Untitled

Untitled

A Story by S Copeland
"

This is a very personal piece. A piece from my past which I still live with and experience every day... This is also the first piece of work I've ever let anybody read who didn't need to.

"

I don’t expect you to understand what you’re about to read, how could anybody ever understand? There are times in life when you feel more alone than beyond what you thought imaginable... This isn’t the case for me.

On these vibrant pages lies a bleak past. A miniscule fraction of my life which changed everything; changed the way I view the world. A time which taught me to see the beauty in everything, to live every day like my last and most of all; to remember to live.

This bright yet desolate confinement is awful. I’ve never minded my own company but I can’t handle this. It isn’t what I’m used to. I’m not free. You’d think after years of hiding and ignoring these voices and the imagery I’d be a little used to it. It never fades; never eases for a moment’s respite. Sometimes, these delusions are caused merely by the headaches or sometimes... It feels like it’s something else.

I can’t shake the feeling that I’m constantly in the company of others, that I’m forever being watched. Even in the ashen, bleak walls of my solitude they linger still. After what feels like an eternity of migraines and pain, the hallucinations are getting worse.

It’s been seven years now. Seven years of never truly knowing reality from fantasy. It’s as confusing as ever trying to comprehend whether what I’m seeing is or isn’t fiction. I’m working on it. Sometimes it just seems to be a lone voice gnawing the surface of my mind and other times; other times it’s much worse. I’m alone now, or at least what people perceive to be alone.

The pain is searing through my soul, splitting like an atom in an irreversible cataclysm. Incoherent cries consume my thoughts in an epic requiem. All negative. All filled with anguish and rage. There isn’t much point trying to distinguish their echoes, I know what they want, it seems to be the same message every time. They want me to fear, to feel isolated and vulnerable amongst them. My only option is to try and drown them out. To create harmony from chaos. I’ll try what I usually do again; close the curtains, light some coffee scented candles, play some calming music and draw. It doesn’t stop the pain or the delusions but it’s a welcome reprise and works as a distraction at least.

Something’s different. These aren’t subsiding. They’re becoming stronger, more vicious, more determined than normal. What was that? Did I really see what I think I saw or is it yet another mind game? There can’t surely be someone breaking in now, the house is full.

Nothing. Not a whisper from downstairs. Why is that though? Is it because they’re in shock at this intrusion or was it just a vision again? I guess there’s only one way to find out...

I have an annoying habit of over-thinking every situation to the extent that I expect the worst and this is no exception. My brain is in overdrive, my heart mimicking the rhythmic beating of a hummingbird’s wing.

The first few steps towards my bedroom door are over in seconds. I’m still trying to listen out for any noise, any signal of motion from the rooms below. The voices are louder now, drowning out the world, ever urging me onwards. They know what awaits me just beyond the safety of my room.

Then I see him.

Recently we converted the loft into an office space and work area for when I’m feeling creative. It’s a space purely for my tranquillity, to escape from the world and immerse myself in the colours of the palette. It’s a haven. It was a haven...

The midnight black hair concealing the ragged flesh beneath, though not entirely. Through the greasy wisps flickering across his face I see those eyes. Those eyes, burning with rage, ablaze with blood crimson and wild yellows.

Panic. That’s all I feel right now. I have to run, I need to run but I’m frozen. My body longs to react where my mind is lacking. I manage to stumble into my room, wedging myself there so it can’t be opened. Now he can’t get to me, now I’m at least partially safe. Then I realise, now I’m trapped! Caged in this room whilst my family are vulnerable beneath us but what can I do?  I have no way to them but through him. The ability to shout has long since forsaken me. He has to be a part of my imagination, how else would he have broke into the house, passed my family and climbed into my haven without detection?

I have to face him. Either way it is the only option I have left.

As I stand and try to conjure up courage, the ice attacks my spine. He’s saying something, something I can’t make out but what? If the criticism in my mind would subside for just a moment I would hear so clearly. They obey.

“I can wait here all day. There’s no way out and you know it.” His voice is as ferocious as his appearance. “I know what you’re thinking; you’re an open book to me.”

His arrogance is overbearing, “are you trying to mock me?” I demand. “If you really think I’m that predictable then you’re in for a shock!” My hand reaches for the handle before realisation of my motives sets in. The landing seems bitter, basking in the moon’s ambience as I see the full threat before me.

“If you’re going to kill me just do it, I’m not afraid of you or death!” I bellow. The silence of the lower floor shatters as the stairs dance under the footsteps of my mother. Yet still he remains unhindered in his purpose.

“Such a brave act of you...” So softly and pitifully spoken, yet only for a second. “Now embrace it!”

 

As the crimson waterfall cascades from the wound, the world fades away... Once again, I’m enclosed in darkness, trapped within my own mind. Alone but safe; safe for how long?

 

Remember to live...

Memento Vivere...

© 2012 S Copeland


My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Featured Review

I really liked this piece! It was really fluid and kept me wanting to devour it. I like the ending phrase, Latin right? At first I thought this piece was going to be one thing, but is is another entirely, and this was a nice surprise! I loved your descriptions! Brilliant!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

S Copeland

11 Years Ago

It is indeed latin and means 'remember to live' or 'reminder of life'.
Just out of curiosity, .. read more



Reviews

I really enjoyed this piece. Being able to relate in some ways, it touched me. It was so beautifully written, with just the perfect amount of suspense and a hint of dread. I had to re-read the ending, not sure if I had read it right. It was a wonderful piece, and I look forward to reading more from you

Posted 4 Years Ago


This is simply beautiful and creatively done. I truly felt your passion as a writer as I read through this piece. You are absolutely talented! Amazing writing and I hope to see more.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You built this beautifully. You eased us into the scene with such skill that I wanted to keep reading. I have a short attention span and I tend to skim pieces- but every word begged to be read. And I did. I have these moments, as well. You described your experience with surgical skill. Thank you for posting this piece.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

S Copeland

11 Years Ago

I have a lot of personal experience with this problem so I should, in theory, be able to describe it.. read more
I really liked this piece! It was really fluid and kept me wanting to devour it. I like the ending phrase, Latin right? At first I thought this piece was going to be one thing, but is is another entirely, and this was a nice surprise! I loved your descriptions! Brilliant!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

S Copeland

11 Years Ago

It is indeed latin and means 'remember to live' or 'reminder of life'.
Just out of curiosity, .. read more
Liking this, Mr. Stu. I get to spy your writings, and I likes what I spies.
Quite a... vivid use of words. Vivid? Sure, that seems to explain it.
I demand MOAR STORIES!


Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

711 Views
7 Reviews
Rating
Added on October 25, 2012
Last Updated on October 25, 2012

Author

S Copeland
S Copeland

Newcastle Upon Tyne, United Kingdom



About
A little bit about me... I'm a father, a friend, an artist and a perfectionist. I'm very misunderstood and complicated; never giving too much away about myself. I guess that would make me, in a sen.. more..