A Deathly Shade of Pale - Preview
I am amongst the lost ones now. Disjointed, fragmented, like I am only pieces of myself, an unknown quantity no longer wholly me, ground to dust and dispersed like slivers of shattered glass, carried as the breeze carries grains across dunes of sand, far and wide and without their own defined and fixed space, without their own identity. Is it possible that in those pieces are parts of me now irretrievable, like an emotion no longer felt, a memory without recollection, a lesson unlearned? Has the whole of me – my body, my mind, my soul – become so unrecognisable that I am no longer myself; that whatever I feel that I am, is simply not, and I am only a single fragment, drifting in desolation and bewilderment, like that single grain of sand, until it snuffs out like dispelled smoke, as all other fragments have been or will soon follow?
Consciousness thuds into my brain, hammering at my skull with relentless malice, daring the fog clouding my mind to clear, to burn my retinas with the truth of clarity. In this fog floats the remaining pieces of me, in a cloud of dislocation. The pain sears through my head, ringing down my ear canals, breath catching in my throat as if taken for the first time. Light-headedness is like a hot, clammy hand clasping my brain, sucking me down into a vacuum.
Vision blurred; I am aware only of the cold. My fingertips feel enclosed in icicles, breeze ruffling the hairs on my hands with a coating of moisture. I startle, rising quickly, and realise how stiff my body has become, collapsing back and hitting solid ground – yet feel it sway beneath me. A wave of disorientation, like the cloud has formed a fist with which to break me down; I raise my arms to protect my face from the blows. But they do not come. My breathing sounds shallow to my ears, alien and not from my own body, part of the tapestry of the looming threat that does not manifest, but simply hovers, its shadow a constant and lingering spectre.
I drop my arms, hearing the splash as my fingertips collide with the iciness once more. Only now does clarity break a small dawn into my consciousness; I am beside water, my cold hand and arm the victim of its selfish kisses. I pull my hand away, reaching instinctively to wipe away the water on my coat. I stroke the fleece lining, its thick durability, understanding now why only parts of my body feel the chill, others insulated. Fragmented awareness.
My movements have triggered nerve endings to send sluggish messages to my brain, the burning crick in my neck forcing its way through the laziness, demanding to be acknowledged. I am slouched into a corner and my hand moves from my coat to what lies beneath me. It is solid, neither the soft sand nor rough earth I had expected. It is smooth, not the rugged formation of rock. My skin catches, pierced, blood drawn. A splinter. I am on a wooden surface. I force my body upward to relieve the pain, the ground rocking, my hand gripping an edge beyond which is thickening fog. I am on a boat, a small wooden boat in a sea of mist.
I listen to the silence, staring into the blackened water and the thick blanket of grey that hovers above it. I can see no more than a few feet beyond the edge. I watch the impenetrable blackness of the water and wonder at what is lurking just beneath the surface, that if my hand were to break the rippling calm if I would be dragged from where I sit. In the dark, there is no indication of the water’s depth or the dangers it obscures. By night, it is a great slumbering beast that when awakened will erupt with hisses and roars. But for now, its sound is silence, but for the lapping at the sides of the boat, the gentle breathing of sleep.
I cannot remember how I came to be here, what led me to set off from the shore, nor even how far away that may be. I crane my sore neck, only to see more fog thickening in my vision, the black water beyond the stern of the wooden vessel. I climb to my feet carefully, slowly, the boat rocking with my movements. I grip the side as I stand, stooping, praying I will not be tipped over into the murky depths. As I steady myself, I pull my coat tight around me, squinting into the fog. There is nothing to see.
I register movement to my left. From the little I see, it cannot be a large boat on which I find myself, suggesting the movement is at its bow. I hear dragging in the water, subtle under the constant lapping against wood. Again, my eyes detect movement, a flash of ivory dim amongst the fog.
“Hello?” My voice cracks in my throat, the words escaping in a hoarse whisper. I clear my throat soundlessly, now unsure whether I ought to call out again.
