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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Feb 26, 2024 5:09:19 GMT -5
Chapter Seventeen – Instant History
Fiona could hear the whirring of machinery, a dull pulsing rhythm that gently filled the silence in her mind. It was a gentle sound, and for a while, she almost felt peaceful.
Then, there came a sudden, frantic beeping, echoing around the room, the sound reverberating inside her head. Her eyes burst open, panic and fright pulling her from slumber.
Fiona knew that she must be awake, and yet she felt as though she were still fast asleep. Her mind was floating, detached from any sentient pillar. She felt dizzy, the world out of focus from her thoughts, but at the same time everything suddenly felt clearer. Her field of perception was diluted and distilled, but what was there was cast in sharper contrast than anything else thst she had felt recently.
Her body moved, and her mind moved with it. Fiona felt her eyes glancing over the screen of the console, absorbing and decoding the information, but the decision had not been her own. As Fiona looked around the room, and began to gather herself up from the bunk, she realised that she could not control where her gaze fell. Then without thinking, at least not consciously, she knew what was going on.
Fiona set off, her feet echoing on the metal grilles of the floor, and the dizziness grew increasingly overwhelming with each step. The sensation built up inside, a rush of pressure that made her think she could pass out any moment. Truth be told, she was acting on autopilot, her body# moving without any sort of control.
The more that she thought about her circumstances, the more she could feel panic starting to set in. She was back on the submarine, she understood that much, but how? How did she get back here? Had it all been a dream, everything taking place inside her head?
As Fiona moved, a feeling began to grow inside of that something was wrong. Her body felt different, more muscle and strength in herself than she had felt for a long while. A stray lock of red curls fell down the side of her face, and when she moved to brush it aside she felt how clean and full her hair had become. It felt like she was inhabiting a different body entirely, or that of a strangers.
The beeping noise continued, and Fiona reached into her pocket to take out a notepad. She looked down, reading back the numbers she had jotted down over the last few days. The timings were getting closer together, she remembered. That had always been the way. No matter how far or fast they had ran, the beast was always coming for them.
There were footsteps now, the sounds coming from up above her. Fiona neared a narrow set of steps that led up onto the next floor, and saw that there was already someone heading down, coming towards her. She knew, before she saw his face, who it was. Even though it made no sense to her, she knew it would be him. She remembered.
'Fernald!' she said, the word slipping out automatically. There was a note of panic in her tone, one she had not intended.
He nodded. 'I know, I can hear just the same as you.' He reached out with his hand, and placed it comfortingly on her shoulder. She knew that it was there, but she could not feel it, not like she was supposed to. It was like being wrapped up in cotton wool, her sensations dulled and muted.
'So, the same as last time?' she asked. The same as last time? That made no sense. Fiona did not understand what she meant. How could she be speaking if she did not understand what she was saying?
'What else can we do?' Fernald shrugged. 'It's worked up until now anyway.'
'We can't keep doing this forever.' Fiona sighed, and she pulled him closer, into a hug. She yearned to feel the warmth and comfort of his arms, but also she felt was cold emptiness.
'Not both of us, anyway.' Fiona said, the words still tumbling out of her, distant and without thought.
'Well, if push comes to shove...' Fernald’s voice trailed off. 'Look, just remember. Remember what your mother -'
And suddenly she was pulled, backwards, jerked away from him, tumbling into darkness, falling down, spiralling. Her surroundings melted away from her, the darkness infecting her senses and forcing the images and sounds of her memory away from her. She reached out, her hands trying to claw her way out, to grab a hold of something, anything, but she could not. All was gone, her surroundings faded away into nothing.
Fiona looked down, but there was nothing for her to see, Her eyes making a cruel mockery of her circumstances, She could not even see herself, no shape or form, just pure consciousness her only link to reality. Then, suddenly, far down below her, a light was opening up. She looked down, down, into the light, and she heard the voice again.
'What do you want?'
