WARNING! The following story contains explicit depictions of sexual acts. It may also describe non-consensual activity or other illegal activities. If you are under-age, offended by such material or if this kind of material is illegal where you live then DO NOT READ THIS!! julian975@yahoo.com /~julian ==== The Voice In The Mist (rom, no sex) Copyright (c) Julian Renard, 1996-2000 All rights reserved. Paul wandered through the bright hazy mist searching yet again for the source of the voice. It was a woman's voice that he always heard, more beautiful than life itself. It touched something special in him though he never quite understood why. It could ring out brilliant and clear like fine crystal bells on a light spring breeze, or flow gentle and soothing like cool clear waters over soft mossy stones. At other times it was terribly sad, filling him with tears of sorrow and haunting him long after it had gone. Lately this had more often been the case. He never noticed the words, only the voice itself mattered. The compulsion to find its source was overwhelming. The mist swirled around him as always, incredibly thick yet dazzlingly bright, confusing his sense of direction, and distance, and time. He struggled to concentrate and follow the voice for as long as it remained with him but his mind had a tendency to swirl and drift like the very mist around him. Whenever he slowed or his mind grew distracted, he would recall the intense disappointment he felt when the voice had finally gone. From this he would draw the strength to continue on. Sometimes the voice would stop, suddenly and brutally, leaving him desperately holding his breath in anticipation of its next word. Other times it faded, growing steadily distant until it was nothing more than a faint whisper in the breeze. Amongst all his uncertainty however, one thing was constant. It always came back. Paul could not remember a time when he had not heard the voice, but then there was very little he could remember. He sometimes felt that this was all a dream, that soon he would awaken into another life. Yet a number of things convinced him otherwise. For one, he actually did sleep and dream from time to time and when he awoke he was always there, always in the mist. It wasn't possible to have a dream within a dream was it? And those dreams had a different quality to his life in the mist, as if one was more real than the other. There were times however when neither seemed very real. The voice was the one real anchor in this strange existence. It gave him strength and a purpose when little else mattered. Paul awoke with a start, realising only now that he'd fallen asleep. He stared blankly at the perpetual swirling mists trying to contain his grief. He had been listening to the voice and, lulled by its tones, had fallen asleep. And now it was gone. He felt like crying. It had happened again. He'd let his mind wander whilst he should have been searching and now it was gone. In the dreadful lonely silence he began to despair in the face of a dawning dilemma. Of late, each time that the voice came, he found it harder and harder to concentrate on it. It was slipping from him earlier and earlier, and he was starting to fear that if he didn't find it soon then he never would. Mary Somers sat beside the hospital bed fighting the endless struggle against despair. Each day the battle grew harder and each day less of herself remained to fight it. Creeping doubts nagged at the back of her mind, urging her to give in, to accept the facts, but she would not listen to them - not now, and maybe not ever. If she gave up hope then there was nothing left. She gazed upon the motionless figure on the bed. The cuts and bruises had all but healed and it was hard to believe that he was not simply sleeping. But she knew otherwise. She knew it with the conviction of one who refused to stop trying. If there was even the slightest chance that he could hear her, even if only occasionally, then she would keep trying. The alternative was beyond considering. Drawing a long deep breath to gather her strength, she began to talk to him once more. She spoke once again of their early times together. It was only two years ago she realised, but it seemed more like an eternity now. However, in spite of everything, her mood began to brighten as she recalled the start of the best part of her life. Though she relived the moments with fondness, hopelessness and failure were never far away. They crept at the dark edge of her thoughts like beasts in the night that patiently watched and waited. In time she feared they would seek her out and she would no longer have the strength to resist them. She needed him now more than ever before. Her need was so bad it was almost a physical pain. If only he could wrap his arms around her and hold her tight like before. If only... But she refused to dwell on her sadness, their life together deserved a better telling. With the early glimmerings of a smile, she began to talk once more, about the time that he fell into the river on the way to their first picnic. In time she was safely absorbed in her memories once more. Paul felt elated. The voice was back. This time when it had started it seemed closer to him than ever before. He almost felt that if he reached out now he would be actually touch its owner through the mist. He felt encouraged