When I realize this my eyes go wide and so do his. I scramble to get to my feet which are quite difficult in this dress and back away. He grunts and sits up, not looking at me but past me. Obviously he isn't blind but I'm not invisible either. Faintly I hear someone mumbling but I don't know who. Unless I was mistaken, only that man and I are in the room, and neither of us has moved our mouths to speak. The voice becomes loud enough for me to understand what is saying. It seems to be trying to communicate with someone but is having great difficulty doing it. "Lucy? Lucy?" The voice calls, "If you can hear me please speak up!" The man in the room is sitting vey still and his eyes are glistening. He stands up, cups his hands around his mouth, and cries out desperately, "Lucy! Lucy if you can hear me let me know! I need you Lucy. More than you can ever imagine." He says the last sentence quietly and on the word “imagine” his voice breaks. A tear slides down his cheek slowly, he doesn't stop to wipe it. He drops heavily onto his knees and I look him up and down. His eyes are the same as mine, light with a dark edge and his hair that is graying slightly seems to be brown, but it is hard to tell with all the dirt, blood, and grease covering it. He looks about six feet tall and his body is weak with starvation and exhaustion. He shuts his eyes tightly and I can see the wrinkles that have formed in his face, on his forehead, in between his eyebrows, and at the edge of his eyes. I hear the voice in my head again, "Why haven't I died yet? Why must they make me suffer so without my Lucy?" With that the room starts to twirl and my stomach has butterflies again and I know I'm about to go, but I don't want to leave. I stick out my hand to touch what looks like a blob of the man's face, but I am already gone and falling.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
27th Piece
This is the 25th post to the book I was talking about in my "What Blog Is" post.
When I realize this my eyes go wide and so do his. I scramble to get to my feet which are quite difficult in this dress and back away. He grunts and sits up, not looking at me but past me. Obviously he isn't blind but I'm not invisible either. Faintly I hear someone mumbling but I don't know who. Unless I was mistaken, only that man and I are in the room, and neither of us has moved our mouths to speak. The voice becomes loud enough for me to understand what is saying. It seems to be trying to communicate with someone but is having great difficulty doing it. "Lucy? Lucy?" The voice calls, "If you can hear me please speak up!" The man in the room is sitting vey still and his eyes are glistening. He stands up, cups his hands around his mouth, and cries out desperately, "Lucy! Lucy if you can hear me let me know! I need you Lucy. More than you can ever imagine." He says the last sentence quietly and on the word “imagine” his voice breaks. A tear slides down his cheek slowly, he doesn't stop to wipe it. He drops heavily onto his knees and I look him up and down. His eyes are the same as mine, light with a dark edge and his hair that is graying slightly seems to be brown, but it is hard to tell with all the dirt, blood, and grease covering it. He looks about six feet tall and his body is weak with starvation and exhaustion. He shuts his eyes tightly and I can see the wrinkles that have formed in his face, on his forehead, in between his eyebrows, and at the edge of his eyes. I hear the voice in my head again, "Why haven't I died yet? Why must they make me suffer so without my Lucy?" With that the room starts to twirl and my stomach has butterflies again and I know I'm about to go, but I don't want to leave. I stick out my hand to touch what looks like a blob of the man's face, but I am already gone and falling.
When I realize this my eyes go wide and so do his. I scramble to get to my feet which are quite difficult in this dress and back away. He grunts and sits up, not looking at me but past me. Obviously he isn't blind but I'm not invisible either. Faintly I hear someone mumbling but I don't know who. Unless I was mistaken, only that man and I are in the room, and neither of us has moved our mouths to speak. The voice becomes loud enough for me to understand what is saying. It seems to be trying to communicate with someone but is having great difficulty doing it. "Lucy? Lucy?" The voice calls, "If you can hear me please speak up!" The man in the room is sitting vey still and his eyes are glistening. He stands up, cups his hands around his mouth, and cries out desperately, "Lucy! Lucy if you can hear me let me know! I need you Lucy. More than you can ever imagine." He says the last sentence quietly and on the word “imagine” his voice breaks. A tear slides down his cheek slowly, he doesn't stop to wipe it. He drops heavily onto his knees and I look him up and down. His eyes are the same as mine, light with a dark edge and his hair that is graying slightly seems to be brown, but it is hard to tell with all the dirt, blood, and grease covering it. He looks about six feet tall and his body is weak with starvation and exhaustion. He shuts his eyes tightly and I can see the wrinkles that have formed in his face, on his forehead, in between his eyebrows, and at the edge of his eyes. I hear the voice in my head again, "Why haven't I died yet? Why must they make me suffer so without my Lucy?" With that the room starts to twirl and my stomach has butterflies again and I know I'm about to go, but I don't want to leave. I stick out my hand to touch what looks like a blob of the man's face, but I am already gone and falling.
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