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Room 1135 |
| Written by David Neve | |
| Friday, 14 March 2008 | |
Day 1
To whom it may concern: That first line is a joke really, and I think I'm the only one that gets it. I don't know where to start, so I'll tell you what I think I know. My name is Scott, Scott Harris. I'm trapped in a room. It's weird, I can open the door and walk out - but as soon as the door closes, I'm right back in the room again, with my hand on the doorknob. I tried opening it as wide as I could and then running down the hall - but the door always closes and I'm right back where I started. A hotel room, I didn't mention that. Room 1135. I wake up here every day; I go to sleep here every day. But, the weird things don't stop at the door. This note is a good example of weird. Standard hotel notepaper, but I can't lift this page to use the next. Nor can I pull the pencil next to it off of the desk. But somehow, I can use the pen I'm writing with. I can't open the curtains, I can't turn the water on or off at the sink. I can't pull the sheets back on the bed. I can't even turn on a damn light! I don't know. I'm totally confused. I do know that every time I wake up this tablet is in a different location, so someone must be coming in here. Welcome to the great experiment. All I can do is keep writing notes and hope they fall into the right hands. That's it; I'm out of paper. If you are reading this, help me! Please!
* * * * *
Days Later
Day 2. Though, not really - this is note 2. I woke up this morning and the first note was gone. Who knows, maybe somebody will read it. Or maybe it's in a trash can somewhere... At least I found a diversion. I was talking about the weird things in this room. Stuff happens in here that I can't explain. In fact things are happening to me that I can't explain. I don't get hungry. That is the hardest thing to get used to. Not eating. I don't know why, but when I'm here (which is always) I don't even think of eating, except the times, like now, that I ponder it. No eating, no need for a bathroom. I sleep, but I never remember lying down. I remember thinking that I'm tired - then I wake up to another hopefully empty tablet and another empty day. Sometimes I can see outside, but most of the time the curtains are closed and I have to peek through the spaces where the curtains meet. As I mentioned in my first note, I can't move them myself, and I have no idea who or what opens and closes them. There are times I hear the shower running and I run to the bathroom only to find the door closed. I can't move the door. I can't move anything in the room. Once I found the shower running and the door open, but the shower curtain greeted me. I never thought the day would come that a shower curtain would come between my destination and me, but the curtain went to within three inches of the ceiling. I'm out of paper again. Help me!
* * * * *
A Week Later
Note 3. I never imagined I would be in a position like this, and until I started writing these notes I had never considered what it would be like to write with limits. I just wasted close to forty words, saying nothing... I hate ink pens. I haven't written for a few days. I've been trying to figure out what is happening to me. The notes, I hope, were my first step to regaining my sanity. I've put all of my experiences together (instead of just writing willy-nilly about every new event) and I've determined that I'm in a bizarre situation here. I seem to exist in a different space than the room. I am in the room, but I cannot interact with anything in the room. It also appears that this room has a mind of it's own. The only thing associated with this room that I can affect is the front door & only exit. I already spoke of my experiences there... For the last few days strange things would happen on occasion, the door to the room would randomly open and close, or the water in the bathroom would run - sink, toilet, or bath. Today the whole room went crazy. I was awakened by, for lack of better words, being bounced off the bed. Bounced. Now, for me, the bed is as hard as the floor. I cannot enjoy the soft mattress, I can't interact with it, it's just another object. Today something hit the opposite side of the bed - hard enough to propel me to the floor. Damn! I'm out of paper again. Help me, please!
