|A Waking Nightmare (standard:horror, 1407 words)|
|Author: Cyrano||Added: Dec 10 2007||Views/Reads: 1907/1052||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|We do it every day...and every day we get lucky...or not! Don't do it... that's the message.|
The velvet-soft voice sounds somehow hollow, distant, like a calling from beyond with rosy lips and swifter than the wind. ‘Can you hear me...you're okay, gently now, don't struggle, you've been involved in an accident. Just relax, you're coming round nicely.' I feel her pat the back of my palm. That first muddled thought ‘accident' tumbles round my head, repeating itself. The soft, orange radiance becomes a bright, hurtful light as I squint my eyelids open. ‘Accid...accident' I stammer, giving audible sound to the thought. I feel no pain, just numbness, almost euphoria. ‘You're doing fine.' Replies a softly spoken, reassuring voice. I feel the back of my hand being caressed, and glance up. The woman, rosy cheeked, is looking down at me; head tilted, wearing a white nursing cap on curly brown hair. Her hazel tinted eyes, alight and smiling. ‘You're okay; we've given you a little something to help you relax. She takes my hand in her fingers, as fragile as bellflowers, and floats them on the back of my palm. ‘You feel panicked, I'm sure, maybe not feel your legs, but everything is as it should be, do you understand?' I hadn't thought about it, but she's right, there's no sensation in my legs. Paralyzed? The word pierces my mind, like an arrow splitting an apple, and a watery sensation floods into my eyes. ‘Trust me, everything will be normal soon.' She says, assertively. I feel a mask of black velvet descend and I shudder. ‘Sir... sir...' she repeats, bringing me out of mental grave. ‘I have a police officer here who needs to ask you a few questions, okay? Just stay relaxed, it will only take a couple of minutes.' Fear's persistence is numbing, a cool awful reality. There's no sensation below my waist. ‘Sure, I'm okay. I am okay, aren't I?' ‘Absolutely. Breath deeply. I'll be right here.' She smiles and makes a beckoning motion with a movement of her head. I grip her fingers tightly. Before seeing the policeman, I hear his voice... ‘Hello,' it says. With that cigarette rasp. ‘I'm sorry to see you this way but it's important I ask you some questions. The nurse here tells me you're doing okay, out of danger. That's good.' Then I see him at my feet. I never saw a man who looked with such an accusing eye. ‘I can't feel my legs, sir.' The nurse quickly chimes in. ‘You will, I promise you, just a few more minutes, that's all, and your legs will be fine. Please relax and answer the policeman's questions.' ‘Policeman?' I suddenly thought. I didn't consider, don't understand, didn't realise until that second and then, seeing his uniform, a cap under his right arm, a notebook in his left hand, white shirt, black tie, looking smart, official and authoritive. I shrink as though ice were trickling down my spine. ‘Do you remember anything of the accident, sir?' He asks, looking down at his notebook, pencil poised. It takes me a moment. ‘No, no, I don't.' ‘Do you recall leaving home this morning?' The very word ‘morning' reminds me instantly that I have no idea of Click here to read the rest of this story (123 more lines)
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