Hope all had an amazing Labor Day (Yeah, I’m a bit late saying it.). I sure did, spent the entire day writing and editing. No better way than to let my imagination soar wild while I’m hard at work creating another wonderful entertaining story.
Now, onto this week’s phrase scene. Not sure why I chose the phrase Fade to Black, but I think it fits the scene in more than one-way. At least in my mind it does. I can also see a few other phrases that could’ve inspired such a scene. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this week’s post and remember:
Let your imagination soar when you read.
* * * Unedited Scene * * *
Time stood still. Literally.
The world around him had come to halting crash. Cars frozen in the middle of the asphalt roads. Children’s beach balls hung in mid-air. Parents racing after their children stopped in mid-step. Water from the parks cement pond was suspended in air. It was a beautiful sight to see, even if it scared the living shit out Jacob.
“This was all created for you.”
The same deep dark male voice that had plagued his dreams for the last ten years of his life flowed around the stale, motionless world.
“Who are you? What do you want? Where are you? Answer me, now.”
Okay, might have been easier for the mysterious voice to do so if one question, instead of three, had been tossed his way
“Answers in due time, first you need to have your mind opened.”
His what? What the hell did that mean? Before Jacob could slam a few more inquires at the strange voice, his mind filled with a burning, stinging, stabbing pain.
“Fuck!” Jacob’s hand flew to his head and his knees buckled. “What are you doing?”
“Relax, go with it and all will be revealed.”
Jacob struggled to remain on his feet, but ended up in heap on the dark green patch of park grass. He searched for something to push himself up, but his surrounding had faded to black. Jacob would like to say he wasn’t scared, but he couldn’t. He hated the dark, always had since a robber broke in during the middle of the knife and killed his mom and dad. He’d spent years feeling guilty about being left alive. The cops and councils swore he’d been a lucky little boy, but he hadn’t seen it that way.
All he saw was he’d been left to fend for himself in a world without relatives. Both of his parents had been only children and no living parents. In-fact, from what little he’d been able to dig up on his parents since he aged out of foster care there was little known about his parents.
“Stop it! Stop whatever . . .” The searing, eye shattering, pain increased brining a huge ball of yellow light. Images flashing through his mind like an old-style movie reel disrupted the glow.
His father sitting on a royal blue chair wearing a gold, five pointed crown, with his mother sitting beside him in a lavender straight-line strapless dress. His parents looking through a circle window as red firework style flames flared to life thousands of feet from them. Silver and gray streaks sailing away from them as the bright flares grew smaller and smaller. Tears stained his mother’s cheeks as she kissed his father, before they both climbed into some kind of cylinder shape container. The lids closed them in darkness and then his mind went blank for a moment, only to reveal his parents climbing from the oval shape contraption and looking over what resembled the Grand Canyon.
His childhood home had been miles from the canyon; they’d taken multiple trips to the tourist attraction. His parents always wore this gooey-eyed expression when they looked over the edges. The reeling images faded to one steady picture of his parents holding a small child, him. Both smiled at him, but his dad traced the three-triangle birthmark on his left shoulder.
The pain ceased as his mind’s eye zoomed in on the small birthmark. The strange shape had always intrigued Jacob, but he’d viewed it as what he was told it was, a birthmark. Something inside him thought different now.
“You see you are not an ordinary orphan. You are not even a typical Tri-Tri-Tri orphan. You are the heir to the Tri-Tri-Tri people. And it is time your returned to your homeland and take your rightful spot.”
Whoever was speaking to him was out of their fucking mind. There was no . . .
He’d seen his parents fleeing a fire, but they’d been inside some funky oval flying machine. There’d been no ground behind them, only a trail of . . .
It couldn’t be true; there were no other . . .
“What am I?”
* * *