Thursday, November 3, 2016

Fields Of Barley...Vol. 3

Fields of Barley, Vol. 3

(If you want to read this from the beginning, hit the Short Stories, & Otherwise Link above)

Ever since Mark awoke, and he had no idea how long he had been in this room alone, the only voice he heard was his own. Now a second voice filled the space. “Hello Mark. Don’t be afraid.”

It was a woman’s voice. The clear tones and comforting words smashed the wall his mind was building to protect himself. Logical thought immediately vanished from his brain; it simply could not compete with this woman’s voice. Logic had to re-group, to re-assess the situation. Mark knew, however, his logical mind would be back.

The woman spoke again saying simply, “Mark.” At this point she had crossed the void separating the two, stopping within a few feet of him, her face focusing only on him.  “How are you?”

The question hung in the air begging a response, but he was powerless to answer the question. Looking down he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her straight blond hair shimmered like gold wheat in the light and fell weightless on her shoulders. Her deep green eyes pieced his soul, revealing every secret, every pain, every joy he ever had. Standing in front of him was a woman who knew him better than he knew himself. 

The clothes she wore were similar to his, only hers were what could only be described as appropriately feminine. It was her beauty that continued to overwhelm him. He couldn’t stop staring at her and as he did so, he saw something familiar about her. In fact, she reminded him of his wife, Janie, but this stranger with whom he felt an instant kinship was taller, and no one in Janie’s family had green eyes, at least no one he knew.

The silence between the two lingered for what could have been hours, and yet, it may have only lasted seconds. Time did not seem to have any significance in this incredibly strange room. At last, Mark found himself opening his mouth, pushing air past his vocal cords, until he heard sound emitting from his throat. “Fine,” he said. Of all the things on which his mind could have focused, he asked himself this: this woman clearly knows my every thought. She told me not to be afraid when I was terrified, and she knew when my logical mind abandoned me. She certainly knows how I’m doing.

To be continued...

NaNoWriMo Tracker: 395 words yesterday, 1380 total

No comments:

Post a Comment