By Blood

This entry shows you the evolution of the story-seed that was planted by my dream. I've begun to really flesh it out, but rather than plop down the (still evolving) synopsis, I thought I'd just go with the Adapted Opening Scene... (of course, if you've read the previous entry, you'll have an idea of what's going on- but keep in mind that any theoretical readers of my theoretical books would not be privy to my internal, night-time adventures.)



***

When I woke, it was in a Strange Place. But I could smell my mother, so I closed my eyes and drifted off again into the nothingness.

The second time I woke, I could remember my dreams- my nightmares. Lights that screamed, shrieked, tore me apart- and darkness wet as blood. Someone was crying, crying… everything hurt. My mother stroked my forehead, singly softly, and I was under once more.

Finally I opened my eyes and kept them open. My first thoughts were concerned with the pain I was feeling- but it was… detached pain. I felt not quite connected to my own body, as though my spirit had moved ever-so-slightly out of alignment: overlapping for the most part, but not perfectly. I tried to sit up to get a better view of my surroundings, found I could not, and instead focused on what I could see within the limits of my current view.

White ceiling, mostly- but I noticed that the room, wherever it was, was suffused with natural light. There must be some pretty big windows in here- perhaps even a wall of windows, off to my left. I could smell- the sea? But not the sea as I knew it, cold and forbidding off the coast of Maine. These waters smelled warm, inviting: like sunlight in another form. My skin informed me there was a slight breeze, and if I focused I could hear the piercing cry of far-off gulls. The giant windows were open, then.

A movement to my right had me flicking my eyes over to that side- Mother. I opened my mouth to ask her what was going on, where we were- but all that came out was a croak that hurt my throat. I swallowed, and realized it felt suspiciously as though there had been a tube in it. I tried not to think about what that might mean.

She smiled at me, but the smile did not reach her eyes, which looked as though they’d rather be crying. I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to pretend to be cheerful for my sake- I knew her too well to be fooled. But I couldn’t, so I twitched my fingers at her, instead.

“You’re awake,” she commented. “And aware this time, I think.” I felt the corner of my lips twitch, and gave her a languid blink.

“No talking yet, I see,” she said as she sat. “That’s alright. You need to listen, for a while.” I would listen, but I wasn’t certain how much I would retain- whatever drugs it was that were keeping the pain at bay were also making my mind… slippery.

“You’ve been in an accident,” she reached out and squeezed my hand with an intensity that belied her brisk voice. It was her pragmatic, ‘sealing-off-the-pain’ voice. That particular voice meant things were Very Bad, indeed. “I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided that it’s better for you to know right away that… your father and your brothers… they were with you. And they didn’t make it.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted to go back to the nothingness. I wanted to die. Anything other than this tearing feeling in my chest, in my unfocused soul. Better yet, I wanted to wake up one more time, wanted this to be just another part of the nightmares…

“And Pippa- I had to… I had to take some drastic measures, to save your life. We’ll talk about it more when you’re stronger. But you need to know- you’re probably going to be very weak for a long time, darling.” I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t care about whatever else she had to say; I was remembering that I’d read about people turning their face to the wall and dying of a broken heart. I wondered when I’d be strong enough to move my head.