DROWN

Posted on 07 Feb 2016 @ 11:08pm by Ensign K'os Beaumont

298 words; about a 1 minute read

Waves of blue sound bounce off the walls and reverberate around me. Sizzling to the surface like bubbles of static. A single semitone rings out into my ears. A perfect G-flat. 369.9 Hertz stretches into memories best forgotten; always remembered. The cold cloth over my face. The fabric scratches roughly, I see swirls of yellow and green, my father’s voice asking me if I want the drowning to stop. Anxiety wells in my chest. Water. I feel water all over my face. In my mouth. Choking.

“Here is that status report, Ensign.” Her voice is enharmonic to the tone of my memory. Different, but the same.

I don’t know who said that, I didn’t look at her. The PADD in my hands feels slippery and the numbers look jumbled. I blink, but nothing. I blink again; memories of trees come to mind. It’s beautiful. I remember the pattern the bark made, the sound of the wind in the leaves. I don’t remember who I was with.

There, I can see the status report. The only thing I see within the numbers are more work, and less sleep. That droning, G-flat doesn’t escape me. It follows me like visual tracers as it ebbs and flows in volume.

I’m so thirsty. I lick my lips, but my tongue is dry. Rough like the cloth that had been over my face. Remembered in detail as if it had just happened.

The glass of water on my desk taunts me. I want to drink it. Maybe my hands won’t shake this time. Maybe I won’t choke and cough after I take a sip. Maybe this time.

“Do you want the drowning to stop, son?”

RSS Feed