Lucid

 [WP] Your brain woke up before anything else. It hurt, your leg, your side, and your head. It was mostly quiet, except for the sound of fighting in the distance. Finally, you open your eyes and you can see. There are bodies everywhere, not necessarily dead but not moving. But, you can’t remember why…

*****

I can’t say I woke up because at that point, it just felt like only my brain was faintly running, and I was barely alive and conscious. The first thing was the realization that indeed, I was alive. I was breathing, and my heart was beating, I did not understand why this was the first thing that popped up in my mind. What had happened to make the first thought I had as I woke up from this unusual slumber (?) the thought of my being alive?

And worse still, I was thankful I was alive.

I made to stand, but it felt like a thousand six-inch nails were being hammered into my body, from my neck, to my spine, to my legs. Into each and every nerve concerned with that movement. It was then that my brain actually started running again, registering sensations. As the numbness wore off, I realized that I was in severe pain. All over; my head, my sides, my chest, my legs, everything was engulfed in excruciating pain.

I couldn’t even groan and grimace because every muscle ached. It hurt to even breathe. I wondered how people who were sick to this extent lived like this. I wished for deathbt0 come a few times as the pain coursed through my body, then after a while the intensity reduced. Or maybe the masochistic side of my nervous system shone through, and the pain became a bit endurable. I wasn’t even thinking straight at this point.

Finally, sounds began to filter in and register. My ears were working, and that was a relief, given the state of my physical body at this point. And the sounds were those of fighting. Not medieval sword fighting – which would have been a weird twist but a possible explanation for why my body was jacked up like this – but of hand to hand combat, complete with body slams, groans and what not. It sounded like a brutal, savage fight, and I hated those.

I wondered if I had gotten involved or if I’d even thrown hands like that. That didn’t sound right. I had no recollection of how I got to this point, and what happened to me; all I could barely manage to know was that my name was Fred. All my memories were jumbled. But if I did get involved, it did make sense that I was like this, because I wasn’t a fan of violence, so I’d have been rinsed quickly by whoever the opponent was.

After a while, I finally mustered the courage – and energy – to open my eyes. Luckily, it just took them a moment to focus, and then I could see the scene around me clearly. At least I could still see. I licked the inside of my mouth, and yeah, I could almost taste the bad breath that mad e it feel like I’d not opened my mouth for a week. So all my senses were working, although in various states of strain.

And the scene in front of me was horrible. It felt like I was on the set of John Wick, and I was one of the goons that were trying to kill him. I was one of more than fifteen bodies strewn all over the ground in what looked like a lounge room.

There was broken bottles and liquor poured all over the ground; the pinball machine had fallen over a man who sat on the floor with his back to the wall, his head bent and blood all over his shirt. I could see the heaving of his chest as he breathed, and then I knew he was alive. In fact, like me, all of these guys were alive. They were just unable to move, and it seemed like I was the only conscious one.

And then in the center of the room were two muscle-bound men going at it like they were being paid to do this. One of them had a lot of blood stains all over his clothes, and yet he did not seem injured. In fact, his bold movements made me realize that this guy was the one who’d crushed everyone else in the room, and his opponent was the last one standing.

That didn;t even last for long, because he soon got the guy bent over the pool table, slamming his head against the edge before grabbing the pool stick and driving it right through the man’s spine with a frightening force. Then he grabbed the eight ball and used it to c smack the man’s head against the edge of the table.

I could hear the man’s skull crack. Unlike the rest of us, he wanted to kill this one. He badly wanted to, and that kill felt personal, because that was a brutal way to go. When he was done, he exhaled, and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his forehead.

“There wasn’t a objective need to beat you all, since he was the one I was after,” he muttered to no one in particular. “But I won’t be happy if anyone talks to the police. So this was necessary.”

Then he looked at me.

“Up already? You’re a tenacious one.”

And I watched on, unable to move, as he walked up to me and stomped my face, sending me back to the unconscious oblivion I woke up from.

*****

Back to Oneshots for a while? Maybe until I see something that makes me want to work on a series.

Thanks for Reading!