Hey everyone!! I would like to start by thanking My BETA reader for going over this for me, thank you Jennifer this is only the prologue of the story that I posted some time ago. Since I really did not like the first try I've started again from the beginning, this time there should be no spelling mistakes. I would like to inform you that I'm currently going through a terrible writers block, the ideas are there but I've not been able to join the sentences in such a way that they flow, if you notice any of these please let me know so I can do something about it. ALso let me know if you prefer this to the original.
Bracken hurry up and give me my story back I love you anyway and this is dedicated to you! Happy??!!
Blah blah blah I don't own seaQuest Yadda yadda yadda.
Prologue
The boy's immobile form could have fooled anybody into believing that the 18-year old was asleep.In contrast with the relaxation of his body though, Lucas' mind was busy in its own battle. Thoughts attacked from every direction possible, engulfed in the task of breaking him up as he struggled to make sense out of them. In other words, a complete workout.He tried to concentrate on his current situation: The room was slightly stuffy, the air heavy and difficult to breathe. The cotton sheets, long ago kicked away, still proved to be stale and uncomfortable beneath his boiling skin. His over-sized gray t-shirt, which clung to his arms and back because of his sweat, tortured him into stillness.
He had the sudden urge to move, to search for a cooler space on the small mattress, just a temporary Eden for his painfully uncomfortable limbs. He finally found a fresh spot on the edge of the bed, one that his feet had yet to lay on. The soft shuffling broke the silence which had reigned up until a few moments earlier, booming through the deadly-still quarters. He cringed as he heard it echoing for what seemed like hundreds of times inside his head. He became an unmoving statue again, his thoughts, hypnotized back to what was really bothering him, (aside from the temperature) by a non-existent force.
He hated to admit it, even to himself, but since the day Bridger had left seaQuest, his confidence in himself had taken a dive far below what most would refer to as 'normal limits'. He wondered whether the captain had anything to do with the crew's sudden change of attitude towards him. He doubted it though. He strongly believed that what he and Bridger had created together had been a parallel world. One on which he would be able to live his life in peace, away from the dangers of modern existence and free from the depressions of a broken family. What he believed had been constructed though, was apparently not able to withstand the tempest that time, along with distance had created against it. It had shattered, crumbled, substituted by some other apparent reality that many others would consider ridiculous. The column, which had managed to elevate Lucas above the past pains, had been demolished. Everything that it had been supporting had fallen over.
Destroyed.
He moved again. Trapped in this sleepless state, he was forever a victim to his feelings. He breathed in deeply. His lungs seemed too small to contain such a large quantity of air; the tissue seemed to stretch, restricted by his fear. He was forced to exhale rapidly and shakily, by their apparent yearning to empty again.
He couldn't stand this anymore. As his mind replayed the events of the day, the butterflies went wild in his stomach. Struggling to be freed, they seemed to hit against the walls of the organ causing shivers to shoot up Lucas' spine.
He glanced at his alarm clock. 3:28 am.
He sighed in frustration; the night seemed to be endless. He had gotten used to his late thoughts. At least, he knew that it was inevitable that they would occur. His mind though, was tortured every time they were evoked. This certainly hadn't been the first time he had found himself awake and this hadn't been the first time his memories had tormented him nor would it be the last. Part of him preferred being awake. The nightmares that seemed to attack him as he slept left nothing more of him than a trembling, sweaty form, in the aftermath of terrifying images. On the other hand, sometimes he liked them better than his conscious thoughts. At least he knew they were just a work of his love-deprived fantasy. As he lay there awake, he knew the feelings washing over him were real; there was no possible way of blaming them on his subconscious or overworking imagination.
His body made the decision itself. It numbed his limbs first, trying to please them with some comfort. Then his mind kicked in, exhausted to the limit by his paranoia. It wasn't enough though. Even if his thoughts were under control for the moment, the feelings related to them refused to Subside. They kept on biting feverishly at him, shredding his last bits of alertness, sending him in a thankful dreamless sleep.
Bracken hurry up and give me my story back I love you anyway and this is dedicated to you! Happy??!!
Blah blah blah I don't own seaQuest Yadda yadda yadda.
Prologue
The boy's immobile form could have fooled anybody into believing that the 18-year old was asleep.In contrast with the relaxation of his body though, Lucas' mind was busy in its own battle. Thoughts attacked from every direction possible, engulfed in the task of breaking him up as he struggled to make sense out of them. In other words, a complete workout.He tried to concentrate on his current situation: The room was slightly stuffy, the air heavy and difficult to breathe. The cotton sheets, long ago kicked away, still proved to be stale and uncomfortable beneath his boiling skin. His over-sized gray t-shirt, which clung to his arms and back because of his sweat, tortured him into stillness.
He had the sudden urge to move, to search for a cooler space on the small mattress, just a temporary Eden for his painfully uncomfortable limbs. He finally found a fresh spot on the edge of the bed, one that his feet had yet to lay on. The soft shuffling broke the silence which had reigned up until a few moments earlier, booming through the deadly-still quarters. He cringed as he heard it echoing for what seemed like hundreds of times inside his head. He became an unmoving statue again, his thoughts, hypnotized back to what was really bothering him, (aside from the temperature) by a non-existent force.
He hated to admit it, even to himself, but since the day Bridger had left seaQuest, his confidence in himself had taken a dive far below what most would refer to as 'normal limits'. He wondered whether the captain had anything to do with the crew's sudden change of attitude towards him. He doubted it though. He strongly believed that what he and Bridger had created together had been a parallel world. One on which he would be able to live his life in peace, away from the dangers of modern existence and free from the depressions of a broken family. What he believed had been constructed though, was apparently not able to withstand the tempest that time, along with distance had created against it. It had shattered, crumbled, substituted by some other apparent reality that many others would consider ridiculous. The column, which had managed to elevate Lucas above the past pains, had been demolished. Everything that it had been supporting had fallen over.
Destroyed.
He moved again. Trapped in this sleepless state, he was forever a victim to his feelings. He breathed in deeply. His lungs seemed too small to contain such a large quantity of air; the tissue seemed to stretch, restricted by his fear. He was forced to exhale rapidly and shakily, by their apparent yearning to empty again.
He couldn't stand this anymore. As his mind replayed the events of the day, the butterflies went wild in his stomach. Struggling to be freed, they seemed to hit against the walls of the organ causing shivers to shoot up Lucas' spine.
He glanced at his alarm clock. 3:28 am.
He sighed in frustration; the night seemed to be endless. He had gotten used to his late thoughts. At least, he knew that it was inevitable that they would occur. His mind though, was tortured every time they were evoked. This certainly hadn't been the first time he had found himself awake and this hadn't been the first time his memories had tormented him nor would it be the last. Part of him preferred being awake. The nightmares that seemed to attack him as he slept left nothing more of him than a trembling, sweaty form, in the aftermath of terrifying images. On the other hand, sometimes he liked them better than his conscious thoughts. At least he knew they were just a work of his love-deprived fantasy. As he lay there awake, he knew the feelings washing over him were real; there was no possible way of blaming them on his subconscious or overworking imagination.
His body made the decision itself. It numbed his limbs first, trying to please them with some comfort. Then his mind kicked in, exhausted to the limit by his paranoia. It wasn't enough though. Even if his thoughts were under control for the moment, the feelings related to them refused to Subside. They kept on biting feverishly at him, shredding his last bits of alertness, sending him in a thankful dreamless sleep.