The Voice He Hears (Part 11)

He was in the other world; the dreamscape. Manifesting before him, at close proximity, were short scenes of his life. Within the darkness, and as though the scenes were lighted by spotlight, the past began to appear.

He was standing beside a little boy that was at the feet of his arguing parents. Although there was nothing audible, the fighting was evident. He just watched as the boy played with a toy truck with little tears in his eyes. The scene faded, and a scene from Mike’s junior high appeared. He was being held by two boys while a third was punching him repeatedly in the stomach. The next scene was very grim. It was Mike, his father and a man taking photos. They were both naked, and his father was standing while facing a kneeling Mike. The next scene was Mike loading a syringe with liquid from a spoon. His ex-girlfriend was nearby with another man, studying him with passionate eyes. The next vision was Mike, passed out on his basement floor, with an empty bottle just inside the edge of the spotlight’s beam. Mike was observing himself–his urine-soaked boxers. The sweat in his hair. The heartbeat bumping in his chest as it struggled to maintain him.

The light faded. He now stood in the dark, desperately searching for a hint of light. Nothingness surrounded him. The temperature–not noticeable during the flashes from his life–began to drop. The cold became frigid. The frigidness became a piercing, cutting burn. He was encompassed by the silence, terrible memories and the inescapable bitterness. He began to shiver. The darkness and chill seemed to last for an eternity.

The sound of a far-off wind began to roar. He could see a glow appearing on an endless horizon.

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