Saturday, 14 April 2012

Terror Scribes Teaser 7: Mark West

His could still hear his pulse, the clicking in his mouth, the soft shuffle of his tongue along his palate but there was no breath. Cold fear roughly caressed his heart and he inhaled so deeply that spots danced before his eyes. He swiped them away with a leaden hand, exhaled and inhaled again quickly so that not a moment was lost. He sat up in bed, panicked, in an attempt to keep his airways straight, all the while keeping his breathing going—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. He pulled off his blindfold. What was happening?

He stood up, the simple act requiring more exertion than he realised. Inhale—quick, quick—exhale. Keep it going.

Taking deep breaths and very quick exhales he worked his way to the bathroom, pulling the light switch and temporarily blinding himself. He thought about how painful the light was on his eyes and then felt tightness in his lungs.

Inhale. Exhale.

He opened his eyes slowly and walked to the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair looked like Elvis’ on a bad day, which was normal. He eyes were slightly bloodshot and that too was normal. He felt another tightness in his chest.

Inhale. Exhale.

“Jesus, what’s going on?”


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