Plagued By An Imagine

Part 5

The creaking was ancient sounding, belonging to old and weathered materials. The gentle rocking that matched the creaking was enough to make him want to throw up, dizzy with nausea. Something bright kept fluttering over his closed eyes to the point of annoyance and with a deep, brightly electric breath, he willed his body to push towards the surface of consciousness.

The groaning turned to an unpleasant screeching and the light was far too bright in its swinging. He really thought he was going to be sick and nearly considered letting himself sink back into the power of whatever sleep-like entity had been keeping a hold on his mind.

His eyes finally flicked open and dust dancing on a sunbeam greeted him. The window it came from was a small slit in the side of white fiberglass, too far out of reach for him to dare to look through. It took a while longer for the rest of his surroundings to come into place. It wasn't familiar but at least he understood the catalog before him.

The bed he rested in took up the space of the room in its entirety, save a small space at the foot of the bed where a closed door greeted him. The rocking tilted the room to and fro as if he was not meant to be part of the movement.

He pushed himself up, arms trembling under the weight. A dull thudding prickling shot through his torso and he moaned, the sound strangled from the disuse of his voice. His hand wrapped around his center in an attempt to hold himself together as things repositioned themselves, feeling like they were tearing apart. Beneath the fabric of a grey t-shirt he could make out the outline of bandages helping keep him together.

His body felt different to him. Thinner, smaller, and weak as if he hadn't eaten in a while.

The sound around him was grating now and with clenched teeth, he dragged himself to the foot of the bed. His knees gave out as he put pressure on them and his hands shot out to the face of the door to catch himself. The swaying of his surroundings was only amplified with the spinning of his head and his full weight pressed into the door in hopes that everything around him would stay still, even for just long enough that he could obtain his bearings.

The blessing didn't occur and finally the determination to figure out exactly where he was was strong enough to make him straighten up. He opened the door and found a small compact living space equivalent to an RV. Lining a skinny walkway was a couch on one side, made of durable and horribly patterned material that looked scratchy at best. Across from it was a dinette, the C shaped booth made from the same irritable fabric. Beside the dinette was a sink, counter space and the smallest of ovens and microwaves. On the other side of the couch was a set of stairs that disappeared, leading to the only other place there was to go in this pocket sized house that was still rocking back and forth incessantly.

With hands outstretched and using the table for balance, ignoring how weak it was under his grip, he stepped down the walkway until the doorway with the stairs. When he looked to where the case led, he was pleasantly welcomed by a fraction of the brilliant blue sky, the door at the top of the stairs having been left open.

His hands took either side of the enclosed staircase and helped propel him upwards, towards the waiting world. It was nearly too bright to see when he finally came to the open door and a hand went up to shield his eyes so he could take in more of his surroundings. The source of the rocking was finally identified at an expanse of blue ocean as far as the horizon dared to go. The blue was only slightly deeper than the cloudless sky and the sun was warm against his skin, though the breeze that came off the water was chilly and light with a salty mist.

A boat. He was on a boat. He turned slowly around and found that this was the only boat in sight, the skyline bare on all sides of him. The sun was high above indicating midday and giving him no indication of which direction he was facing.