I know your pain.
Lately, just on the edge of sleep, Jacqueline Martinez heard a strange voice whisper in her otherwise quiet bedroom. Her eyes opened upon her room done in lots of pastel colors that could not be seen very well in the darkness of night. She closed her eyes again taking in a deep chilled breath. With an involuntary shiver, she tried to think about the decorations that brought her comfort as well as the colors.
Jacqueline relished the dominant color being pink (a fav) with light green and blue accents. The silk roses on her desk were her favorite along with the tulip pattern sewn on her lovely quilt that Grandma made for her. The walls, in particular, were painted a slight satin pink with cream stripes, which at first she thought was too girly but when finished just perfect. The lace curtains matched the quilt that made her brother Bryan gag every time he looked at them.
Pictures of her with friends decorated the walls. Many were taken at her favorite place in the whole world. The summer cottage on Winona Lake in Northern Indiana was modest, but the best! If not playing in the water, they rode their bikes a short trip down the road to the Dairy Queen. Her father allegedly moved there permanently after the divorce ten years ago. Mom never joined them in the summers after that. Jacqueline and Bryan saw their dad without fail. Some excellent antique stores were boasted to be around that area, and Dad happened to owned one of the most successful ones.
Once sleep nearly caught her again, the strange voice spoke softly to some part of her that she cared never to acknowledge. Jacqueline preferred to bury and forget it. The voice still unfamiliar to her remained vigilant, and refused to yield. She twisted and turned away from it tangled up in her peach sheets upon her veiled canopy bed. A moan left her throat in rejection because this time she did not wake. She clutched one of several pillows tightly over her head. She hoped to block the insistent voice.
Let me help you.
The voice seemed to sense the conflict it roused in her. It frightened her a little that this strange voice touched her beyond her façade no one else viewed. The voice awakened her alter-ego Jax from her sweet slumber. Jax existed separately from Jacqueline the straight “A” student all through public school and Valedictorian of her senor class at Lincoln High. The student council president. The multiple essay contest winner. The member of the National Honor Society. The off-campus University of Maryland student. The one always ready to volunteer for any charity or any cause to help the needy or the sick and shut-in. The perpetual good girl, Jacqueline was, who never did anything wrong, was never out of control, or ever took any risks. In other words, boring as hell!
Jacqueline was without an identity of her choosing and grew to hate it. Jax was more than Jacqueline the brown-noser her mom shaped her to be. Jax craved to burst free of the smothering wealth of expectation she was shackled with.
Around the time the strange voice began its whispers, Jax asserted herself. Each night without fail, the strange voice grew bolder. It spoke directly to Jax, stirring her to the surface from the deep gulfs of her mind. Drifting off to sleep must have triggered the opportune time for the strange voice to make contact.
Just reach out to me, the lone voice invited warmly.
She answered, feeling unsure, I-I can’t…I’m afraid.
Take my hand. A glowing hand materialized from the darkness in which she stood alone. Trust me now, Jax. You know you can.
Do I? She wondered not for the first time because somehow the voice knew too much. How could it know her secret name she called only to herself?
Yeah, because you have called to me.
Called to you? Just who the hell are you?
Jax peered at the dark beyond her eyelids. Nothing greeted her there but the darkness. The glowing hand that reached to her a moment ago faded into it. However, the longer she studied the darkness, the more she saw that it wasn’t complete. Jax frowned. With more squinting, she viewed something ahead of her. What was it? A flicker of blue?
Jax wanted to stop moving toward that strange blue light the moment she started. Her stomach churned with unease that rose to her throat with the foulest of tastes. Sweat sprang under her arms and across the back of her neck in the wrongness experienced. A nagging feeling persisted that this was a significant shift in the dream.
Jax couldn‘t hinder her approach toward the blue flame once begun, although she couldn‘t say that she actually felt her legs move. Instead, it was more like she drifted or flew with the momentum of her curiosity. Surely then, because she knew in the real world she wasn’t a freakin’ bird and couldn‘t fly like Supergirl, that meant she dreamed…whew!
“Just a dream,” Jax murmured in relief.
There was nothing to fear. No matter how much the dream altered…nothing at all to be afraid of. None of it would matter once her alarm clock went off promptly at 6:00 am. Jax would prepare for her boring early morning lecture on the significance of microeconomics. Zzzzz…dullsville! Anyway, the point was the dream would be all but forgotten in the hustle of her day. Tomorrow meant three classes, homework, volunteer work and work study until it was time to go to bed again.
When Jax guessed that she flew close enough to touch the blue fire that reminded her of a gas stove flame, she came within it without getting burned. Somehow she reached its edge before tipping over while pin wheeling her arms. The action didn’t aid her for there was a force…eager and strong sucking her down in a relentless vacuum.
“Nooooo!” Jax cried in the frigid nothingness that rose up to say that it was a dream. Nonetheless, her body seemed to think otherwise and reacted accordingly.
Clawing at the air in her freefall, Jax found it impossible to remain where she was with the persistent vacuum. She fell toward nothing and lost all feeling of her stomach that seemed to retreat deeper within her body if that was possible. Her limbs thrashed about her of their own accord. They searched for some solid surface to clutch on to yet finding none.
A frightened scream escaped her. Tears poured from her eyes causing her vision to waver. The light changed beyond the blue flame to bright yellow specks that became quivering streaks of light while she plummeted downward steadily toward an inevitable death!
© Copyright 2017 Amy F. Turner. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Erotica
Book / Erotica
Short Story / Erotica