* * * * *
A Month Later
Note four? Yes I think so, but it doesn't really matter, does it? I think I've been here for weeks. Months? I don't know how time works here. Something happened today that affected me to the very core of my being. Forget the orbs of light, the moving of objects, the television turning on and operating itself. After what I saw today, I am really scared. I woke to the sound of the bath filling. I saw light coming from the bathroom, so I knew the door was open. I got out (off is a better word) of the bed and walked to the bathroom, and slowly looked into the room. The tub was full, and I could see and hear splashing - but I couldn't see anybody. I walked up and touched the water, then quickly pulled my hand back. The water felt like jello! Old jello. My hand couldn't penetrate the surface - it pushed back. When I pulled my hand back I noticed that it wasn't the least bit wet. I could still hear the splashing, and as I looked to the back of the tub I could see a large a hole in the water. A hole?! I didn't know what to think. I just stared at it. It would move slightly from side to side, though never far. Eventually, I couldn't help myself; I reached down into the hole... I was so mesmerized by the tunnel of air that went farther and farther into the water, that before I realized what I was doing, I had my arm into the hole up to my shoulder. Then it suddenly just closed up! The water in the tub quickly swallowed my arm and I could not pull it out! I couldn't even move my fingers! The pressure was immense! I have to write smaller. I want to write about the whole experience, and the way things have been going lately - I will have lost my mind by tomorrow and won't be able to write anything. I watched helplessly as a towel started dancing around the room and then fell to the floor. Long moments passed and then the hotel hair dryer came on. None of that really bothered me. I sat on the floor, focused on my throbbing arm stuck in the water. I'm not sure how it happened, I assure you it wasn't my idea, but somehow, I went to sleep on the bathroom floor with my arm stuck in the water. I was awakened by the sound of light splashing, and as I looked up, I saw another hole appear above the drain. I watched as the drain popped out of the hole, and could hear the water draining out of the tub. As the water level slowly decreased I waited - like a racecar at the light tree. As soon as the water pressure lessened enough - I ripped my arm out of the water. I immediately ran out of the room to my pad and started writing. Damn I hate short tablets! Damn! Damn! Damn! If you're reading this, please, please, help me!
* * * * *
Months Later
Note 5. It's been a while. I don't know how long - but definitely a while. Today the curtains swung open and there was snow on the ground. I've decided to continue writing small - I can get twice as many words in that way. I've gotten use to a lot of things here. The orbs of light floating about, the television on automatic pilot, and the water running in the bathroom. It is an odd thing, how humans adapt. Something I never imagined would happen - did. I got addicted to television. Every day the television turns on around one in the afternoon - daytime soaps. So I sit and watch. I've learned not to sit on the bed and watch. Without fail as soon as the television turns on, the orb in the room at the time will float to the bed, and the sheets will start flying. In fact, I've learned to watch the orbs very carefully - you can never tell when a chair is going to be moved out from under you. So it's soaps, then a couple of those courtroom shows - every day now. Except weekends, then it's totally random. Sometimes the television doesn't even come on during the weekends. In the evenings during the week the shows vary. I've just recently noticed that the shows will follow a trend for a few days, maybe week or two, and then change. Sometimes action shows, then romance maybe; one week was entirely spent on the pay per view sex channel. Do ghosts pay for that, I wonder? Here's a strange piece of information. I watched an entire week of those paranormal shows. It was then that I really got to understand some of the rules in this haunted room. The only thing that confuses me is that the orbs constantly change in size and brilliance. Ghost hotel? Is that even possible; and why would a ghost watch a show about ghosts? Self help program? I have to read lips when I watch television, I can't hear the programs. Lately, I've been spending my time following the orbs around the room. For whatever it's worth, I can now tell the difference between male and female orbs, as well as young and old. I don't know; at the time it seemed significant. Sometimes I can feel a little warmth radiating from them. Most often it is when there are two or more together. I don't know what that means. A while back, there were as many as eight orbs flying around the room at one time. A family of ghosts? There were definitely two adults and many children. I wish I knew what all of the rules were. I read my note and I realized that I've gotten very complacent here. I don't know if that's good or bad. I miss my family. Lately, more and more memories have been coming back to me. I have a wife, Debbie, and two children, Sam and Terri. The more I remember, the more I miss them. I still haven't figured out what the significance of this room is. I think once I figure that out, perhaps, I can leave it. Perhaps I'll never leave it. Out of paper again. If you're reading this - please help me!
