Writers Note: If you haven’t done so already, I’m giving everyone a last chance to like, share, and tag as many people as possible on this post of Chapter 4 and Chapter 3 to have an opportunity to have YOUR NAME as a character in the book. Don’t make me threaten you. 😉 Enjoy the beginning of Chapter 4. The end of it will actually leave you wondering what the heck just happened…and if it doesn’t, then you cannot be surprised by anything and should have been a zen master. So, take a break from your day and read the next 300 words or so and escape from reality.
Also, be sure to provide feedback, so I know what my readers are thinking…and if you catch any errors, let me know, I don’t always see them. Good luck to those doing their part by tagging and sharing and liking and providing feedback!
My eyelashes, glued together, resisted being open. It’s like when you’re awakened suddenly because you heard a loud noise. A muffled popping sound; the sound a couch cushion makes when pierced with a fork. I then hear a muted zipper sound. My eyes break open, squint, and I wonder what that popping sound was, where that zipper noise had come from. It’s almost exactly like that, except and until you feel panic, a rush of pain.
Curiosity beckons me to look down and see why I feel so cold. I saw all of the light my eyelids had shielded from me. White gauze spanning the length of my arms. The gauze had been but an indicator of what I was about to feel once I decided to get up or, heaven forbid, use the water closet. Hardly beginning to comprehend what has happened when I see a perfect crimson line down a part of my torso. Feels like I have to wake up from a dream. Pop. Zip. These hopefully sanitized personnel – with eyes that only those having lived through a live zombie horror movie would know – have torn into my flesh, pop, and found a zipper I hadn’t known existed. A noise made of writhing fear beginning in my lungs, draining them and then forcing my throat to open and bellow a loud and long series of “a” sounds.
It’s just good to know they haven’t taken my lungs out yet.
The surgical masks rush me to an operating room. I feel a pinch somewhere on my body and I begin to float. Over the course of who-knows-how-long, I would awaken in a panic, my pores salivating all over my second-hand pajamas. Panic and fear, from dreams I can hardly remember. Living lifetimes in those sleep hallucinations. Entire worlds, with history and people only existing for a few hours after my eyelids fall. Waking up leaves me feeling guilty, like I sacrificed everything for something stupid.
….To Be Continued….Bum bum buuuuuuum!