Loop

You wake up amidst a pool of blood. You move… muscles and bones are not cooperating… A jolt, then a second. It doesn’t matter, it’s all familiar. You know by instinct that some of that blood is yours… you reach out to touch it, try to taste it…

Eager fingers and thirsty fingertips reach out, hungry and lustful… your heart is fluttering, your blood is rushing, coursing through your veins, making your muscles alive and your bones complain.

Nothing… there is nothing there. The skin at your fingertips, loaded with activated neurons reads the surface like crazy, trying to send back to your corrupted brain proof of what all your other senses say it’s there… You look at your hands in disbelief. It is – or looks like it is – covered in blood. Steadily, you bring it to your mouth.

There is nothing there.

Fear strikes you. Are you hallucinating? You begin to fumble around, and frantically you end up feeling your body… Trying to find the wounds trying to prove what you want to see… trying to justify what you see…

There is nothing there.

You reach out – mentally and physically – as far and as hard as you can. You have to remember… You have to know if it is real or not…

There was tension… sorrow… pain… there was loss…

Something is urging you to stop. It almost feels like it is begging you… You press on; you need to know, at all cost…

You where mourning… Peacefully… And then… something snapped.


Another jolt… Somehow, this brings more pain, and feels more real.

They kept pushing, kept pressing… You warned them behind grinding teeth to back off, leave you alone… They wouldn’t listen… All you wanted to do was to be alone for a while… it would have passed… You could have worked it out…

But they kept pushing; and…

A torrent of emotions and memories overbears you…

You wake up amidst a pool of blood. You move… muscles and bones are not cooperating… A jolt, then a second. It doesn’t matter, it’s all familiar. You know by instinct that some of that blood is yours… you reach out to touch it, try to taste it…