She reached out her hand, fingers stretching out to the light. Fiona could feel something, cold and solid, forming around her grip.
Her hand smacked repeatedly against the glass, each bang rebounding around her. There were tears burning in her eyes, and she felt weak, small, nothing more than a tiny ball of rage and fear.
And then Fiona saw.
The sea was thick and heavy, an inky blackness that covered most everything visible through the round circle of glass. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and for a moment her vision was blurred beyond all comprehension. It made no matter, Fiona knew what was out there, she did not need eyes to see it. It was an image she had played back so many times in her mind, it was ingrained deep within her memory.
Her mothers face was crying out in terror, as something, some strange, monstrous beast drew her deeper into its grasp. Thick black tentacles reached out, latching themselves onto her limbs, each strand pulling her closer. She was trying to escape, to work herself free, but with every passing second she was disappearing further into the darkness.
Fiona heard a voice cry out, calling for it's mother, and only then did Fiona realise it was her own. She was so small now, just a child, so weak and pathetic, and yet she kept hammering away, smacking her hands against the glass, desperate to get to her, to help, to try and do anything, anything at all to try and save her.
She could see her mothers face, a small light from the helmet cutting a swathe from the darkness that was surrounding her, bridging the gap between mother and daughter. Her mother was crying out, and Fiona was screaming now, the tears burning salty wounds in her face, and all of it was useless. Nothing could change what had happened, no matter how much she wished.
Fiona had relived this day a thousand times over, reliving every moment in the tiniest of details, but this was different. There was no mere memory or dream, this was real. The pain and the horror were so potent and real that she could feel it burning in her soul. It was a waking nightmare, a hellish torment from which she could not escape.
Fiona could see her mothers face, the fear in her eyes, the silent screams. She tried to close her eyes, to stop herself from seeing the horror again, but it made no difference. Her body did not respond to her thoughts, and she was forced to look on, to observe in helpless imprisonment, as her mothers face disappeared, lost to the darkness.
Her hands kept hitting against the glass, smacking hard against the cold surface over and over. She screamed, the sound so visceral and raw, her fist hitting the glass over and, a feeble assault that bruised and blistered, the pain building and building, erupting in that space between her hand and forefinger.
'What do you want?'
Then suddenly, once again, everything was gone.
The cold wind danced gently across her skin, its caress sending pinpricks of sensation shivering up and down her arms and making her shoulders shake. She could taste the scent of the sea in the air, her nostrils dry and raw from prolonged exposure to the elements. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and the salt made her senses burn.
It was early in the morning, and the sky was still and clear. There were clouds far away on the horizon, tinged orange by the sun, the rest of the sky a gentle blue. The sea was calm, lazy waves lapping tenderly against the hull of the ship. Fiona felt almost peaceful, at home, as though she was back where she belonged, but as the deck moved steadily beneath her feet, the swaying motion made her feel suddenly dizzy.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, a firm grip that turned her towards its owner. It should have made her jump, the unexpected shock of the moment, but it didn't. Her emotions and her thoughts gave her body no response.
Instead, she turned and felt herself smile as she looked upon Harry's face.
'Well?' she heard her voice ask, but the words were not her own.
A grim smile cut across his face. 'I’ve only had a chance to speak with a few of the men you suggested. Most of them…..I feel we can’t trust, the others...' His voice drifted away to nothing.
Fiona sighed, and she could feel her pulse quickening. She turned away from him, staring back out across the ocean.
'They will have no choice. Stubborn as they may be, sooner or later, they will have to start listening to me.'
'To us.' said Harry, and he took his place next to her. She could feel the heat of his body against hers. 'You're not alone in this, Fiona.'
She shook her head. 'You don't understand me, Harry.'
'What do you mean?' said Harry. His voice was steady, but she noted the confusion in his tone.
Fiona took a deep breath, and she felt her shoulders crack as she tired to push the tensions out of herself. Her eyes were fixed on those distant wisps of clouds, unable to look away.
