Out of Context Snippets

Short Story (No Title Yet)

A short story I wrote that surprisingly my dad decided would make a great short film.
Subject to edits here and there, but it's done for the most part-

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Body heavy, limbs numb, you awaken to find yourself in some sort of… void, staring blankly into endless nothingness on all sides. 

There’s no light, no sound. Nothing but the empty blackness surrounding you. However, in an odd way it is a comforting blackness, as if you were meant to be there. Why? You weren't sure. 

    You struggle to stand. You can barely feel your limbs and a chill runs down your spine as the boundless fear begins to boil at your center.

    Where are you? Who are you? How did you get here? Why are you here? Where are all the lights, the sounds? Are you alone? You weren’t sure.

    Suddenly, a bright light hits your eyes and you cower, shielding them from the harsh, blinding rays. Though the light felt warm and familiar, almost as if it were here to guide you. A beacon to a long road ahead.

    Next thing you know, you’re standing in a white room. It smells… sterile. The looks are simple, ordinary, as if no one could place the details that made it unique. Like a far off memory.

    Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you turn to see what it was.

    Doctors are surrounding a hospital bed, blocking your field of vision from viewing what was beyond. There’s an echo of a baby’s cry and a woman’s soft weeping, almost faint and distant.

    You’re confused. What are you doing here? What was so important about this that you needed to see it? Did it hold the answers you seek? You weren't sure. You approach the huddle out of curiosity, reaching out to touch one doctor on the shoulder, and leaning over to see what was going on.

    Suddenly, the image fades away at your touch, and you are left in the blank white room with nothing but the last echo of a baby’s wail to accompany you until it softly fades.

    You’re startled, wildly turning to look from every possible direction, hoping to see something. Anything.

    A child laughs. 

You turn around to see a set of parents, swinging a small child between them. A happy family, from the looks of it, all dressed up for what seems to be a nice walk. They radiate with an almost foreign sense of joy, just as warm and welcoming as the light.

    Though you can't see their faces, you feel some familiarity with them, and for a moment it hurts to try and remember. You decide to follow them and seek your answers.

    In the moment you step one foot out to pursue them, however, their images disappear. The child’s laugh echoes around the blank space.

    What is going on? Why are you watching other people’s lives in such short glimpses? Is this punishment for something you did wrong? What were you? Who were you? You weren't sure.

    You turn to the side and begin walking, catching a glimpse of the happy family experiencing the world's greatest milestones. The child learns to ride a bike for the first time, Christmas around a well decorated tree, family dinner, the first day of school. Small peeks at their faces as you learn more and more about them from these shards of a life vaguely familiar.

    Suddenly, you stop.

    The family is gathered by their front door.

The wife is teary eyed, clutching the child by the shoulders. You can tell how hard she's trying to keep her composure, but the subtle shaking and the hard grip of her jaw gave it all away.