than half a minute. I'm okay. All is well. I turn back onto my side, open my eyes.
He's sitting there, in a chair across the room. I sit up, ask what's wrong, but he doesn't answer. The floor seems surreal, it tilts beneath my feet. The walls bend in and out and my eyes can't adjust to the darkness, can't seem to focus. The panic attack has left me frightened, but I'm okay. I'm really okay.
I need a drink of water, so I get up, head into the kitchen. The walls are still bending funny. Maybe I should take some pain medicine for the ache in my chest.
The cupboard is fuzzy and my glass keeps slipping in my hand. I can't quite hold onto it properly. The knob on the faucet is slippery too and it escapes my grasp. Then I miss it completely. I try a few more times until I manage to fill the cup with water, but the water seems to float inside the cup.
As the water pours out of the faucet I realize how quiet it is. I can't hear the running water, the drain, or the squeak of the knob as I turn the water off.
The water is especially cold, ice water, almost frozen. I drink it quickly and put the glass back in the cupboard, and go back into the bedroom to lie down. He's here, still sitting in the chair, head hanging in shame. The bed is a mess but I get back into it and straighten it out as best as I can before I lie back down on my back, which seems oddly comfortable.
He stirs and looks up at the bed, at me. I want to say hello, but I can't force myself to speak. It's still quiet when he gets up, and that's when I see the inky black gun in his hands. He puts it on the night stand and leaves the room.
---
Unedited. Let me know if it's too vague.
Anticipation
15 years ago
4 comments:
I'd say it's perfectly vague, actually.
The information is connected and coherent, but there is just enough mystery to keep the reader creating possible scenarios in his or her head without getting any true answers.
I like it.
Great to see you writing again; your muse evidently hasn’t left you. And no, it’s not too vague (something I admit I accused you of in the past); I’m relieved to say that the penny dropped about halfway through.
That’s assuming I’ve interpreted it correctly of course – it may be I’ve read too many ghost stories and have the wrong idea altogether.
Me likey, Mikey. Very vague, but I don't have a problem with that.
Patrick didn't get it the first time, but said if he had read it once or twice more he would've gotten it.
Glad you like it.
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