Waking up with needles and wires poking out of you is not something anyone really dreams about. Waking up with needles and wires poking out of you and learning that the life you knew was only a dream - pretty insane, yeah?
Hello guys, it's Isandra here and here's the latest story off my head! I realize that I do need to complete other stories, but I have no motivation? Yeah, I'm sorry, please don't mind me. Anyway, I'm hoping I'll complete Black Light and Chaotic over the next few months, so bear with me. Fantasy, sci-fi and young adult - that's kinda what I'll describe Black Light as.
So join Orra Blue Jackman and Travis O'Conner on their crazy/scary ride!
DISCLAIMER - This story will contain swearing, sarcasm and shock. Proceed at your own risk.
Also, if you copy my work I will hunt you down and make your life miserable. So don't.
Enjoy!
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"What the fucking hell?"
I was in a bed that looked more like the examination tables in hospitals, I had wires poking out of me, and there was a bald guy sitting at the far end of the room, typing something on a computer that seemed like it was right from the 1980s - only a hundred times more futuristic.
And the bald guy had just completely ignored me.
"Where the heck am I?" I tried to get up and cursed. Word of advice - do not move when you have needles sticking into you.
"Ah, Orra. I see you have woken up."
I rolled my eyes at his statement.
"Stating the obvious, mister? Where am I?"
"Wait." He said, walking out.
What?
He just left me there, all alone, in a room that was freaking me out to be honest, without telling me what was going on? I sighed, closing my eyes. What was going on?
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew was a guy wearing a suit trying to wake me up. I stared at him. He was quite old - I was guessing in his late sixties or maybe seventies - and everything about him screamed authority. But it wasn't the do-what-I-say-or-I'll-kill-you kinda authority, more like let-me-help-you-don't-be-scared kinda authority. Does that make sense?
I tried to move, but the needles were still there.
The old man slowly started pulling them out (and I won't deny that fucking hurt). I sighed with relief when they were all out and finally got up, stretching as I sat on the bed.
"Hello Orra." Well that's one deep voice, I thought, as the old man finally opened his mouth.
"Hi?" What was I supposed to say?
"I'm Michael, and this right here is Peter." He said, pointing at the bald guy. "Peter's your dream writer, and he did a good job, I believe."
"And may I have the pleasure to know who the hell is a dream writer?"
"He's the person who wrote out the story of your life as you knew it till now."
And that's when it hit me.
"I'm dead, aren't I?"
YOU ARE READING
Black Light
Fantasy"What the fucking hell?" I was in a bed that looked more like the examination tables in hospitals, I had wires poking out of me, and there was a bald guy sitting at the far end of the room, typing something on a computer that seemed like it was righ...