'Don't you ever feel like all of this has happened before? Like your life is just an endless circle, spinning round and round, a never ending cycle? Or maybe not even that. It's like I'm spiralling down, the revolutions getting smaller and smaller, until.... well, I don't know really. I don't know what's waiting for me at the end.'
'What do you mean?'
Fiona sighed, and leant back against him. 'I mean... that all of this has already happened to me before, Harry.'
'I don't understand you, Fiona.'
She smiled. 'It doesn't matter.'
Silence grew between them, and Fiona listened to the gentle sounds of the wind braying with the sea, and tried to understand what was going on. Her mind was disconnected from her body, that much she knew. The memories she had witnessed how been so vivid and real, as if she had really been there, that she could not have questioned their authenticity. Now she was back, but she didn't seem to be all quite there. Fiona felt as if she had not quite arrived.
'Fiona.; said Harry,
'What?' Fiona said, her heart pounding in her chest. After several minutes of silence his voice had made her jump.
Fiona turned to look at him, waiting for a response that was not immediately forthcoming. Instead, he took his hand into his pocket, searching for something. There was a moments hesitation, and she could sense an embarrassment bubbling up inside his eyes. It felt as if he were exposing some great secret to her.
He took something out of his pocket, and placed it carefully into her hands. It was a quick motion, secret, furtive, as though he was afraid someone else might see, some unknown watcher lurking in the darkness that would unexpectedly intrude upon them.
It was a leaflet, the pages old and weathered, tears and rips adorning its pages. There were deep lines and creases where it had been folded and refolded over and over, and it was stained with black smudges, fingerprints leaving thin dark lines peppering the pages. After a few moments, Fiona realised it was.
It was a programme, promoting a theatre production of some king. There were the names of the actors and producers in small type at the top, and the name of the performance 'The Voyage of the Prospero' was written underneath them in block capitals. There was a drawing of an old sailing ship, not dissimilar from the one in which they were currently travelling, passing under a heavy brocade of stormy skies.
'What is this?' Fiona asked.
'I found it, in my fathers study. I managed to put it in my pocket before -, well, before I left. There were many things, things that I didn't understand, but I think that I'm finally starting to.'
'Hello?' Came a shout, interrupting. The voice was calling from afair, and they both turned suddenly, facing towards its direction
'Hello?' said the voice again, suddenly louder, insistent, and Fiona looked up into the eyes of Dr Rasmussen.
Everything had changed.
In an instant, her surroundings had been snatched away from her. She had been transported, the boat and Harry disappearing in-between heartbeats.
Fiona could not tell where she was, her surroundings all but blocked out. She could only see the face of the doctor peering down into her own, uncomfortably close.
'Hello?' Rasmussen said once more, his brow furrowing in concentration. Fiona tried to move, to shift away from him, but it was pointless. Whatever was happening to her, she was starting to understand the rules and limitations. She could not respond or interfere. She had become a passive observer to her own life, even towards those things of which she had no memory or understanding.
'I think she's just dreaming.' said Rasmussen, and he took out a small torch. The light shone in her eyes, and she could feel water building as the pressure increased in her head. She tried to blink, but her body would not obey.
Rasmussen shook his head, disappointment creasing across his face, and he moved out of her field of vision, leaving Fiona alone.
Time passed, minutes eking away against the silence, as Fiona stared blankly out into space. The longer she remained, the more Fiona began to register small details or what was going on around her. She could hear the gentle hum of the machinery, and the muffled talking of busy voices. Fiona could feel the weak numbness that was eating away at every muscle in her body, and she felt as though she had not rested in months.
The coldness was beginning to creep into her naked flesh, except for the heat that she could feel biting into her wrists, snaking its way up her arms. Her body was dead and cold, numb to all feeling and sensation except for the pain that branched out from her wrist. It was like a thick, leaden rope was growing inside her, reaching inside her skin and pulling at her, trying to find her soul and claim it for its own.
