Sheer Injury, Coming Soon - Thriller

He moved from one room to the next. He walked to try to get away from what was coming from within. He knew it was irrational to believe that he could remove himself from the voice and the thoughts that ran through his head … but still, he walked. He did not want to sit, alone, with the voice or the insanity of his musings. He put his hands to his hears and the voice became louder. He wanted to scream but that would disturb her; that was the last thing he wanted to do. He did not want to worry her with something that he did not understand.

He felt like he was going crazy. He needed some help, he knew he did. However, what would he say? That he was hearing a lone voice that was speaking things that were unintelligible. He could not make out what was being said, so he could not communicate it to anyone. It wasn’t as if the voice was speaking a foreign language. He felt like he should understand, but the meaning of the words were just out of his reach. He wanted to hush the voice, yet he did not know what to say. He was silenced. The voice silenced him. It seemed as if the voice had always been silencing him. The voice never wanted to hear him, didn’t care what he had to say or what he wanted. It was self-serving. It only wanted to be heard – heard, but not understood. It was an oxymoron that he had come to expect from the voice.

What was he going to do with the enormity of the situation? He entertained the notion that he was dealing with some form of mania, yet he did not know from whence it derived. He was still functioning on his job and in his relationship. He was maintaining a semblance of normalcy that he did not feel. He was afraid all of the time, it seemed. Ever since the dream invaded his waking moments, he was fearful that someone would find out and he would lose everything. He had so much to lose. Somewhere in the back of his mind, panic was being conceived. He felt like he had lost so much, somewhere – at some time that he could not quite put his finger on.

Excerpt from SHEER INJURY, Coming Soon

He paced the floor. The voice would not cease; he needed for the man to be quiet. He could not make sense of what was happening to him. What was the incessant rustling sound and the voice that would not keep quiet? At first it started in his dreams. He would awaken with sweat pouring from his brow and his heart beating wildly in his chest. They were disturbing images that plagued him, while he slept. He was in a dark and unfamiliar place. It was cold and damp and he was alone. For some reason he could not imagine that he was more than a mere child, in his dream. Yet, he was flooded with mature emotions. His fear was palpable. He could feel the bile rising up through his throat and into his mouth. He could not be a child and understand this kind of terror.

He could not remember, from his dream, the place where he was kept. He did not remember seeing other children where he was, but he could hear children’s laughter in the distance. The man would come to visit him to bring him food and water. He would unchain his hands so he could eat, but his feet remained in shackles. What he could not determine was if he was in a room or in a hole. It was dark and the ground or the floor beneath his was cold … or was it damp? He was blindfolded, so he was unable to tell if it was night or day. What he knew for certain was the biting horror that assailed him. It never left him, it was his constant companion.