* * * * *
Months Later
Note 6. I did something a little more than a week ago (I think a week has passed) that I am beginning to regret. Funny as this may sound, I think I scared the ghosts away. I was sitting on the desk thinking about my situation, focusing on what I could interact with. My giant list consisted of two items, my pen and the front door. This tablet doesn't really count; I can't do anything but write on it, and I could write on the walls if they weren't textured. I've been using with my pen non-stop since I got here - so I figured it was time to play with the door. I decided that every time an orb opened and closed my door - I would open and close the door immediately thereafter. Just too see what would happen. It was interesting in the beginning, as the orb would return to the door and open it - and I could imagine it sticking it's orb head out the door looking for the person that opened it. I would wait a few hours and then open and close the door in rapid succession - then watch the orb in the room. Sometimes the orb would dart for the door, and sometimes nothing would happen. Well, I did this a few nights in a row, and for the last few days even the daily sheet-flipping orb has stopped coming by. That slipped me into the lonely mode, which slowly grew into the angry mode. I didn't realize how much those orbs meant to me until I didn't see them anymore. I started randomly slamming the door. Not just once or twice; many times. I would stand halfway out of the doorway and wait until I saw another door opening and then I would start slamming. I did it the same way I did with the rapid open/close thing - but violently. It's not like I have anything better too do. I think I wanted to draw attention to myself. It didn't work. The alone time actually turned out to be a good thing though. Many more memories come back to me. I've been married to Debbie for twenty-two years; now an Elementary School teacher, originally my high school sweetheart. My children are 19 and 21... And I'm out of paper again. Story of my life, ha! I can't believe I just wrote that! I'm not sure I have a life at this point. If you are reading this, please help me!
* * * * *
Weeks Later
Note 7. Remember when I said the door slamming adventure didn't do anything? Well let me tell you - I could not have been more wrong. I woke up this morning and I felt drawn toward the parking lot. I went to the window and tried to see out the openings in the curtains, but it was impossible. It didn't matter much anyway - this thing that I was drawn to was on the move. By the time I gave up on the curtains, it was already in the building; and it was still moving. I could feel it through the walls. It seemed as though I could literally feel the air it was displacing as it walked in my direction. I went to the door with my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest; I was afraid to open the door, afraid to not open it. As I held the doorknob I remembered how I felt the day I stuck my hand in the tub. I was afraid. Now I stood frozen at the door reliving that unpleasant sensation. For all that I said that I wanted to be noticed, that I wanted to be found; all I could think of, was that I needed a place to hide. This wasn't a fleeting orb. This presence was coming straight to me. It wasn't that I felt it was malevolent, what shook me was the intensity with which it pursued it's target - me. I took a deep breath and opened the door. I carefully poked my head out the door and waited. I didn't have long to wait. The brightest orb that I have ever seen, brighter than I could ever imagine, moved into my hallway. I quickly ducked back into my room. I retreated to the opposite corner of the room from the door, and waited. The orb entered the room and stood next to the bathroom door, looking straight at me. I cannot explain how I knew this, I just did. I felt it. Two orbs that were not as large or as brilliant accompanied the main orb - but each was twice the size, easily, as any others that had visited my room. The two smaller orbs were highly mobile. So mobile, in fact, that for a short period of time I forgot the huge orb existed it all. They circled me continuously as I stood like a statue, frozen in the corner. On many occasions actually went through my body. Through my body! One of them pulled my pen out of my pocket. I got this pen from my son before I left Phoenix for the book signing! I snapped out of my state of shock and snatched it back; a tug-o-war ensued. By the time I remembered the large orb existed she was standing right in front of me. I could feel her energy literally going straight through me. I was, for lack of better words - sharing, sharing my physical space with her. I couldn't do anything more than just stand and stare. Thoughts started flying around my head that at first I didn't recognize, then I suddenly realized they were my memories! My life! Damn! Out of paper! I've so much to say! Please! Help me!
