FOTD #2 - Sprechgesang
Author: Misa
Story: Comfortably Numb
Challenge: Flavour of the Day - sprechgesang (a vocal style intermediate between speech and singing but without exact pitch intonation)
Word Count: 424
Warnings: Comfortably Numb has scenes of drug abuse, self harm and attempted suicide. There is mention of the latter in this piece.
At precisely thirteen hundred hours, the curtain drew back and a Thalimain entered the small area of space. An androgynous species, its uniform height, breadth and skin colour gave me no clue as to its actual sex. I’d heard rumours they were hermaphrodites. However, since every example had been intensely private about that matter, my curiosity had gone unanswered.
“I am Toth.” Toth’s voice sounded male. As well as flat, inviting no conversation. “I am to escort you to your appointment with Miss Arke.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“Then I shall assist.”
I’d have argued, but Toth didn’t seem the type to pay any attention. Thalimains were a pacifist species, with no word for suicide. I knew Toth wouldn’t approve of my actions. The consultant couldn’t have chosen a better minder.
I was asked no questions, offered no companionship. Yet for all its cold shouldering, Toth’s hands were gentle as it helped me dress. I was allowed to shift myself into the waiting wheelchair. Toth tucked a blanket over my lap and then pushed me along long, silent corridors until we reached the door bearing the psychiatrist’s name.
Toth took a slim sliver card from a pocket and pressed it to the entry lock situated by the door. This slid back and I was pushed into a room that seemed very out of place. Gone were the stark white walls and sterile blandness, replaced by butter yellow paint and large windows overlooking a garden of bright wildflowers. One window opened like a door, letting in the first fresh air I’d breathed in weeks.
Squatted amongst the verdant foliage, Reva Arke looked even more gorgeous. Her black hair hung loose around her perfect face, her violet eyes gleaming as she murmured something halfway between speaking and singing. She looked up as the wheels of my chair ground the gravel, and her wide smile of delight caused my stomach to flip.
The chill darkness of my depression lifted, allowing me to feel something other than bone-deep weariness, and what I experienced was a sharp frisson of pure lust. I wanted her hands to touch me as gently as she fondled the flowers surrounding her, wanted to hear her soft voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I didn’t care that those desires more than likely crossed some line about therapist/patient relationships. I wanted her.
And from the way she stared at me, lips slightly parted and a cute flush on her cheeks, she read that want as clearly as if I’d stated it out loud.
Story: Comfortably Numb
Challenge: Flavour of the Day - sprechgesang (a vocal style intermediate between speech and singing but without exact pitch intonation)
Word Count: 424
Warnings: Comfortably Numb has scenes of drug abuse, self harm and attempted suicide. There is mention of the latter in this piece.
At precisely thirteen hundred hours, the curtain drew back and a Thalimain entered the small area of space. An androgynous species, its uniform height, breadth and skin colour gave me no clue as to its actual sex. I’d heard rumours they were hermaphrodites. However, since every example had been intensely private about that matter, my curiosity had gone unanswered.
“I am Toth.” Toth’s voice sounded male. As well as flat, inviting no conversation. “I am to escort you to your appointment with Miss Arke.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“Then I shall assist.”
I’d have argued, but Toth didn’t seem the type to pay any attention. Thalimains were a pacifist species, with no word for suicide. I knew Toth wouldn’t approve of my actions. The consultant couldn’t have chosen a better minder.
I was asked no questions, offered no companionship. Yet for all its cold shouldering, Toth’s hands were gentle as it helped me dress. I was allowed to shift myself into the waiting wheelchair. Toth tucked a blanket over my lap and then pushed me along long, silent corridors until we reached the door bearing the psychiatrist’s name.
Toth took a slim sliver card from a pocket and pressed it to the entry lock situated by the door. This slid back and I was pushed into a room that seemed very out of place. Gone were the stark white walls and sterile blandness, replaced by butter yellow paint and large windows overlooking a garden of bright wildflowers. One window opened like a door, letting in the first fresh air I’d breathed in weeks.
Squatted amongst the verdant foliage, Reva Arke looked even more gorgeous. Her black hair hung loose around her perfect face, her violet eyes gleaming as she murmured something halfway between speaking and singing. She looked up as the wheels of my chair ground the gravel, and her wide smile of delight caused my stomach to flip.
The chill darkness of my depression lifted, allowing me to feel something other than bone-deep weariness, and what I experienced was a sharp frisson of pure lust. I wanted her hands to touch me as gently as she fondled the flowers surrounding her, wanted to hear her soft voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I didn’t care that those desires more than likely crossed some line about therapist/patient relationships. I wanted her.
And from the way she stared at me, lips slightly parted and a cute flush on her cheeks, she read that want as clearly as if I’d stated it out loud.