I still don’t have a title for it but here’s a re-post of the short story I’m working on.
I can’t understand it… This sense of floating… in nothingness. I mean, absolute nothing. There’s no sound – unless I just can’t hear anymore. I can’t see or smell anything, come to think of it – if I am actually thinking – I’m not even sure I can feel in this….emptiness. I’m just… “here”, whatever that means.
I try to move my limbs – legs first – but seem to be, I guess “stuck” is the best word to use. I try to use my neck, my eyes. That’s when I realize that my eyes have been closed this whole time, and yet, I still can’t open them! So I focus on this sensation on my eyes and slowly, I begin to gain small bits of feeling in the rest of my body.
That’s when I sense some…thing near me. I continue to struggle against this numb feeling as the being…floats around me.
Is it inspecting me? I can’t hear it, or maybe it’s that silent?
Before I could process this situation, my entire body seizes up and I realize I can’t breathe. A voice booms from that silent figure saying “no” and my body seizes again, making me suddenly sit up and finally open my eyes, letting nothing but bright light penetrate the opaque surroundings I was inhabiting earlier.
I cover my eyes immediately, falling to my side as I try to squeeze the shock of this sudden shift out of my senses. At this moment – as if a switch was flicked on – my other senses begin to operate.
“But…but I checked his pulse!” said a voice. “The som’bitch was dead, look at the blood, see the holes in his shirt?”
Wormeye? I ask but I can’t say whether that was outside of my head or not. I cough and spit some thick red fluid and force my mouth open to ask again.
“Where am I?” I can feel that this one was out loud.
I rub my eyes and realize that more than just voices are bouncing inside my head. There’s a loud screeching alarm or something echoing in the background getting louder as it rattles my brain.
“AHH!” I grab my head, closing my eyes as tight as possible trying my best to battle the relentless percussive rhythm.
“Whoa there buddy, calm down,” a second voice says to me as the screech gets louder and louder.
“Don’t touch him! He might be…,” the first voice exclaims.
“Might be, what? A ghost? A goddamn zombie? Come on,” the second responds, placing his hands on me to calm me down.”
“Th-the noise! It hurts! Make it stop!”
I scream; shaking my head, rocking in place with my hands on my head, elbows clinching my knees and my head shoved in between them.
“Jesus, Greg, can you get them to turn that shit off? Where are they anyway?” The second voice questions.
The sirens finally release their grasp on my eye as I hear a vehicle approach me. I slowly open one eye, attempting to adjust to the brightness.
“Where am I?” I ask again, looking into the eyes of a man wearing a suit.
“You’re in _____. On ______ Street,” he answers. “Do you have a name?”
What? Duh, I think, what kind of dumbass question…wait.
“It’s, um,” I hesitate. “I think it’s…Marcus. Marcus Gutierrez,” I answer half-sure this is my name.
“Do you know how you got here…in this condition?” Greg asks.
“Condition?” I look around to see EMTs exiting the ambulance vehicle I didn’t see pull up.
Gazing down, I discover the atrocious mess on my torso.
“What the-!” I yell at the odd sight.
My lucky blue t-shirt was destroyed, there’s what appears to be bloodstains with their point of origins being the several holes that’ve demolished “ol’ Faithful”. I follow some of the stains towards my jeans and curiously, I turn to see a giant puddle of blood. MY blood, where I was lying.
“Marcus, I am detective Stevens and he’s Officer Hastings,” the man removes his hands as he introduces himself. “We believe you were murdered.”