Beneath the swell of the water, I hear the ripple of musical notes, incongruous in this cavern of mist and water. It is far away, a glimpse of the land I left behind or a memory I can’t quite reach out and hold, I cannot be sure which. No longer am I stood on the deck; I dance, swirling in circles, no longer in my heavy lined coat, dressed in tails, my partner nestled in my arms, as elegant as she is beautiful. My hand reaches to touch her face, but she is gone, disintegrating into mist, her image now unclear in my mind.
___
A Deathly Shade of Pale will be available from Amazon and Lulu.com on Hallowe'en, with other retailers to follow.
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Consciousness thuds into my brain, hammering at my skull with relentless malice, daring the fog clouding my mind to clear, to burn my retinas with the truth of clarity. In this fog floats the remaining pieces of me, in a cloud of dislocation. The pain sears through my head, ringing down my ear canals, breath catching in my throat as if taken for the first time. Light-headedness is like a hot, clammy hand clasping my brain, sucking me down into a vacuum.
Vision blurred; I am aware only of the cold. My fingertips feel enclosed in icicles, breeze ruffling the hairs on my hands with a coating of moisture. I startle, rising quickly, and realise how stiff my body has become, collapsing back and hitting solid ground – yet feel it sway beneath me. A wave of disorientation, like the cloud has formed a fist with which to break me down; I raise my arms to protect my face from the blows. But they do not come. My breathing sounds shallow to my ears, alien and not from my own body, part of the tapestry of the looming threat that does not manifest, but simply hovers, its shadow a constant and lingering spectre.
I drop my arms, hearing the splash as my fingertips collide with the iciness once more. Only now does clarity break a small dawn into my consciousness; I am beside water, my cold hand and arm the victim of its selfish kisses. I pull my hand away, reaching instinctively to wipe away the water on my coat. I stroke the fleece lining, its thick durability, understanding now why only parts of my body feel the chill, others insulated. Fragmented awareness.
My movements have triggered nerve endings to send sluggish messages to my brain, the burning crick in my neck forcing its way through the laziness, demanding to be acknowledged. I am slouched into a corner and my hand moves from my coat to what lies beneath me. It is solid, neither the soft sand nor rough earth I had expected. It is smooth, not the rugged formation of rock. My skin catches, pierced, blood drawn. A splinter. I am on a wooden surface. I force my body upward to relieve the pain, the ground rocking, my hand gripping an edge beyond which is thickening fog. I am on a boat, a small wooden boat in a sea of mist.
I listen to the silence, staring into the blackened water and the thick blanket of grey that hovers above it. I can see no more than a few feet beyond the edge. I watch the impenetrable blackness of the water and wonder at what is lurking just beneath the surface, that if my hand were to break the rippling calm if I would be dragged from where I sit. In the dark, there is no indication of the water’s depth or the dangers it obscures. By night, it is a great slumbering beast that when awakened will erupt with hisses and roars. But for now, its sound is silence, but for the lapping at the sides of the boat, the gentle breathing of sleep.
I cannot remember how I came to be here, what led me to set off from the shore, nor even how far away that may be. I crane my sore neck, only to see more fog thickening in my vision, the black water beyond the stern of the wooden vessel. I climb to my feet carefully, slowly, the boat rocking with my movements. I grip the side as I stand, stooping, praying I will not be tipped over into the murky depths. As I steady myself, I pull my coat tight around me, squinting into the fog. There is nothing to see.
I register movement to my left. From the little I see, it cannot be a large boat on which I find myself, suggesting the movement is at its bow. I hear dragging in the water, subtle under the constant lapping against wood. Again, my eyes detect movement, a flash of ivory dim amongst the fog.
“Hello?” My voice cracks in my throat, the words escaping in a hoarse whisper. I clear my throat soundlessly, now unsure whether I ought to call out again.
Beneath the swell of the water, I hear the ripple of musical notes, incongruous in this cavern of mist and water. It is far away, a glimpse of the land I left behind or a memory I can’t quite reach out and hold, I cannot be sure which. No longer am I stood on the deck; I dance, swirling in circles, no longer in my heavy lined coat, dressed in tails, my partner nestled in my arms, as elegant as she is beautiful. My hand reaches to touch her face, but she is gone, disintegrating into mist, her image now unclear in my mind.
___
A Deathly Shade of Pale will be available from Amazon and Lulu.com on Hallowe'en, with other retailers to follow.
Visit me on Facebook
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