Reawakening - Friday Morning [Backdated]
A long corridor, stretching out either side into the distance. Doors line the walls, most of them slightly ajar. Slipping in through the cracks comes noise, sounds. Whispered conversations, furtive declarations of love and hate, manic laughter and joyful giggles sneak into the space between the doors.
...i love youi love youiloveilovelove...
...we're leaving...
...christ, just take the cash...
...i want to live, they can't be coming so soon...
...i can't live. life's too dim and it hurts...
...where are my keys...
"Shuddap" the voice that breaks the silence is slurred, groggy. She knows that voice. Wait, she -is- that voice.
Emma opens her eyes and sees the corridor reaching out before her. Turning she observes the same thing. She also knows this place and the doors. She definitely knows them and they should not be open.
The voices increase, speed and intensity gaining as they center in on her. Growing limbs of light and scent, they circle her, tightening the space as they sweep closer in. Emma grits her teeth. The static is appalling. Her fists are clenched and she can feel her fingernails biting into her palm.
But wait. No. That's not her fingernails. The wrong shape. Points of pressure occurring in the wrong place. Emma looks down as the gathering noise whips hair past her face. A diamond sits in her hand, small and imperfectly formed, but a diamond all the same. Emma runs her thumb over one of the edges. Her diamond.
Her hallway.
Her mind.
Emma's head snaps up and the gathering whirlwind is sent skittering. Presences of every taste, flavour and sight are sent flying back to the doors, squeezing out between the cracks. Every door has a doorknob, the doors shudder slightly not quite ready to close. Every door has a doorknob and only I can turn them. The doors swing shut, each one bearing a perfect silver doorknob. The doorknobs twist in unison, each one making a quiet click that resounds like a gunshot in the corridor.
"That's much better." Emma opened her eyes. White roof. White walls. Breasts.
"I'm back!"
...i love youi love youiloveilovelove...
...we're leaving...
...christ, just take the cash...
...i want to live, they can't be coming so soon...
...i can't live. life's too dim and it hurts...
...where are my keys...
"Shuddap" the voice that breaks the silence is slurred, groggy. She knows that voice. Wait, she -is- that voice.
Emma opens her eyes and sees the corridor reaching out before her. Turning she observes the same thing. She also knows this place and the doors. She definitely knows them and they should not be open.
The voices increase, speed and intensity gaining as they center in on her. Growing limbs of light and scent, they circle her, tightening the space as they sweep closer in. Emma grits her teeth. The static is appalling. Her fists are clenched and she can feel her fingernails biting into her palm.
But wait. No. That's not her fingernails. The wrong shape. Points of pressure occurring in the wrong place. Emma looks down as the gathering noise whips hair past her face. A diamond sits in her hand, small and imperfectly formed, but a diamond all the same. Emma runs her thumb over one of the edges. Her diamond.
Her hallway.
Her mind.
Emma's head snaps up and the gathering whirlwind is sent skittering. Presences of every taste, flavour and sight are sent flying back to the doors, squeezing out between the cracks. Every door has a doorknob, the doors shudder slightly not quite ready to close. Every door has a doorknob and only I can turn them. The doors swing shut, each one bearing a perfect silver doorknob. The doorknobs twist in unison, each one making a quiet click that resounds like a gunshot in the corridor.
"That's much better." Emma opened her eyes. White roof. White walls. Breasts.
"I'm back!"