| General Fiction posted June 10, 2020 |
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... for now ...
Coran - part IV - the conclusion
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...
Coran walks for hours through the mizzle until he leaves the city behind him. Believing he's found a little solitude from the echoes, Coran starts to relax only to be assaulted with jolts of pain, leaving him unconsciousness...
Part IV - the conclusion-
Coran awoke on a damp patch of grass. It squelched as he struggled to sit, muscles aching from whatever had assaulted him. He lifted a hand to rub his brow and stared at the rivulets of blood coursing over his fingers. The ground beneath him looked dark brown… and the smell…
He got to his feet as fast as he could, stained shirt plastered to his chest. His head pounded and his ribs grated when he moved. Coran’s left arm hung limp at his side. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. This wasn’t how anyone else had gone, no one he knew of anyway.
Coran hobbled over to and lowered himself onto a large boulder. “So, this is how it ends. My time to go.” He allowed himself a wry smile, despite the pain.
In the near distance, a faint glow emanated. Blue and soft. Not like dawn, this was something else. A faint whisper reached Coran on the breeze. A gentle thrumming, like many voices speaking at once. The glow drew closer. It seemed to bob and pulsate as it neared and Coran realised it was the echoes… hundreds, maybe thousands of them.
He sighed and stared through bleary eyes. “They were here for me all along.” His chin fell to his chest as his breathing deepened. When he next looked up, the glow surrounded him. From out of the incandescence, the old man strode, smiling, arm outstretched. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed. The old man stopped in front of Coran; compassion written over his wrinkled face.
Coran coughed and a trickle of blood escaped his lips. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke. “You were here for me?”
The old man appeared more solid than before as he reached out a hand. He placed a finger on Coran’s forehead. “Remember.”
Coran cried out in surprise. Thoughts and jumbled feelings race through his head as if the old man had ripped away an invisible wall deep within him. And Coran remembered.
Bright light. Headlamps… bearing down on him. Arms lifted in a vain effort of protection. Eyes clamped shut but the lights bleed though. Shattering glass exploding everywhere. Metal rends, tears and slices, flying past him until one piece doesn’t.
Coran grabbed his left arm, fingers probing a large gash from forearm to elbow. A stinging in his forehead, blood running into his eyes and just before the darkness descended, he heard the old man speak a final time.
“It’s not us who don’t belong here. It’s you…”
~
The murmuring ceased as Coran groaned. His eyelids flickered several times before he could fully open them. A soft, diffused light greeted his return to consciousness. Blurry faces hovered over him. A siren wailed in the distance. The occasional beep of a monitor sounded somewhere in the room. The faces slowly coalesced into familiarity. Tears streamed down Coran’s face as Camille bent down and kissed his cheek. His wife… beyond her his mum and dad.
An echo reverberated deep inside of him. “It’s not us who don’t belong here. It’s you… at least for now.”
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...
Coran walks for hours through the mizzle until he leaves the city behind him. Believing he's found a little solitude from the echoes, Coran starts to relax only to be assaulted with jolts of pain, leaving him unconsciousness...
Part IV - the conclusion-
Coran awoke on a damp patch of grass. It squelched as he struggled to sit, muscles aching from whatever had assaulted him. He lifted a hand to rub his brow and stared at the rivulets of blood coursing over his fingers. The ground beneath him looked dark brown… and the smell…
He got to his feet as fast as he could, stained shirt plastered to his chest. His head pounded and his ribs grated when he moved. Coran’s left arm hung limp at his side. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. This wasn’t how anyone else had gone, no one he knew of anyway.
Coran hobbled over to and lowered himself onto a large boulder. “So, this is how it ends. My time to go.” He allowed himself a wry smile, despite the pain.
In the near distance, a faint glow emanated. Blue and soft. Not like dawn, this was something else. A faint whisper reached Coran on the breeze. A gentle thrumming, like many voices speaking at once. The glow drew closer. It seemed to bob and pulsate as it neared and Coran realised it was the echoes… hundreds, maybe thousands of them.
He sighed and stared through bleary eyes. “They were here for me all along.” His chin fell to his chest as his breathing deepened. When he next looked up, the glow surrounded him. From out of the incandescence, the old man strode, smiling, arm outstretched. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed. The old man stopped in front of Coran; compassion written over his wrinkled face.
Coran coughed and a trickle of blood escaped his lips. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke. “You were here for me?”
The old man appeared more solid than before as he reached out a hand. He placed a finger on Coran’s forehead. “Remember.”
Coran cried out in surprise. Thoughts and jumbled feelings race through his head as if the old man had ripped away an invisible wall deep within him. And Coran remembered.
Bright light. Headlamps… bearing down on him. Arms lifted in a vain effort of protection. Eyes clamped shut but the lights bleed though. Shattering glass exploding everywhere. Metal rends, tears and slices, flying past him until one piece doesn’t.
Coran grabbed his left arm, fingers probing a large gash from forearm to elbow. A stinging in his forehead, blood running into his eyes and just before the darkness descended, he heard the old man speak a final time.
“It’s not us who don’t belong here. It’s you…”
~
The murmuring ceased as Coran groaned. His eyelids flickered several times before he could fully open them. A soft, diffused light greeted his return to consciousness. Blurry faces hovered over him. A siren wailed in the distance. The occasional beep of a monitor sounded somewhere in the room. The faces slowly coalesced into familiarity. Tears streamed down Coran’s face as Camille bent down and kissed his cheek. His wife… beyond her his mum and dad.
An echo reverberated deep inside of him. “It’s not us who don’t belong here. It’s you… at least for now.”
 Recognized |
#87 2020 |
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