* * * * *
A Week Later
Note 8. Here I am all broken hearted, tried to *#$@ and only farted. I'm sorry, if I weren't writing in pen - I would erase that. It has been months since I last wrote. I know this because I can smell spring when the door is opened and closed. Yes, the other orbs are back. Same as ever. I wanted to write about the visit from the large orb and her two satellites, but the emotion is past me now. In a nutshell, the visit lasted probably about fifteen minutes - then all three simply left the room. The up side is that they left my memories with me. The down side is that they left my memories with me. I'm a writer. Apparently, the jokes on me. I write about paranormal phenomenon. Nice huh? Trapped in a room that I cannot escape. Orbs fluttering about. Objects moving about. Want to know what my last book was about? You'll need to sit down for this one. Perspective. I was attending a book signing at Barnes & Noble for a book I recently had published entitled: Mediums, The Ghostly Perspective. You read a lot about what people sense when encountering a ghost. Cold spots, disembodied voices on digital recorders, electromagnetic pulses, visions of vaporous clouds, and odd smells can accompany a ghost, but what does a ghost see when a strong psychic energy enters the room? I've been thinking about that question a lot during the last few weeks, and I am afraid I might know the answer. My spirits are down in the dirt. I can't believe I wrote that last sentence. It feels as though I'm watching my life peeling away from me one layer at a time. Slowly, painfully leaving me with nothing. I try to think of good things, my family mostly. All I get from thinking of them is more sadness. I miss them so. I know they must miss me. After the orbs visited me, I remembered having an accident in this hotel room. I remember coming back from the signing feeling overwhelmingly joyous, and walking to the space between the two double beds and attempting that "jump and click your heels together" thing. I've never been terribly good at it, and my sweet daughter has been telling me since the first day that she could put a sentence together, that one day I was going to fall and break my neck. I do remember falling. I also remember hitting my head on the dresser on the way back down. The next thing I knew, I was here. I'm afraid I know what has happened. I don't, with all of my love of life want to believe it's true. I can't write the words down for fear that writing them will make it so. Please. Help me.
* * * * *
Three Days Later
Note 9. I've been swimming in despair lately, thinking about the dead thing. I can't be dead can I? What about the orbs? Living people see orbs, not dead people. At least, that's what I preach in my books. No, there's something else going on here. Something that I haven't thought of before. There must be something going on, I just need to figure it out. I'm wearing the same clothes every day. I'm stuck in the same room every day. I do the same things every day. My pen. My pen. I always end up sitting, especially after writing a note, staring at my pen. What is it, I wonder? Why is the pen the only thing linking me to the outside? What is the connection between my pen, this room, and me? Oh my God! My pen! It's running out of ink! I had never thought for a moment that this could happen! It does not appear as though my pen has much life left in it. Wonder if that's an omen. I don't know if it will work, especially if the person reading these notes isn't particularly bright, but I remember when I was a kid, I would put a blank piece of paper over my mom's notes to my school teachers and I would shade over the page right underneath the page her note was on to make the words appear. I just need to put as much pressure as I can on the note while I write. I did fall, but there was nothing of note after that except darkness. If I am dead, then what happened to the tunnel of light? Where was the out of body experience? No, I think I'm not dead. I think that I'm just a little missing. I know, it sounds silly to read, but I think I'm unplugged, and I need to plug myself in again. How does one do that, I wonder. There is a new event, by the way. In fact this new event is what made me pick up my pen again. I've been having headaches lately. Headaches that were brief in the beginning, but every day they become more and more intense. Blasted pen! Dead people don't have headaches. I say that, not knowing for sure that it could be true. But, really, I have an extensive imagination, and I cannot make myself believe that headaches and ghosts go together. No, I think I'm alive. I think I know how to get back. It's really just a matter of clicking my heels together three times, picturing my family waiting, and saying "I wish I were home". I know, I sound like a rambling fool now. But a rambling fool is better than a dead fool any day. Please! Help me!
