Not my best work. Inspired by Mary E. Pearson's book, "The Adoration of Jenna Fox"
Enjoy.
In the beginning there was darkness.
My consciousness lay at the heart of it.
I could not decipher up from down or left from right.
I could not sense the passing of time.
There was only the encompassing darkness.
Time did not exist in such a place, I soon realized.
There would no before or after or in between.
There was only being.
There was only darkness.
And then there wasn't.
There were voices.
Voices fighting, grieving, praying.
I could not discern the words said.
But I found a sense of comfort in their presence.
There were missing pieces.
But I only ever felt their absence long after they were found.
There were stories.
A low murmur.
The rustle of a page turning.
A familiar voice.
Then there was pain.
There was a frantic beeping.
Then the screaming began.
The darkness was fading.
No.
There was a different kind of pain.
I was screaming.
I felt the prick of a needle.
There was darkness once more.
A beat.
The soft caress of lips on my skin.
I could feel.
There were other pieces.
They were thrown haphazardly together.
They overlapped.
They left gaping holes.
They made me whole.
The darkness started slipping away.
There were voices again.
Soft, anxious, vivid.
There is a word.
They whisper it like a prayer.
The darkness is gone.
I am afraid.
There are voices, still.
Wake up.
Open your eyes.
I feel their presence around me.
I long for the darkness.
In the end there is light.
It casts shadows upon the nervous faces around me.
There is silence... then-
"Blair"