Wednesday 30 May 2012

Fever XVIII (Henry)


XVIII - Henry

Henry marched over to the television set and switched it off again, silencing the incessant sound of white noise so that he could hear his own heart pounding.  He stared at the screen a moment longer, daring it to react, then he turned back to the bed and the pile of papers on the floor.  A sense of some sort of responsibility made him bend down and begin picking them up, tidying them together again as if he cared what they had to say.  He had barely sorted three sheets before the sound of static filled the room once more.

He looked up and saw his own shadow cut out of static on the wall.  Fearfully he looked over his shoulder and stared at the television.  Just static and noise save for the volume bar, visible at the bottom.  Slowly it was sliding up to full.

TV’s develop faults like this all the time.  It’s a hospital; they can’t afford the newer models.  It’s probably been waking patients from their sleep for years.

Rationalisations weren’t helping, not because they couldn’t be true, but because they couldn’t explain everything else: the empty hospital, the darkened city, the flames and the monsters.  Terror began to well up deep within him and he wasn’t sure he could keep it at bay any longer.

Where are the others?  Why am I all alone here?

The TV cut off abruptly.  Henry began to breathe out a sigh of relief and then the lights flickered off, the TV screen glowed fiercely once more and the roar of static filled the room.  Henry felt himself shrinking into the floor, shuffling backwards across his scattered papers to the corner of the room.  All around him the static seemed to be carving out the shadows of objects from the wall.  They deepened, seemed to become solid and then they began to move, creeping towards him.

“What are you things?” he shouted, his voice wavering, so uncertain, filled with dread.  “Why wont you leave me alone?”  He screwed his eyes shut, cupped his hands over his ears and tried to force the images away.  None of this can be real.  I can’t deal with t if it’s real.  It has to go away!

He opened his eyes.


No comments:

Post a Comment