* * * * *
One Week Later
Note 10. I can't believe that I have only written ten notes. I am so disappointed in myself. When I first discovered that I could write notes, I told myself that I would write at least one a day. I thought at very least one a week. Now I find I've gone sometimes almost three weeks before writing. Who ever you are, you've probably forgotten me already... Since my last ink scare, I was honestly, afraid to write. I have this irrational feeling that the pen and it's ink are connected to me so strongly - that when the pen runs out of ink, I will run out of time. I tell myself it's irrational to think that way, but I can't find anything rational about my situation. I can only hope that a bubble in the ink cartridge caused the ink to skip. It seems to work fine now. The other thing that has kept me from writing is this infernal headache. Every day the pain gets more and more intense. I have given up trying to sleep on the bed; the activity is too much for me. I lay on the floor between the beds and stare at the ceiling and the television all day. On CNN I have been watching the saga of a little girl, Liana De La Vega, that has been missing for the last three weeks. Hopefully she's not stuck in one of the adjoining rooms, but then, with the things that can happen to a little girl - maybe she would be better off. I don't know. I'm writing today because the orb came back. Not the little ones, the big one. The last time the orb visited there were two smaller orbs accompanying it, but this time it was alone. This time it was also a different color. It had gone from a slightly golden hue to a golden hue with an edge of redness to it. The visit was also completely different. This time I didn't feel it coming, I had no idea. This time the orb just arrived. When I first noticed it, I was looking forward to a repeat of the last encounter. I remember the feeling of warmth that came with it. I also remember my memories started pouring back. I was open and ready to embrace the orb. I was wrong to let my defenses down. I left myself open for an attack the likes of which I could never have imagined in my books. The orb fell upon me with anger; I could almost feel the blows on my body. No, it was more than anger; there was hatred in its actions. I was pinned to the floor helpless, with my mind wide open, being assailed to the very core of my being. I don't know how long this went on, I am sure my mind exaggerated the time. The orb finally floated up above me, and oddly the shades of red were diminishing. Then the red slowly turned a light green, then ended at a light blue. I looked up at the orb in awe, mixed with a little bit of angry sarcasm and thought, gee I'm glad you feel better. It has been hours since the orb visited, and I've had plenty of time to think. I don't think that orb is my friend. I'm beginning to think that the orb might be the source of my imprisonment. I think the orb came and returned my memories to torture me. I remember now that one of the smaller orbs that arrived with it the last time tried to take my pen. The headaches didn't start until the orb visited, and they get more intense now by the hour.
Out of paper again, story
of my life. Help me! * * * * *
The Next Day
Note 11. This is going to be my last note. Not because I wish it to be, but because I feel I am falling apart. How fitting, the last note I write about my torn life, is on a torn sheet of paper. The effort that I had to go through just to get to the paper was almost more than I could bear. Not only do I have to deal with the headaches but now it seems my entire body is on the verge of disintegrating. Something is wrong with my stomach; there is a burning sensation I cannot ignore. Both of my arms feel like they are on fire. I struggle not only to write - but just lifting myself to the tablet is almost beyond my capacity. I had once, what seems a long time ago, held my breath to see if I really needed to breath. I don't think I ever wrote about that. Well, I did. I do need to breath. That is how I convinced myself that I was really alive. Now, and I'm just as sure that if I am alive - that now I am truly dying. Every part of my body is screaming out in pain. I am sure that this will be my last note. I know that I cannot
* * * * *
Vacancy
