Ficlets

Primal Beyond: Sleep not Coma

For a boy, check that, for a man who has been asleep for 6 years, you would think that upon my awakening I’d be full of energy. However, since my eyes first set eyes upon Molly, now a woman for Christ sake, I found it draining; exhausting.
This time, within the darkness of my slumber, no voices spoke to me out of the mists of my mind. I was alone.
Face fleeted past me, but far too quickly for me to discern one from the next. During my brief time in the waking world, only one face was as clear as a photograph.
Molly’s.
She was in a red-dress today. With her long, curled brown hair over her shoulder. Her eyes were as beautful as ever; green bespeckled with brown walnut. Her face was gentle, worried, and even, still, playful.
She was beautiful.
“Chris, stop it!” said Molly, “You’re being childish,”
“Stop talking to me like you’re my mother; you’re NOT !”
“Let go, Chris, you’re hurting me,”
“Don’t make me hurt you, Molly,”
“Molly?” I forced my eyes to open.
Was it a dream?
I wasn’t so sure.

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