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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/994849-Amnesiac-Rock
Rated: 18+ · Book · Horror/Scary · #2226830
A place for horror or darker stories, mostly written for 'Screams!!!'
#994849 added October 2, 2020 at 11:32am
Restrictions: None
Amnesiac Rock
Amnesiac Rock

The first thing that Connor became aware of was pain. His body felt as though it had been pummelled, but as bad as the rest of him felt, the pain in his head was worse.

Connor lay still, eyes closed, for he did not think that he could bear light, no matter how dim it might be. He had no awareness of time passing but eventually Connor realized how quiet it seemed. For however long he had laid there, he had not heard one solitary sound. The skin on his face felt tight and there was a vague stinging sensation. His lips burned, dry and caked with salt.

Connor knew that he was going to have to look around. His body was cramping and he needed to stretch out, ease his muscles before they clenched so strongly that his agony would only increase. Connor forced his eyelids to part just enough to let a tiny ray of light enter. Even that much made him feel nauseous and he turned his head to vomit, only to find himself starting to fall.

Grabbing and gripping, Connor pulled himself back. His heart raced in fear as he closed his eyes again, slowed his breathing. Okay... he was okay. That rolling motion had passed.

Where the hell was he? Connor could remember nothing of the recent days; in fact, his memory was so sketchy he almost doubted his name. There was too much of a familiarity about it though for him to be wrong. A name... well, at least that was something.

Whatever he was laying on was hard, rough; and there was a dampness to it too. Where was he? Connor knew that he had to open his eyes no matter how great the pain, and finally he summoned up the courage, forced them to obey. For a moment there was just a glare, nothing more, and then when his vision settled Connor realised that he was looking at open sky.

A gull flew overhead, and yet he heard nothing. No wing-beats, no squawks; just absolute silence.

With his eyes open he began to focus his attention on his fingers, his hands. The hardness became a rock. Water splashed against him, but there was no sound of waves. Connor pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around. In all directions there was nothing but a great expanse of sea.

What the hell was going on?

The rock was not big, or at least the part of it that remained uncovered. Connor had no idea how he had got there, who had put him onto it or why. Worst of all he had no idea of how he was going to get off it. There were cliffs in the distance, huge grey mountains. Connor had never been a strong swimmer and even if he had of been they were just too far. No one could swim from where he was to there... no one.

Water lapped over his hands, soaking his clothes, and yet he had not heard the wave as it broke against the rock. He lifted his hand, his right one, and gingerly fingered his head. Blood, dried now, but from the feel, quite a lot of it. An injury that had made his ears stop working? Not only was he stranded, but it seemed that he was deaf too.

Another wave soaked his hands and Connor forced himself up onto his feet. The rock was tiny, barely big enough for his prone figure to have fit on to. And unless he was very much mistaken, it was getting smaller and smaller. The tide was coming in.

There had to be a boat out there somewhere. There was no other way he could have been left there, other than helicopter. If only he could remember... Connor couldn't believe that he had done anything to warrant what was happening. He wasn't a bad man, was he?

The first shape beneath the water's surface was there and gone so quickly that Connor almost succeeded in convincing himself that it hadn't seen a thing. But when he saw it a second time, along with a second shape of a similar kind, he felt his body freeze. He'd have thought things could not have been worse, but clearly he'd been mistaken.

Sharks, two of them, no doubt attracted by the smell of blood... his blood. Now he was on his feet he could see the stains on the rock. Head wounds always bled a lot; he had read that somewhere. The sharks were in no hurry, but lazily swam in circles around the rock that was his prison.

Connor watched the water-level rise again. They could reach him even now, if they tried. He knew that; they knew that. There was only one reason that he could think of why they didn't and that was because they knew the sea and they knew they did not have to. He would be in their reach with no effort expended, and from the look of the rock that would be very soon.

Dragging his eyes away from the circling sharks, Connor stared out to sea. He was looking for a boat, someone that would sail in and rescue him. Nothing but water, so he tried the skies, scanning the clouds... There had to be someone that would rescue him. The sky was as empty as the sea.

Water covered his feet. Connor slipped, slid, struggled to keep his balance. He opened his mouth, let the terror pour out, but to him it was no more than a silent scream.


(933 words)

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