Debbie Harris sat in tears in the hallway outside of the Intensive Care unit. Comforted by her two adult children, she tried to calm herself back to sanity. She had just been escorted out of the room by two male orderlies concerned for her husband's welfare. What started as a typical visit somehow turned into a mugging. She was beside herself in shame, somehow the anger that she had kept bottled inside for the last year boiled to the surface. One minute she was lovingly touching her husband, telling him how much she and the children missed him - the next she was beating on his chest yelling at him. She looked at each of her two children in turn, "I don't know what happened! I was telling him how much we. . . It was that pen! That damn infernal pen! It never stops moving - just one circle after the next." She buried her head in her hands and took a deep breath, "Oh God. I'm losing my mind. I can't believe what I've done. I can't believe what I've done." Carrie moved to the floor and lifted her mother's head gently until her eyes were level with hers, "Mom, we understand. Don't be so hard on yourself." Carrie wiped the tears from her mother's eyes. John had moved to the window while this was happening and was looking in on his father, "Mom!" he yelled and motioned, not wanting to take his eyes away from the window, "Mom! Hurry! Something is wrong with dad!" His mom and his sister arrived a moment before the nurse closed the curtain. The last thing Debbie saw was her husband writhing in convulsions, struggling against the restraints of the bed. She immediately bolted for the door but was intercepted by the same orderly that had escorted her out of the room just moments before. The doctor bolted past her into the room, his pager beeping incessantly. The orderly held her by the shoulders and guided her back to her stunned children "Please, sit down. Try to relax, let the doctor do his job. Please." Debbie allowed herself to be guided into the nearest chair and just sat and stared at the door to her husband's room, "Oh God, I've killed my husband."
+*+
Scott Harris woke up gasping for air. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. Panic followed as he tried to scream for help and the words would not come out. There was something obstructing his throat, someone was choking him! He fought to move his hands to his throat to fight off the attacker, but could not lift them. He lifted his head to look at his arms to see if he could discern why they would not move, but saw nothing but a blur - everything was a blur. "Oh Lord. After all that I have been through? What have I done to deserve this?" With renewed effort, Scott once again pulled against his restraints when he felt strong hands upon his shoulders, pushing him back into the bed, "Mr. Harris... Mr. Harris..." Still he struggled, "SCOTT! Stop!" Then he froze; stunned and confused, fearing what might come after ‘stop', he looked up at the blurry figure above him. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin, average weight, average height, with a white glow all around his head and a bit of an accent. Not what he thought God would look like at all. "Mr. Harris," the Doctor spoke slowly "I am going to remove the breathing tube. Relax. Look up, and take a deep breath - then let it out slowly." Scott had no idea what the brown figure was talking about. All Scott knew was fear at that moment. The last thing he remembered was struggling with his last note, and not being able to complete it. He also remembered being visited by the orb, the one that assaulted him. He tried again to focus on the dark figure above him, and still could not see clearly enough to see features, but he did notice that the figure had a faint orange aura about him. This was not the same orb that, on one visit showed genuine concern for him, and then the next hated him.
+*+
Debbie sat silently in the hallway with her children, awaiting the news that she had feared every day for the last year. With her children huddled at her feet on the hospital floor, they hugged each other and prayed. Thankfully, they had planned for this day and had set aside enough money to handle all of their debt and her husband's funeral. It was John's idea, and although she resisted for many months, feeling that she was giving up on her husband's recovery when she finally agreed, she knew it was the sensible thing to do. John is like his father, sensible. She was full of mixed feelings and tormented by her thoughts. This isn't what she wanted. This isn't the way she wanted it to go. These are the words that she told herself as she sat and prayed. She wanted to believe with all of her heart that they were words of truth, but deep inside, she couldn't honestly believe those words. She was sad and she was scared, and she had been that way for many, many months. Every time she would go to visit Scott she would try to hide it, try to put on a bright exterior, but it tore her up inside to see her wonderful husband pinned to a hospital bed. She would touch all of the places that his helpless body was penetrated by a needle, a tube, a probe - trying to will the pain away from him. She would pray for his mind to return to his body, and at the same time, wish that he could just - rest. She wanted it to be over, and that hurt her even more than witnessing her husband's current state. She wanted him to rest. She wanted to rest. When the orderly opened the door and started to walk their way, they all stood and waited, knowing what the orderly's words were going to be. "Mrs. Harris?" "Yes..." "Your husband would like to see you."