A figure appeared before her. Fiona's mind was so hazed, so uncertain, that she could not be sure who. She could feel warm hands touching her skin, and hear someone talking, but the words were indistinct and foggy.
The next moment, she felt something pulling out of her, the numbness in her limbs giving way to searing pain as she was separated from the machine. Her body felt limp and lifeless, and she felt herself falling into the arms of the person who was attending her.
Fiona was being walked, her footsteps lazy and unsteady, like a deer struggling to take its first steps. There were cold hands pressing against her, and she could feel goose pimples rising on her bare flesh. As she moved through the room she became aware of others, her nakedness making her feel ashamed, but they paid her no attention. It seemed they were not even aware she was there.
Fiona felt herself being forced down into a seat, and she could not say how long she remained sat there before her attendant came back. She was pulled upwards, and found herself being dressed into a gown. She had no strength left in her, not even enough to lift her arms, but it made no matter. Her limbs were picked up, like a child's, and pushed into the sleeves of the gown, and suddenly she could feel some warmth beginning to seep its way back into her bones.
'There.' said a voice. 'Let's get you back to your room, shall we?'
The attendant moved back into Fiona's field of vision, and that's when she remembered. When the woman smiled at her, Fiona did not know what to make of it. She had a beautiful face, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. There was a scar above her left eye, one that cleaved her eyebrow asunder, and Fiona knew, she knew who the woman was. She could see the thin line of a necklace slung around her neck. It was her necklace. Why did she have it?
Fiona tried to cry out, to scream, but she could not form the words. Instead a pathetic groan fell out of her mouth, and she reached up, her arms outstretched, as she tried to snatch at the necklace, to take back what was hers. It's mine!
As Fiona lashed out, Beatrice moved out of the way. Then the ground came rushing up towards her, and Fiona heard the sound of her own face smacking against the ground more than she felt any pain. She lay there for a moment, helpless, pathetic, unable to move.
But she had. Just then, she had thought, to reach out, to move, and she had. For a moment, at least, she had taken back control of her body. She knew that those were her thoughts now, rather than the thoughts she had had back then. She knew.
'Can I get some help here please?' said Beatrice, her voice beginning to fade away from Fiona's mind. No, Fiona thought. No, not now. Not when I’m just starting to understand.
There were footsteps, someone running towards her, but even as the sounds grew closer Fiona could feel them fading away. She felt firm hands gripping her arms, and suddenly she was being pulled upright again
'There we go.' said Harry, and he smiled at her, his deep blue eyes full of kindness. 'Let's get you to your room.'
And then everything turned a pearly white, as the world slipped away once more.
Fiona was somewhere new, some place that she had never seen before. The walls seemed to be made of smoke, smoke that drifted lazily in the air around her. The room was dark, but there was a brightness all around her. The light seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere, both at the same time.
Fiona tried to focus her eyes, to see what else was there, but she could not. Every time she tried to focus, the images began to blur and drift around her. There was no real sense of depth or space, so she could not be certain if the room was small or huge.
In the distance, she could see the outline of a table, its features lost in the foggy shade that surrounded her. Fiona could not be certain how near or far the table was, the lack of any other features making it impossible for her to judge.
Fiona tried to move, but as she had guessed, it was no use. But there was something different this time, a sensation different form what she had felt before. Her body did not respond, no movement came from her instruction, but it was not out of restraint or lack of control. There was a freedom in her mind that seemed separated from the constraints of any physical form, and Fiona realised that her body did not really seem to be there.
It was like a dream, one she had so many times before, of her mind floating free of her body. Her consciousness seemed to be drifting, detached from any physical boundary or prison, and as she looked around Fiona realised that she was not, in any real sense, truly here.
It was then that she noticed the man. He was sat behind the table, at the quarter furthest away from her. It was him, of course. The same figure she seen on the boat, and in her dreams. Or had they always been the same thing?
