I sipped the steaming cup of coffee, slowly, as I stared blankly into space. The standing fan's constant humming was the only sound in the room. France-lyse had, earlier, gone out to meet some people, leaving her bloodsucker in the house to babysit me. I could see him sitting at the other side of the door, a book in his hand, legs crossed in the shape of a four. The door was slightly open as there were no windows in the room. The walls had on them, writings and symbols. They were written in a language that seemed Arabic. The room was fairly lit as the only source of light was from the door slightly open.
I sipped some more coffee, scalding my tongue. My head was blank, like it had a piece of it wiped clean. There were no fragments of memory. The last thing I remembered was..... Peace! Yes! The last thing I remembered was peace! Intense peace, so soothing it felt blissful....like Heaven. But, after that came nothing.
I felt a pang in my belly. It resonated through by body, vibrating the ceramic cup of coffee I had in my hand.
Like a flash of light, I saw a child scoop out soil from the ground. She took it home in a polythene bag, placing it amongst others. An older woman, probably her mother, took the bag hours later, pouring it's contents into a platform. She added water and moulded it. Eventually, her work began to take the shape of a cup. The shape of the ceramic cup I had in my hands! The process took days, and I saw in a flash how the clay turned from mere soil to cup!
My gaze returned to the door, my eyes adjusting to the light again. I looked at the cup, the coffee still inside, and put it on the stool beside the bed. My whole body resonated again, and like a flash of lightning, I saw all the people that had walked on that floor. I could see, clearly, the faces of all who had stepped there. I could even feel, faintly, their emotions.
I withdrew my hands, being careful not to touch anything again. I sighed as I brought my hands to myself, inhaling deeply.
An idea.
I looked at the walls with the ancient engravings on it's surface. I could hear voices crying out faintly from beneath the paintings on the wall.
I stretched my hand and touched the wall.
Nothing.
I paused, a little bit shocked as to how I had been able to see all I had seen before, and yet unable to feel anything now. I could sense anger, familiar anger, crying out for vengeance from the walls. Somehow, I recognized it's voice; it's tune. I spread my hands wider on the wall, burrowing in my fingers. I shut out all the noise, focusing my entire energy on hearing. Listening.
"Tobi..."
I felt such overwhelming rush of nostalgia. I saw my sister's face flash before my eyes. Her eyes were filled with pain. Pain, so strong, it oozed out of her soul. And like a dash of wind, her face disappeared. Her presence was gone. I was left in darkness. It was as though my connection to her, to the paintings on the wall, had been cut off. I sat upright on the bed in utter shock, unable to move nor speak.
I placed my hands again, closing my eyes and shutting out all the noise. Nothing. I clenched my fingers, tightening their grip on the wall. I squinted my eyes within me, struggling to pick up at least a signal. Nothing.
As I pulled away my hand in resignation, a throb. I felt a throb of heat emanate from beneath the surface of the walls. I placed my hand back, listening intently.
"Help me..."
And once again, with such abruptness, everywhere went blank. I could feel nothing. My connection to whatever (or whoever) was in that wall was gone. There was silence in the dark ness. Whatever I had felt was gone. Cut off. Like a line that was severed- more permanently this time.
What was happening?