#2 In The Dark

Chap. 9_fuzzy hearing and semi-conscious epiphanies?

A small droplet of candlewax stung against her, first sending a pang of satisfaction up her arm; but then turning to a coarse heat as it's fused to her damp skin.
Which was weird. Because Sarah Stark wasn't expecting to feel anything again.

The touch of the wax was simply a shocking sensation. As she existed there – not knowing where she was – the sensation of feeling was the first thing that had happened to her. The first external stimulus to enter her bubble. The notification for her that she wasn't dead.

But as the bead's heat slowly faded away, leaving itself solidified onto her hand, even that sense of feeling went away without the perspective of where, or what, or how.

But then it happened again. And the sense grew stronger. The joyous moment of touch as it sizzled up her arm, and circuiting back to from that hot, melting again.

It kept on happening. Drop. Drop. Drop.

And Sarah counted. She counted because it was the only thing she could do. Nothing else worked. She couldn't move. Or see. Or smell or even hear any dripping. But the liquid kept flopping down onto her hand. And solidifying.

Candlewax, her intuition guessed.

But it was on the fourteenth drip, that she finally heard it. That faint splodge as it hit her. And suddenly, she could smell too. The small whiff of sugar, and some spice. She couldn't tell. But it was definitely candles.

And as her olfactory nerves kicked into place, she realised just how strong the smell was. It stung her nostrils and she had to try and see if she could prise her mouth open. Her mind obeyed and suddenly the pungent air wafted in, gushing down her wide throat.

She could taste it. She could taste the smell too.

Candles, she thought. How great. I've got no idea where I am. But at least they know how to provide some relaxation for me.

She giggled inwardly at her own sarcasm.

This is what it has come to then? Blindness and tranquility. I suppose it's better than nothing.

She tossed around the idea that it may actually be heaven. She'd woken up and God had brought out all the Yankee for her.

She dismissed it almost as quickly as she'd found the idea originally. No, she thought, it's all far too real. And although the feeling of peeling candlewax off skin is surprisingly satisfying, I doubt the big man upstairs would choose that as a way of initiation.

She laughed coyly again, this time loud enough for her to hear through the dense buzzing that shrouded her earshot.

She replayed a moment that would happen so often in her household as a young child.

'"I should be on the telly," Sarah would say, laughing at her own joke.

"No!" her Mum would reply, equally in hysterics, "you'd fall off!"'

She smiled sadly, wondering how her life had got from there to here. But as her imagination played that moment again and again with vivid detail, she felt something.

Her finger twitched. I can move?

And then so did her eyelid, revealing a scene in front of her. I can see?

In front of her was darkness. Her eyes were taking a while to readjust to the scenario ahead, but she could faintly make out some lights, one very close to her, and others scattered irregularly across the room.

The candles, she realised to herself. And she breathed lightly at the candle just ahead, and the light danced away, morphing into shapes and shades.