+*+
Scott was beyond trying to control his environment. He had decided to settle for surviving. At the time, surviving seemed to mean following the directions being dictated by the entity standing over him. He took a deep breath and exhaled. As the breath escaped his lungs, he could feel the blockage in his throat clear away. He could finally breath again. As his breathing became easier, his eyesight started to clear up. He looked again at the entity standing over him and realized it was a doctor. The doctor smiled down at him, "Welcome back. I am Dr. Solis, can you understand me?" Scott's voice was raspy but understandable, "Yes" then after a moment of hesitation, "Are you real?" Dr. Solis smiled again, "Yes, real as can be. Relax for a moment, I'm going to remove these restraints, and do some quick tests." Scott put his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, "A coma." "Excuse me?" "I was in a blasted coma!" "Yes, as a matter of fact, you were found almost a year ago to the day in a hotel room in Agua Dulce, Texas. You were flown here about a week later, and have been here ever since." Scott turned his head to the hallway and his heart rate quickened. Dr. Solis noticed immediately and looked up from the straps to the monitor, then to Scott. "Is something wrong? How do you feel?" "My wife. My wife is in the hallway. Please, send her in." "I don't know that that would be a good idea just yet Mr. Harris. I still need to make sure..." "You speak as though I may fall over dead, or relapse any minute now - all the more reason to see my wife, don't you think?" Dr. Solis motioned for the orderly to bring Debbie Harris in. He gave Scott a curious glance then asked the obvious, "How did you know she was there?" "I could see her."
+*+
Debbie burst through the door and then stopped so quickly it was as though she had run into an invisible wall. All of the words that she wanted to say to Scott if he ever came out of the coma had drained away. She just stood and stared, awed by the sight of his baby blue eyes and captivated by his smile. She was still standing in the doorway when the orderly brought her back to the real world, "Ma'am, we need to close the door." She stepped into the room, almost afraid to get too close to her husband; afraid he would disappear again somehow. She looked at Dr. Solis, "Is he okay?" "Yes. Somehow he appears to be normal. At least, he appears to be as normal as a person can be after taking a yearlong nap. I don't quite understand it, but I never really do in these cases. The fact that he can speak so well after having a breathing tube in this throat for almost a year is well beyond my understanding. I don't understand how he can speak at all. I've never seen anything like it. Your husband is officially this week's miracle." Scott listened to the conversation like he was watching a television show. It all seemed to be a little surreal to him. He was there and trying to pay attention, but something else was drawing his attention away from the words. At first he thought it was his imagination, or perhaps his unused sight playing games with him. He blinked a few times and tried squinting, but nothing changed - his wife was surrounded by a brilliant blue aura. "It was you in the hotel room. I knew it when I saw you in the hallway." Both the Doctor and Debbie turned to Scott, almost as though they had forgotten that he was in the room. He noted the reaction and smiled, "I guess after you spend a year with a manikin you have to adjust a little, huh?" They both smiled back and Debbie went and sat quietly by her husband's side while Dr. Solis went about his business. The children were brought in as the Doctor finished his tests and made adjustments to Scott's medications; by the time Dr. Solis left the room Scott had gone to sleep.
