08-05-2009

Start Fiction:


     Wayne's left eye twitched. A cold chill stabbed him in the back of his neck, spreading over the back of his head. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. Trying to step forward, he fell back in to the recliner with a snap. He raised his left hand and didn't recognize it as his own, but he knew it was his. The color of the room changed and music played, as well as someone whispering in his ear.
     Oh god, it's happening, Wayne thought as he tried to take deep breaths, but realized he had no control.
     People appeared in his living room. Two individuals sat on the couch conversing. Another couple, arm in arm, simply walked through one wall, across the room and through another wall. The people didn't seem to notice Wayne or their surroundings, except for the music. All of them could hear the music.
     Wayne was paralyzed with fear, yet he wasn't afraid. He wanted to scream, but knew he was to be quiet. He felt as though he wanted to jump out the window or run out of the house, but he knew he was safe.
     The duality made him dizzy, nauseous. His head throbbed as he argued with himself inside his mind; but was he arguing with himself, or someone else? It was distinct, the voice. Confidant and commanding; wildly different than Wayne playing Devil's Advocate with himself. Familiar...
     He was returning. Wayne fought harder against his immobility, the paralysis.
     He knew this presence, this entity. He had experienced him before, his emotion, his anger. But it was always fleeting. Nothing special ever seemed to precipitate the rising, he just came on a whim, and was usually gone just as quick.
     Wayne was typically able to hold him at bay, keep him under control, but this time things felt different. He was stronger, more intense than all the previous experiences; he felt permanent.
     "Ah, cowherd," it said to Wayne. The voice was hoarse, crackly. Wayne envisioned someone awakening from a coma and the voice coming from their dry, scratchy throat.
     He did his best to ignore the voice, focusing on his movement.
     "Of course, ignore me," it said, "as if you could!"
     While Wayne was scared, uncertain, terrified even, he was also curious. He wondered what this visitor had to offer, or was coming to take. It maybe just a dream, a mild hallucination; nothing bit his imagination. The possibility of no harm to come led him to he decision to interact with this presence.
     "I know you are there," Wayne said. "What makes you stop by today?"
     "I am not just stopping by, Wayne," he said.
     "We'll see," he said. That voice sounded familiar. "What's your name again?"
     There was a pause, a slight grumble.
     "Don't be silly, Wayne," the voice said. "How could you forget me so soon?"
     At that moment, Wayne heard a woman chuckle, somewhat a echo in his mind. It gave him a chill, a slight rush of adrenaline. His face grew warm and he realized he had control over his breathing once again. A nice surprise, but an more unexpected response.
     "Who was that?" the voice growled. "There should not be anyone in here without me knowing!" Wayne could feel his anger, his chest pounded.
     "I have no idea," Wayne said as he sat up in the chair.



End Fiction.