He was dressed in a cloak of deepest black, a mane of fur resting heavily around his neck, the black belt of a bandolier slung across his shoulder. He wore a ruffled hat, and it moved with his brow. creasing together in consternation as his stare turned towards her. His eyes were two small flints of darkest onyx, and as he smiled at her they glimmered, a gleam of light reflecting on their glassy surface.
When he spoke, the words burned deep into her mind.
‘You should not be here.’
And then came the pain.
A terrible, crushing force begin to clasp itself around her mind. A tremendous weight began to pound inside her head, and she felt herself falling, falling down to the ground. Waves filled her ears, and a thunderous roaring crash that confounded all of her senses.
Everything was spinning around her, and Fiona scrambled to her feet, trying to gain some semblance of direction. It was strange to suddenly find herself back in her body, seemingly more in control than she had been before. The swaying of the ground told her that she was back on the ship, and as she put out her arm to steady herself she realised where she was.
Her hand made contact with the cold bronze of the unyielding door, its surface suddenly warm to her touch. How often had she stood outside this door, desperate to know what secrets lay on the other side, but never before had she felt this. The door seemed to be alive, the heat pulsating against her skin, responding to her touch. It had woken up.
She pulled back her hand with a start, and could see the thick black lines that were running across the surface of her skin. Fiona knew now that it was not just a case of where she was, but when, and she was certain she knew.
'What's happening?' cried Harry, and her heart jumped for a moment as she felt his hands against her skin, pulling her back up to her feet.
'I don't know.' Fiona replied, the words not her own. She knew what was happening, of course she did. They were about to be attacked.
The room was no longer spinning, but her head was dazed and confused, difficult to balance upright. She could feel the locket around her neck, and it too was burning with intense heat.
FThere were shouts and screams coming from above the deck, Fiona knew, but there was something else, something that she had not noticed before. There was a sound, a whispering something, that was coming from behind the door. The lock of the door was blocked up, but Fiona could tell that from there was where the sounding was issuing from. Fiona made to move towards the door, but at that moment the whole room shook.
There was another tremendous roar, and Fiona could hear further cries echoing from above. Without wasting another moment, she turned and ran back along the corridor, the room frantically swaying to and fro beneath her. There was another cry, and Fiona felt her feet slipping, tripping over herself, and once more she fell.
As Fiona held out an arm to steady herself, and she felt her own weight nearly shatter it. Fiona was gripping the edge of a sink, her arms weak and frail, her body shaking from the effort to stop herself from falling.
The room was dark and cold, the silence deafening to her after the noise of the ship. Fiona forced herself up, but her back was stiff and heavy, and she could not make herself stand straight. Her arms were still shaking, and she could not bring herself to relent her grip upon the ceramic basin.
The bathroom was small, and despite it’s dinginess the room seem to be clean and well maintained. There was a small cup full of water, and a toothbrush and a rolled up tube of toothpaste sat at the edge of the sink. As Fiona looked around, she could still feel her arms shaking with weakness.
Her surroundings had changed so quickly that the moment had been imperceptible, and yet Fiona was most disquieted in where she found herself. Everything she had experienced prior to this moment had been something she had either endured before, or populated with people or places that she already knew. But not this time. There was nothing about the room that she could latch on to and secure her mind upon.
Only now did Fiona notice there was a woman, a stranger looking at her. Fiona looked up, the eyes locking with hers. The face was lined and heavy, hollowed cheeks hiding behind locks of greying hair, the red still glinting through here and there. The eyes were clouded and dour, spots of red punctuating the whites like blood spotting on parchment.
A voice spoke, but not her own, nor the woman's, but a man’s voice, one that she had never heard before. She turned to face him, but then everything vanished once more.
Once again, she found herself falling into darkness.
Her consciousness was failing, travelling through the deconstructed strands of her mind, and there was no way back.
She was lost.
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