Mind's Fever

[Shaman of Bliss]

Mind’s Fever

Distant thunder claps fall gently against my resting ears. A fierce crash, from within the hearth forces my eyes open. I sit up in bed, the covers glide of with a flicker of my wrist. Terror is my plight, my driving force.

“Harlan!”

My voice fraught with worry cuts through the continued banging, as the clamor of his feverous mind tries to overlap it. The halls are dark, my foot falls harshly on corners, I can feel my own blood poring over my wounds, but it matters not, he is all that matters. As the round a corner, the noise reaches a silence. At first the room is only darkness, as a distant lighting strike flares up; I see eyes turned white starring into nothing, as he lay shaking beside the guest’s bed.

“Harlan!!”

I rush to embrace him, kneeling and pulling his shaking form against my chest. I hold him close, my hand stroking his sweat moistened hair.

“Shhhh, shhh my love, Harlan…Harlan I’m here now, its okay, everything’s okay…”

More flashes, his eyes are still rolled back, his mouth covered with specks of spittle, and his own blood. A single tear falls down from my eyes, it graces his cheer. My own masculine hands hold him to me, as I whisper my promise…

“I won’t let it hurt you, I promised… remember.”

I slide a hand to his forehead, and taking a firm grasp I began the act. The energy swells like a raging storm at sea, the typhoon that is his mind. My eyes begin to roll back, my mouth twitches. His eyes settle, his shakes ease and fade to stillness. I feel my strength giving, and I fall, he falls with me.



We lay on the floor for a moment…



…and in another moment he raises his head. He looks around, then at me. My mind feels like I’m trapped in an hourglass, with sand almost burying my head. Sound is thick, sight is a luxury that I am not afforded. Noise, perhaps feeling, I’m not sure, all is nothing.

“Derrick!”

Harlan shakes his lover, watching his eyes roll back, foam seeping from his parted lips. Shaking as violently as one could, Harlan holds his fallen love.

I feel a constriction on my throat, like trying to speak through water, or bubbles.

“Wait for me…”

The words barely audible escape Derrick’s lips. Harlan moves to the phone, all the while begging him to hold on.

He dials and speaks to the operator furiously; terror is his plight, his driving force.




The void echoed with laughter, blackness, and a single flare of red, orange light. He stands facing me, an unknown stranger.

“To whom do I speak?”

My demeanor is as always, steady, and self assured. The stranger, hanging in a sea of black simply raises his right arm, pointing it at me. Pain erupts as if evisceration was my torture. Looking down, scarlet, and pink fleshy organs contrast the black of the void in which we hang. I collapse. The stranger smiles, waves his hand. Once again I am standing facing him. He smiles, raises his right hand once again. Pain erupts…



My fist plunges into his guts, blood spills out of his mouth, the smile fades, and the stranger’s eyes roll over, death gripping my tormentor. Primal strength still ripples through me, hours of his torture fuel an un-Godly strength. Strength enough to impale a man on ones arm…

“Who’s smiling now?”

The words choke through me, blood catching in my throat. Staggering I revel in my victory, more beast then man in this hour. I am covered in wounds; my left arm is merrily meat hanging by a bone. I vomit at the extreme pain. So many times I had tried to beat it, time was not linear here, how long had I been fighting?




A flare of white floods the black void; clean white tiles that make up a ceiling greet my eyes. A sickly sterile smells comes to my nose, my senses return. I move my fingers, my toes. So very stiff, I hear cracks. I move my lips, they are almost cemented together. Turning my head, I see him… Harlan, sleeping quietly on a small chair. He is leaned over onto my lap, his head cradled. I brush his hair, it seems longer then I remember. Such dark circles are upon his eyes, how long has he been waiting for me?

As my right hand, complete with I.V. brushes the stray curls from his eyes, he stirs awake. Crystal blues open from their prisons; they flare with an inner light as he sees my smile. A single tear rolls down his cheek, before he moves to embrace me. No words are spoken for a moment… his cracked voice breaks the silence, such a pleasure unto itself I have never before know.

“You told me to wait…”

He smiled slightly, as he continues his gaze into my own blue eyes. I’ve missed his eyes, he seems to have longed for mine as well.

“My love, I’ve beaten your mind’s fever…”

My mind screams slightly with the remembered trauma of the void. I push away the thought, and renew my strength in his eyes. He gently strokes my head; my own hair feels heavy, unkempt.

“You make no sense; it is an illness, not an attacker. You’re still groggy from the coma... rest my dear”

I smile; the act itself has a new diction as I reflect on the stranger, raising his hand, contrasted against a black sheet that made up my prison.

“No my love… it was both, and it is gone…”



-Shaman of Bliss

[Shaman of Bliss]

What no feed back on my piece of original writing?

[Shaman of Bliss]

So no one is even going to comment? *sigh* I guess you didn't like it, oh well. I like it, and I'm my own biggest critic.

[Heka]

dont get to upset!! i didnt know it was here. i quite like it. i like kitchen whispers better tho. but this is still good.

blessings

Heka

[Shaman of Bliss]

thanks, I'm not, I'm just what ever.