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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1781208
Rated: E · Novel · Death · #1781208
Gordon Fletcher is in a coma and only time can change this. But how much time is enough?
Nothing. The sound of nothing and feeling of nothing is quite something. Almost as if the mind cannot function with nothing to sense or conceive. When you try to think about total nothing you usually think of a completely blank dark space. Like when you close your eyes. However, this is just the idea of the color black. Some people try to say that black is not a color, but the lack of color. Others say it is all colors combined together. Either way, black is still something. So the common idea of nothingness is invalid. The real nothing, the anti-existence of everything, every sense, every thought... this had become the new reality for Gordon Fletcher. His last thought was that he was dead. That was back when all he knew was that typical dark blank space. He was not dead. He still had thought, he still had something. As it is now, he is still not dead. No, Gordon Fletcher was of a strong American bloodline. His father was a lineman, his mother a metal worker. Even the toughest of 5 children, Gordon could not have been expected to recover from this clench of nothingness. But he was going to. If only he could shake the nothingness that had now become his everything. He again wondered if he was dead. He was still very much alive. Now, almost with anticipation of the waking, Fletcher gasped as the realization of the dream state trickled down his spine. Gordon Fletcher had just awoke from a coma. A coma which had lasted 210 years. 210 years, 3 months, 2 weeks, 6 days, 5 hours, 37 minutes, and 42.6 seconds to be exact. But who's counting?

Before the coma, Gordon was driving his Chevy pickup truck down the 50 on his way home from a long day at work. The year was 1997, Fletcher was 23. He was working part time at a record store on weekends. During the week, he was the apprentice of a Dr. James Ingram. Dr. Ingram was a somoligist specializing in insomnia cases. Gordon Fletcher had always suffered from insomnia ever since he started high school. He met James during a special presentation the school board was rolling out due to safety concerns from parents. Apparently kids weren't getting enough sleep because of all the media interference and daily 'mind pollution' as they so fittingly put it. The simple fact of the matter was that Fletcher indeed had an unbiased sleep depriving mind proposition. Now was not the first, nor will it be the last, Dr. Ingram would find himself in the omnipresent life of Gordon Fletcher.

A soft blue chill came over Gordon as he began to hear again. He had more than something now. Yes, he was coming to and it was now 2207. As his breath quickened, the soft blue chill became visual as well as audible. The inner brim of his eyelids seemed to glow from outside light. A soft silver fade into the center. The sound Gordon Fletcher was slowly beginning to process in his temporal lobes was in reality Dr. Ingram's presence. The hairs on the back of his neck began to raise. Dr. Ingram sat down in a chair next to the bed Fletcher was in. As Gordon became more and more conscious, yet still sedated, he realized that Dr. Ingram had been there for a while. He was throwing away a syringe and some gloves. Gordon started to gain almost complete consciousness. He began to feel highly intoxicated. Dr. Ingram looked slightly aged, but not much that Fletcher would have noticed. As he tried to move, Gordon realized the sedatives where still in quite a bit of effect and he couldn't move at all. Still paralyzed, Gordon tried to speak. He began to grunt. Dr. Ingram said to him “It's alright Gordon, you're okay. Just relax, the drugs will wear off if you don't try to fight them. Just lay there and relax. In the meantime, since you're laying down, I've got some news to unload. First of all, the year is not 1997...” Just then Dr. Ingram picked up the TV Guide with X-Files characters on the cover and tossed it into the now full trash can. “The year is 2207. Gordon, you've been in a coma for the last 210 years. I'm here because I want to help you. So when you're ready, you'll know, but for now just relax.” Gordon Fletcher had the look in his eyes. The look of when everything you once thought you knew was true melts away into a puddle of memories. As Gordon lie there, the Doc went on explaining how the hospital room they were in was just a facade. In case anyone were to wake up in a drastically distant time period, the room and instant care givers will all feel like their 'idea' of time. Dr. Ingram was wearing a dark gray suit that had a slick pin stripe patterns here and there. It shone in a way comparable to sea shells... sold by the sea shore of course.
© Copyright 2011 Jake Thompson (jaket490 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1781208