Maggie had dozed off with the images of a blonde haired, twelve-year-old farmer’s son, and his smiling Border Collie named Squirt. Her dreams, sadly, rapidly, transformed into something unspeakably horrific. Things previously forgotten about the accident began to slowly rise to the surface of her tormenting dream state. She saw the body of ‘Flash’, suspended by his seat belt, covered in his own blood, dangling upside down with an arm and a leg torn off.

                           

As if the controller of her mind had punched fast forward, Maggie found herself staring out to the rear of the car. Not only did she find it gone, but after a second, further, harder look, she spotted it roughly twenty metres away, and half way up a tree. In this vision of carnage, she could see both of the senior police officers still in the rear seat. Their seat belts had remained firm, they were the image of blood and gore personified.

 

The mind fast forwarding once more, she found herself lying uncomfortably on her back on what felt like gravel. This time she was looking directly up. Instead of the night sky, however, she found herself looking up into the bespectacled eyes of an old lady. An old with permed, blue rinsed hair. Like a muted television, she could see old woman speaking to her, but the sound of her voice was missing. Increasing her focus, the lady’s voice slowly filled her ears.

 

“……………..as I said my love, it is not your time yet. You still have life, do not waste this, those with you have escaped such a luxury.”

 

Maggie noted that the eyes she looked into had the same kindly softness she had seen in her grandmother’s. But the closer she looked, she noticed at the back of the old woman’s pupils, there were fires burning. The flames were a yellow-red, and then Maggie woke to the gentle shaking of her arm. Slowly opening her eyes, the plump face of a plumper night nurse stared back at her.

 

“You were screaming Maggie.” she said with concern written across her face. “ Do you want something to help you sleep again?”

 

“Yes please.” was all Maggie could manage. She noted she had been crying, the tears still warm and wet on her cheeks. Five minutes later she felt a coldness slide up her arm from the point of the cannula in the back of her hand. The fist of the Sandman closed over her, in an all-consuming darkness, and Maggie fell into a lengthy, drug induced slumber.

 

☠

 

Eight hours later, Mrs. Trout seated stoically at her left elbow, Anton King began to talk.

 

“I read in your nursing notes that you were screaming again last night Maggie. Would you like to talk about your dream? If you can recall it, that is.”

 

“There isn’t much to tell, other than it was the same dream about the accident. But, this one was slightly different.”

 

“Okay, how so? Do you mind telling me?” Anton prompted.

 

“Well, this time I can see the car had been torn in half. Was the car torn in half?”

 

“Yes it was Maggie. Do you remember where you were looking from when you realised this?”

 

“I was looking out between the front seats, and then I saw the whole rear of the car was completely missing. When I looked a bit harder, I could see it stuck half way up a tree. I don’t know what sort of tree it was. Was the back-end of the car actually stuck in a tree?”

 

“Ahhhh, yes it was.” Said Anton hesitantly. “Did you see anything else?”

 

“Yes, I could see the two Inspectors still strapped in and mangled.” A tear wound its way down her left cheek, and into her ear. She lifted her left hand, and wiped the tear from her ear.

 

“Maggie, I think you are regaining some of your memories, as painful as they may be. Is there anything else about the dream you would like to tell me about.

 

“No.” she lied. Even in her mangled state, there were somethings that even she knew couldn’t be true, and certainly didn’t want to disclose. The last thing she needed at this stage, was  ‘insane’ added to her list of afflictions.

 

“Alright. We will leave that there then.” Anton stated. “Now, how did we go with the reading, and refocusing your awareness?”

 

“Well actually. I enjoyed the experience.”

 

“Great, in that case I’ll leave you two ladies to it, and will see you again in a day or two.” and with a smile, Anton gathered his things and left.

 

Mrs. Trout extracted ‘Misanthrope’ from her large tote bag. Placing her spectacles on, she opened the book.

 

“Here we are now Maggie, Chapter Two. It is entitled, ‘Gored and left for dead. That sounds positively ghastly, would you prefer I read something else?”

 

“No, I enjoyed the yesterdays.”

 

“Riiiiiiiightio…………..”said Mrs. Trout, and began to read.

 

TBC………………………….or not? That is the question  for you dear reader. Do I continue with this first draft of this book, delivering it as I have been onto my blog? Or, do I wait until it is finished, edited, and published before the rest of the story is available to the public. The choice is entirely yours, and the way to let me know is by leaving me a reply below.

 

So, as per routine, click the picture above, a seriously groovy clip happens next.

 

 

N.

 

PS – the old lady in the tale is ‘Death’.

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