+*+
Scott woke up feeling totally satisfied, if not somewhat disoriented. Relishing the feeling, he hesitated in opening his eyes. Savor the flavor, was his thought. After coming out of the coma and seeing his family again, he was feeling more peaceful at this moment than he had his entire life. He opened his eyes and looked around the room for his wife and that wonderful peaceful feeling dripped away like wax from a candle as he realized he had once again landed in the hotel room. Instinctively he reached for his ink pen and found it already in his hand. He sat up in the bed and looked around. Nothing had changed. Nothing apparent, he decided. He watched as the usual orbs floated around the room and felt totally detached about the situation; that is what had changed. He wasn't trapped in the room again, he was dreaming. He stood up and walked to the door, and just to prove that his theory was correct - he opened the door and stepped out. He watched as the door cleanly came to a close, and smiled to himself - he was still outside of the room. He stared down the hallway and marveled at the activity all around him. Must be a holiday weekend, he thought. Still trying to decide what he should do, he discovered that he was already walking. He walked straight to the door to the room next to his and stopped. He looked at the doorknob for long moments then decided he should do the obvious. He grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open, "Hello?" He waited a moment or two for an answer to come, and when none was forthcoming, he entered. He saw a little girl sitting on the bed crying softly, while watching Cops. He repeated his greeting, and there was no reaction from the little girl. He carefully walked up to her and looked closely at her face. Liana. This is the girl that had been missing; the girl that he had seen on CNN while he was trapped in the room next door. There was something unusual, he thought, as he looked at her sitting there - her aura was just flickering shades of gray. She was losing herself. "Liana." "Liana!" She couldn't hear him. Of course not, he thought; he's an orb.
+*+
Scott woke up to sunshine beaming through his hospital room window. He could feel the warmth of the sun caressing his skin, and smiled at what was to be the first sensation of the day for him. As he laid there, eyes closed, enjoying the ability to feel, the second was hunger. The third sensation was his wife lying in bed next to him. He didn't need to open his eyes to see her, her beautiful blue aura shined right through his eyelids. He opened his eyes to find his wife's head on the pillow next to him, and her staring at him, "Hi." "Hello there, my sleepy guy." "Have you been there all night?" "You mean have I been here the last two days? Yes." she brushed his hair out of his eyes, "I'm not letting you out of my sight until I know you're not going anywhere. You were smiling a minute ago - what were you thinking about?" "Feeling. In the hotel room, I could do many things, but I could not feel." "Hotel room?" "I'll explain later." They spent long minutes in silence, enjoying each other company before Scott spoke again, "Honey, whatever happened to that girl, Liana De La Vega?" "How did you know about her?" "Ready?" he smiled, "I saw her on TV." "In the hotel room?" "Yes. Does she exist?" "Yes. They found her a few miles away from her home. She is hypoglycemic and apparently her blood sugar dropped, and she lost herself. The found her behind a dumpster, she was just sitting mumbling something about being in big trouble, and needing a candy bar. They brought her here and the poor girl went to sleep that evening and hasn't woken up since. She's in the room next door. How did..." "It's really hard to explain, and I don't know how much time there is..." "How much time?" "Yeah. Honey, I need you to do me a favor. Actually, I need you to do Liana a favor. This is going to sound pretty weird, but I need you to believe me when I tell you it's necessary." "Okay, I'm game, what kind of wife would I be if I didn't heed the warnings of a crazy man that just came out of a yearlong coma?" "Please go to her, hug her, and tell her she's alive." "Scott, are you serious? I don't even know the girl. He parents are outside of her room right now, what would they think." "I told you it was going to sound pretty weird. I can see her parents in the hallway; go and ask them if they would mind if you visited her - I'm sure they'll agree." Debbie got out of Scott's bed and stood next to him. Although the request was definitely unusual, especially after him coming out of a coma only days before, it wasn't as weird or extreme as it sounded. All he wanted her to do was visit a sick child. This just wasn't the conversation she expected to have this morning. She turned to walk out of the room then stopped and looked back at Scott, "You can see her parents?" "Hotel..." "Right" "Wait honey," he reached over to the nightstand next to the bed and retrieved the pen, "put this in her hand." Debbie took the pen from Scott and walked out of the room. Scott watched her as she walked to Liana's parents and stopped for a moment, and then continued on into Liana's room. The thick hospital walls could not hide his wife's beautiful blue aura as it moved to the side of Liana's bed, nor could it hide the merging of colors as Liana's aura slowly slid from a flickering gray to a light green. He admired his wife's lovely glow until it turned and headed back to his room. He tried to stay awake to kiss her and thank her, but by the time she returned he had slipped into a peaceful slumber.Copyright 2008 David Neve |
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| Last Updated ( Friday, 14 March 2008 ) |
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