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Shadows of the Mind

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posted on Dec, 7 2004 @ 07:52 AM
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His eyes open to an inferno, scorching his skin as he tries to shake the cobwebs loose in the murky depths of his brain. Smoke and and the stench of burning flesh choke his breathing, making him gag and gasp as his weary, battered body struggles to rise from the burning floor. Burning wood all around, but he can't place where he is. Something about an old farmhouse comes to mind, but he can't focus his thoughts.

Still too fuzzy.

Too much sludge in his brain, drawing coherent thoughts away into an abyss, like a body being lost in quicksand. Sinking down, lower and lower, lost in suffocation, memories are pushed to the back burner, allowing the survival instinct to reign supreme over his mind and body. Memories can come later, when the body is out of danger.

Crawling across the burning floor, his eyes water as the stinging smoke clouds his vision, but still he pushes on. The floorboards crackle from his weight and from the all-consuming flames that encompass his world. But still he pushes on, fighting for survival, driving his body to limits he can't remember finding. A glance at his rugged forearms through the thick smoke tells him he should have the strength to continue, but his body is slowed by fatigue and injury. The fatigue numbs his limbs, sapping him of the strength he can only imagine he would normally command.

No time to daydream about past accomplishments though. Memories aren't the priority. Keeping himself alive to remember more later is the top priority.

But still the flames lick at his feet, hands, and knees as he crawls along the hot floor, searching seemingly in vain for the doorway to his salvation. Part of the ceiling begins to crumble around him, chipping away at what little hope he may have held onto. Perhaps this will be his tomb.

And then a brief breeze of cooler air from in front of him as he reaches a wall. But is it a wall? "No," he realizes. "It's a door!" The air blows in from under the door, but is quickly expelled back out as the pressure in the burning structure continues to build.

But the doorway gives him hope once more and he throws his weak and weary body against it, feeling it bow away from the framework slightly as he impacts the bottom of the heavy oak door from all fours.

"One... more.... try...." he manages to gasp and throws himself agains the door one more time. Oddly he finds the door missing, replaced by a blast of cold air.

Falling flat on his face, he collapses on concrete steps, finally outside. The last thing he sees before his eyes fail him and the world of unconsciousness claims him once more are a pair of brown boots.


To be continued....?




posted on Dec, 9 2004 @ 04:37 PM
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Excellent work, sibkin. glad to see you back on the ball- keep writing!

DE



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