Post by Everett Price on Feb 8, 2016 20:48:45 GMT -5
He was standing in a lake of fire.
Up to his waist, Everett could feel the water -- starting to boil, simmering at first against his exposed skin, the temperature rising rapidly. He could barely think -- why was he here? What exactly was happening? But there was so little time to understand these new surroundings -- for the shore was far, father than he could fathom, and the fire began to ripple over the waves with a ferocity Everett could not help but watch, dumbfounded, as it rippled towards him.
How was it moving? What lake was this? He watched in similar disbelief as his own hand reached out towards the licking flames, as if testing their veracity, wonder what trick of the light this was; and then the skin on his fingers began to sizzle, the sensation of his skin beginning to peel off widening his dark eyes in alarm.
There was nowhere to escape.
And when Everett awoke from this fever dream, he awoke screaming -- suffocating not from the imaginary flames in his throat, nor the boiling water choking his lungs, but instead tangled in the sheets of his own bed, if only he could make himself aware of it; his stripped body dripping with sweat, unable to open his eyes in full. Every movement was excruciating; it felt as though the skin along his torso and left leg were being pried off, piece by piece, by deliberate, insistent fingers.
"Mada -- " he called out, the pleading in his voice foreign to his ears; a weak and long-forgotten child-like cry for a mother he could not picture.
What was happening? Where was he?
@emelineprice
Up to his waist, Everett could feel the water -- starting to boil, simmering at first against his exposed skin, the temperature rising rapidly. He could barely think -- why was he here? What exactly was happening? But there was so little time to understand these new surroundings -- for the shore was far, father than he could fathom, and the fire began to ripple over the waves with a ferocity Everett could not help but watch, dumbfounded, as it rippled towards him.
How was it moving? What lake was this? He watched in similar disbelief as his own hand reached out towards the licking flames, as if testing their veracity, wonder what trick of the light this was; and then the skin on his fingers began to sizzle, the sensation of his skin beginning to peel off widening his dark eyes in alarm.
There was nowhere to escape.
And when Everett awoke from this fever dream, he awoke screaming -- suffocating not from the imaginary flames in his throat, nor the boiling water choking his lungs, but instead tangled in the sheets of his own bed, if only he could make himself aware of it; his stripped body dripping with sweat, unable to open his eyes in full. Every movement was excruciating; it felt as though the skin along his torso and left leg were being pried off, piece by piece, by deliberate, insistent fingers.
"Mada -- " he called out, the pleading in his voice foreign to his ears; a weak and long-forgotten child-like cry for a mother he could not picture.
What was happening? Where was he?
@emelineprice