enough to try but his hand passed only through moist air. He refused to be discouraged. This time something was different, something that he could not put his finger on, but then any change was good. Wasn't it? He started to search. Closing his eyes, he turned around in a slow circle trying to determine its direction. He started to walk in the direction he guessed it to be, but after several steps it seemed to grow fainter. He turned and tried to walk back but it grew fainter still. Doubt and frustration began to invade his mood, eroding his excitement and confidence. He was so close! How could he fail when he was so close! If only he could call out to the owner of the voice, beg her to keep talking, tell her he was searching for her. The voice paused. For God's sake, please don't stop. He began to struggle blindly, floundering in a state of near panic, convinced that if he did not find her this time then she would be lost to him forever. Something was certainly different. Something was wrong. Her voice was still clear but it had begun to take on a strange unfamiliar quality. For the first time that he could remember the mist around him began to grow dim. He tried to run back the way he came but the darkness enveloped him wherever he went. It's not fair, his mind wailed. To come so close and now this. Why now? The world around him grew blacker and with utter despair he heard the voice grow fainter still. A bitter coldness began to creep into him as the black became absolute. With a final wail of horror the darkness slowly began to invade his mind. A feeling of dread came over nurse Sarah Walker as she turned around to the source of the alarm. Room 502, and from the indicators it didn't look good. Of all the rooms in this ward it had to be that one. She pushed her chair back and hurried for the door. All of the coma cases were sad but this was one the worst. Paul Somers, struck by a speed boat on the second day of his honeymoon, right in front of his wife. Why did it have to be this one? As she ran down the long hall she only hoped that his wife was not there with him right now. Then she heard the unmistakable sounds of sobbing coming from down the hall. Paul remembered. When the blackness came upon him he started to remember. Is this what happens when you start to die? He remembered the boat, the terrible pain in his head, cold green water all around him. How long ago had that been? He remembered his life, his real life. He remembered Mary and his heart almost burst. He missed her so badly. How hard must this be for her? And now, in a final act of unfairness he was dying. Would it hurt? He felt cold, he felt some pain, he felt... He felt? His breath caught in his throat as he allowed himself a small glimmer of hope. And then he realised what he had just done and forced himself to relax. He had held his breath! He exhaled slowly and luxuriated in the long forgotten sensation of warm air through his nostrils. He was alive. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them, then opened them again more slowly as the room grew sharper in his vision. It was dark, but the hallway cast a bright shaft of yellow light through the partially open door. Turning his head slowly he looked beside the bed and his eyes filled with tears of joy, blurring his vision once more. There was Mary, asleep in a chair, as yet unaware that he had awakened. Beautiful Mary, the voice that had stayed with him when he was otherwise lost. His dearest love. With an almost unbearable joy he watched her sleep for several minutes. How would she react when he awoke her? He looked down at himself and saw a sorry looking body covered with wires and pads. He tested his arm and found that he could still move it. Though his muscles and joints ached from their stiffness, any feeling was better than none. With an uncooperative hand he peeled the wires from his chest. It was the least he could do to make himself presentable. A shrill sound started up from somewhere in the distance but he did not even notice. Slowly and gently he reached out to touch Mary's cheek. Mary awoke with a start, then relaxed, blinking into the light as her eyes tried to adjust. Murmuring softly, she asked the nurse what the time was. 'Hello.' A voice said. She spun her head around in its direction and froze with disbelief. She was too scared to even hope, until she saw the hand that was reaching out to her. Great shuddering sobs of joy shook through her as she leapt forward and hugged him, calling his name over and over. His gentle caring voice spoke softly in her ear, calm and soothing and full of love. So overwhelmed were they with joy, they did not even notice the woman bursting through the doorway, stopping to stare at them in disbelief. They did not see her face soften and her eyes growing moist as the dreadful scene she had anticipated was transformed into something that would live with her always. Nor did they see her quietly back out into the hallway beyond. They saw only each other. ==== Copyright (c) Julian Renard, 1996 All rights reserved. Permission is granted for this work to be archived or redistributed in electronic form as long as this notice is included and no modifications whatsoever are made. It may not be distributed in printed form or for profit without the author's prior written consent. julian975@yahoo.com /~julian