Excerpt of novel in progress...
- - -
“Put our your left hand. You need to shuffle the cards.” Roc smiled as the girl put her hand out, and as Roc’s skin brushed hers, he felt the sweat on her palm and
white-yellow bursts, bright as welding arcs, marched across his brain. His jaws snapped shut and forced his teeth to grind against each other. The joints of his bones galvanized and locked into place as high-pitch agony jumped from one socket to the next.
The sound of his heartbeat slowing. The two quick tha-dum, tha-dum... tha-dum, tha-dum, pulse in his body easing to a halt.
Blood flowed into the right ventricle.
Tha-dum.
Blood exiting the left ventricle into his blood-stream.
Tha-dum.
Even slower, his body edging closer and closer to the edge of an abyss that cradled death at its feet. Close enough that he could see shapes moving between the bursts of light. He could see THEM in the light. THEY clawed after him, reaching out hands of bleached, skin-wrapped bone, fingers nothing more than sharpened sticks of driftwood. Hollow eyes the color of curdled milk stared at him and they screamed the sound of desperation from their gaunt, tortured faces.
And in their screams, Roc saw.
- - -
“Put our your left hand. You need to shuffle the cards.” Roc smiled as the girl put her hand out, and as Roc’s skin brushed hers, he felt the sweat on her palm and
white-yellow bursts, bright as welding arcs, marched across his brain. His jaws snapped shut and forced his teeth to grind against each other. The joints of his bones galvanized and locked into place as high-pitch agony jumped from one socket to the next.
The sound of his heartbeat slowing. The two quick tha-dum, tha-dum... tha-dum, tha-dum, pulse in his body easing to a halt.
Blood flowed into the right ventricle.
Tha-dum.
Blood exiting the left ventricle into his blood-stream.
Tha-dum.
Even slower, his body edging closer and closer to the edge of an abyss that cradled death at its feet. Close enough that he could see shapes moving between the bursts of light. He could see THEM in the light. THEY clawed after him, reaching out hands of bleached, skin-wrapped bone, fingers nothing more than sharpened sticks of driftwood. Hollow eyes the color of curdled milk stared at him and they screamed the sound of desperation from their gaunt, tortured faces.
And in their screams, Roc saw.
- - -
posted by Bob at 10/26/2005
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