| *Please note that the exerpt from the poem helps you to understand what I wrote in this short story. This probably is not the best work of fiction you've ever read. And if it is I think you need to visit a library. |
| This story begins like a very average sleepover: the music is blaring, people are dancing and the party giver is cleaning up the mess made. Sooner or later, the party calms down and the music does too. Then come the tricks of the mind. For example, having someone hold your arms up in the air for a while then lower them, it feels like your falling through the floor. But this trick is different..... this trick is real. The trick starts with you placing your head in someone's lap and your feet in someone else's. Your head and feet are massaged in a certain direction on the pressure points of the area. The person at your head slowly and calmly tells you what you are seeing. You've had this experience before but somehow as you see these images in your head, you can feel your self slowly slip away. Suddenly you are in a long hallway. there are pictures on the walls only, they are moving. These pictures are weaving images of your memories. Memories of long forgotten Christmass's and birthdays: the fun and wild times, the smiles, the tears, the fears and all of your innermost thoughts are displayed here in these pictures in this hall. Abruptly, you realize that you cannot hear the person's voice telling you what you are seeing. Frantically you look behind you. The hallway seems to go on forever with your memories on the wall. You turn back around slowly looking at the things happening around your body. In the picture that is directly in front of you you can see yourself at a formal dance, And you and your date decide to get something to eat. As you are crossing the street, your date stops to talk with someone. A semi-truck plows into you leaving you under its wheel. You begin to walk further down the hall. You see yourself lying in the hospital, your room barely large enough to hold the machines that are keeping you alive. The next picture is of your friends. They are screaming at the doctors and nurses, and you can't understand what they are saying but they seem upset. You walk on slowly peering at pictures of your friends and family in your hospital room. All of them very much the same. The same look upon their faces, disbelief. Soon you come to to two doors. Each of the doors are exactly the same, each intricately carved with scenes of the battle between God and Satan. Each door carved with scenes of Jesus with the keys of heaven and hell. You know deep down inside that you will have to choose the place where your soul belongs for eternity. You open your heart and soul to the good graces of heaven. You close your eyes and pray you open the right door. With eyes still closed you slowly reach out and put your hand on a door handle. The door creaks deafaningly as you open it. You do not step in, you are pulled in. You find yourself on a hard clay rock. Up above you the door is open. It seems to be just there in all that that blackness, one bright shaft of light. Suddenly, you feel as if you are not alone. In front of you, across a deep, dark ravine, there is a person in a dark cloak. Behind you, there is a person in a white cloak. The cloaked figures are positioned so that you cannot see their faces. You look down and are startled to realize you are atanding on a tall tower of the clay rock. You are high above the darkness below. The people in front and behind you are at the same level of ground. The next choice will be the most important. Do you trust the person in white, or the person in black? Your first instinct is to trust the person in white, but what if it is a trick? What if the one in white is trying to pull you back form the dark abyss? You have made up your mind; it is final. You take one last look at both figures. You run towards the one in white, the figure puts out its arms and...... |
| Spectres of the Mind |
| "He fought his doubts and gather`d strength, He would not make his judgment blind, He faced the spectres of the mind. And laid them; thus he came at length To find a stronger faith his own, And power was with him in the night" In Memoriam XCVI Alfred Lord Tennyson |