On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Forty-Seven - "Somewhere In-between"

When people are unconscious and their brains are still active, no one knows what’s going on. Some people say they can hear, and we’d all like to believe they can hear our deep-seated desire for them to return hale and hearty; but there is also a chance that though their brains are indeed active, they’re doing something else entirely – dreaming or maybe simply, dying.

Who really knows?

So before you read this, don’t focus on the rationality of the happenings, because they may be a complete concoction of an imagination; it could be a dream; or it could be that unconscious people, though temporarily inactive – we hope – may be more alive than we know.

Maybe it’s real, and maybe it’s not. Maybe it happened; maybe it didn’t. Maybe it’s ridiculous or foolish even – you choose the synonym – and maybe it’s fantasy. The point is not the label, or your thoughts on any of it, or your beliefs or doubts – which are perfectly valid, I assure you.

The following chapters – convoluted – were not created with the intention for you to go believing such ludicrous things, nor is it for you to pick apart the ridiculousness, but rather, it is for you to open your mind to the possibilities of the impossible; open your mind to preposterousness; block out your cynicism, and just read . . .

After all, that is the point of this ridiculously long story, isn’t it?

 

Chloe

 

I sat quietly on the bench as the sun rose. I was waiting.

Waiting for what?

There was a shooting pain in my gut, but I didn't think to wonder why. The sun shone against my face and I welcomed the heat.

I didn't think to wonder why I was in a dress at such an odd hour of the day. I knew it was odd, but I barely knew the hour, so it didn't matter.

What day was it?

Where was I?

All I knew was, I was in a long dress, sitting on a bench by a river, watching the sun go higher and higher in the sky, shining over the skyline.

Nothing mattered.

“Beautiful isn't it?”

I turned at the sound of the voice. It came from an older woman, dressed more reasonably in a blazer and jeans. She looked familiar, but I had no idea who she was. Her dark eyes met mine and I shivered; it was like she was looking right into my soul. She was quite beautiful; it was a little alarming.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

She smiled one of those soft patronizing smiles. “Do you?”

I frowned, “I don't know. Do you know me?”

“Again, do you?”

I opened my mouth to respond in the affirmative, but suddenly realized I had no idea who I was. What was my name? Where did I come from? What was I doing here?

“No. I don't . . . I don't remember.” I murmured, looking around for some sort of clue.

Where the hell was I?

I glanced around the street, only then realizing that we were the only two people around. It was all very eerie.

I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my gut. I groaned, as I held my hand over the source of the pain.