| General Fiction posted May 31, 2020 |
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a shock to the system
Coran - part III
by giraffmang
Previously- Coran is alone in a world populated by what he calls 'echoes'. Coran suspects these are remnants of real people. They weren't always there but are growing in abundance. He has not seen another human in months and things are taking their toll...
He walks through an almost deserted city to reach home, observed only by the echoes. He keeps his house in darkness to avoid seeing them and settles in for the night only to be awoke by something new... screaming. The screaming stops as Coran turns on the light. He discovers his feet appear to be bleeding but finds no wounds. The echoes return and Coran flees into the night...
Part III -
Coran was plagued by questions as he ploughed through the fine mizzle of the night. Why had he survived when seemingly no one else had? Why had the echoes come? Where did the blood come from if not from his own wounds? And the newest – what was that strange noise which had awoken him?
As the mizzle set in, the hairs on Coran’s arms twitched. An unusual static seemed to fill the air and he thought he heard wailing somewhere in the distance. He became aware of a blueish tinge to the air around him and he spun around.
The echoes…
They were everywhere, as far as he could see. The old man was there again with the pitiful look in his eyes, edging closer. His mouth moved but no sound escaped.
Coran swung out an arm at the old man, passing right through him. “I told you to go. There’s nothing for you here. Why won’t you go?”
The old man’s fluctuating face frowned. Coran turned and ran, sending spurts of water high into the air with every stride. He kept running until the city streets were far behind him. No glow of streetlights or of the echoes either. All was dark and quiet. Perfect.
The wet grass underfoot helped to sooth Coran. He breathed deep and let it out slow. The jolt hit him hard. Coran fell to the ground - his back arched, limbs out-splayed, fingers clenched, and toes crunched. His scream shattered the silence. The pain subsided and he struggled to get a breath. The reprieve was only momentary as another jolt came, then another and another.
Tears rolled down Coran’s face as he clutched handfuls of wet grass in his fists. Blurry, insubstantial faces hovered into his view and then everything went black…
Previously- Coran is alone in a world populated by what he calls 'echoes'. Coran suspects these are remnants of real people. They weren't always there but are growing in abundance. He has not seen another human in months and things are taking their toll...
He walks through an almost deserted city to reach home, observed only by the echoes. He keeps his house in darkness to avoid seeing them and settles in for the night only to be awoke by something new... screaming. The screaming stops as Coran turns on the light. He discovers his feet appear to be bleeding but finds no wounds. The echoes return and Coran flees into the night...
Part III -
Coran was plagued by questions as he ploughed through the fine mizzle of the night. Why had he survived when seemingly no one else had? Why had the echoes come? Where did the blood come from if not from his own wounds? And the newest – what was that strange noise which had awoken him?
As the mizzle set in, the hairs on Coran’s arms twitched. An unusual static seemed to fill the air and he thought he heard wailing somewhere in the distance. He became aware of a blueish tinge to the air around him and he spun around.
The echoes…
They were everywhere, as far as he could see. The old man was there again with the pitiful look in his eyes, edging closer. His mouth moved but no sound escaped.
Coran swung out an arm at the old man, passing right through him. “I told you to go. There’s nothing for you here. Why won’t you go?”
The old man’s fluctuating face frowned. Coran turned and ran, sending spurts of water high into the air with every stride. He kept running until the city streets were far behind him. No glow of streetlights or of the echoes either. All was dark and quiet. Perfect.
The wet grass underfoot helped to sooth Coran. He breathed deep and let it out slow. The jolt hit him hard. Coran fell to the ground - his back arched, limbs out-splayed, fingers clenched, and toes crunched. His scream shattered the silence. The pain subsided and he struggled to get a breath. The reprieve was only momentary as another jolt came, then another and another.
Tears rolled down Coran’s face as he clutched handfuls of wet grass in his fists. Blurry, insubstantial faces hovered into his view and then everything went black…
He walks through an almost deserted city to reach home, observed only by the echoes. He keeps his house in darkness to avoid seeing them and settles in for the night only to be awoke by something new... screaming. The screaming stops as Coran turns on the light. He discovers his feet appear to be bleeding but finds no wounds. The echoes return and Coran flees into the night...
Part III -
Coran was plagued by questions as he ploughed through the fine mizzle of the night. Why had he survived when seemingly no one else had? Why had the echoes come? Where did the blood come from if not from his own wounds? And the newest – what was that strange noise which had awoken him?
As the mizzle set in, the hairs on Coran’s arms twitched. An unusual static seemed to fill the air and he thought he heard wailing somewhere in the distance. He became aware of a blueish tinge to the air around him and he spun around.
The echoes…
They were everywhere, as far as he could see. The old man was there again with the pitiful look in his eyes, edging closer. His mouth moved but no sound escaped.
Coran swung out an arm at the old man, passing right through him. “I told you to go. There’s nothing for you here. Why won’t you go?”
The old man’s fluctuating face frowned. Coran turned and ran, sending spurts of water high into the air with every stride. He kept running until the city streets were far behind him. No glow of streetlights or of the echoes either. All was dark and quiet. Perfect.
The wet grass underfoot helped to sooth Coran. He breathed deep and let it out slow. The jolt hit him hard. Coran fell to the ground - his back arched, limbs out-splayed, fingers clenched, and toes crunched. His scream shattered the silence. The pain subsided and he struggled to get a breath. The reprieve was only momentary as another jolt came, then another and another.
Tears rolled down Coran’s face as he clutched handfuls of wet grass in his fists. Blurry, insubstantial faces hovered into his view and then everything went black…
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