The Fallen City

|Chapter XII: Spirit of Man

There had been nothing. So much nothing...

And in it no concept of time, place, being or even existence. There was no sensation, there was no reason.

It was just void.

But slowly, the very basics of senses came back. The ones that were just there.

He could feel the blood flowing through his veins again, pumping weak but there none the less. There was no reason to it...

He could hear the world around him, thick and echoey albeit. There was no reason to it...

On his breaths he could smell the clean air, the scent of bleach and worry. There was no reason to it...

"What are you..."

"...It must be..."

"Explain..."

With no rhyme or reason he couldn't understand the voices. The words they were saying seamingly without meaning or cause. They just echoed, like they had been there for a long time, drawn out over so long.

Gale wished for nothing more than the world to begin making sense again. He could feel things in him, feeding his veins. Something was taped to his chest, beeping away.

Sense meant nothing there, wherever he was. He couldn't make any, nore could he understand anything. His mind was dazed, his body didn't hurt, yet he couldn't feel anything either.

It took him a few moments to realise his eyes weren't even open. the darkness was so bright. What had happened? He couldn't bring the memory back. It was just gone.

So he focused on the voices. They knew what had happened. Maybe they knew what was going on.

"...There is some truth..."

There was a pause. Still there were only snippets. There was little sense. A question? A statement?

"...you mean?"

The world began to fade to the ever present haze again. Like something was pulling him from it. He fought it.

He battled it with all his will.

He didn't want it.

He was scared, like a wounded beast. He wouldn't let it take him.

"Are you suggesting this City..."

He won.

Yet it was a long time before he woke.

Who on Earth thought making that damn heart monitor beep so loudly was a good idea?

Also who thought painting a hospital white was a good idea?

"Welcome back." Who thought...

"Alban?" He groaned. Gale scrunched his eyes shut, the light was unbearable.

"Hello Dad." He sounded more distant. The light seemed to lower slightly, its colours were muted out. Gale felt his eyelids open, he knew he had commanded them to, there was the sensation of spectating slightly. He didn't feel fully in touch, like his connection was weak. Most of the world around him was fuzzy.

His son was all that was in focus. Gale couldn't recall doing it, but he knew he smiled though. The worry on his son's face meant nothing. His presence so close meant nothing.

The black rings around his sleepless eyes meant it all. The faintest specs of stubble did, as did the faint watermarks down his face. Discreet, yes. Almost indiscernible. Yet their cause was obvious to him.