Hazy View: Souls of the Vanished (30 page)

“
Janet’s here to see you.”
He whispered and noticed Martin filled with fear. “You wait just
here while I go and get her.” He said, stood up and walked away
laughing as he knew that the speech therapist’s name wasn’t
Janet.

Martin felt his body froze. He tried
to scream but his voice escaped him. His head started to spin until
the room itself spun. He was dizzy, weak and unable to move. He
lifted his hand, it won’t move.

Sweat dotted his scared
face.

He lifted his hand again, it moved but
just barely.

He needed to escape room. His legs
won’t budge.

He tried his hand again. It lifted
more, but just enough to move the wheelchair.

With greater than great effort he
managed to get the wheelchair turned around. He noticed that the
orderly had left the door open. He didn’t see Martin moving from
the spot he had left him. The door’s not far, he could reach it
before anyone noticed. Freedom wasn’t that far, not that he would
ever see it again. Escape from Janet wasn’t that far.

Martin inched forward, sweat started
to stream down his face with ever inch he moved forward. Slowly and
exhausted he reached the door. He peeped around the corner. His
mind jumped.

Stairs led downwards to a wall, turned
and descended again to the floor below. An obstacle he couldn’t
beat.

Martin sat looking at the stairs, his
mind drained of thought. Soon Janet would climb those stairs and
he’d live through the torment and torture again. Why couldn’t she
just leave him to die alone?

He stared at the stairs again then
smiled inside.

A means to an end...

He managed to grab the doorpost and
thrust himself forward, the wheelchair moved only a few
inches.

He tried again.

The wheel of the chair slipped over
the first step and tumbled forward over Martin as he trusted
himself out of the chair down the stairs. The wheelchair fell with
a loud thump against the wall and silenced. Martin lost
consciousness somewhere on the stairs and landed with his neck on
the chair.

He didn’t move, finally it was
over.

His sorry excuse of a life had finally
passed and he would be able to escape the torment that had held him
in the living while his body had already died. Now his mind had
left him and he felt nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing. Peace
washed over him.

Weeks had passed and he finally opened
his eyes, feeling the warm sun on his face. He saw the sun but felt
no breeze. His eyes started to focus and he saw nothing more than
white around him, the sun filling every space of it. It was light
and bright. He blinked his eyes and tried to lift his head. His
body still needed to feel the sun, and then it’ll move. He blinked
his eyes and tried lifting his body again. He could hear something,
it sounded like there were people around talking.

Then silence.

He tried to speak but he still only
made grunting sounds.

Something came into focus.

A man stood in front of him,
smiling.

He waved his hand in front of Martin’s
eyes.

Martin grunted again, trying
desperately to talk.

“
You must be the dumbest
person I’ve ever dealt with. What were you trying to do, kill
yourself?” The man asked but his words were almost unrecognizable.
“You didn’t kill yourself. You only managed to break your neck. The
reason you can’t move is because you’re paralyzed from the neck
down. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.” The man wasn’t a doctor,
it was his favorite orderly. “Don’t worry. No one has taken you
favorite place yet. As soon as I get back I’ll take you there.” He
said and walked away laughing without a shame.

At the door he paused and turned to
Martin. “Don’t go anywhere now.” He pointed his finger at Martin
still smiling.

*~*~*

About the
Author

Aletta Maria Smith
was born in South Africa in 1974. Living on a farm, she
didn’t grow up with the privileges as most children in school. As a
child she relocated every year, meaning each year it was a new
school and new friends. She was mostly alone and detached from
children her age. At age twelve she started writing short stories
and built up to full length novels by the age of twenty
six.

Although, she never got far with her writing she wasn’t
fazed. Each time it failed, she tried again. As her Grandfather
always told her, “you can fail a million times, but only succeed
once”. She started writing seriously at the age of twenty nine,
completing three manuscripts;
Earth’s Final Day
,
Bitter
Freedom
, and
Hazy View: Souls of the
Vanished
.

The first two manuscripts paved the way for
Hazy View
. Currently, she is working on the sequel to this book
titled
Hazy View: Woods of
Horror
. A new
manuscript
Rising Fury
is still in skeleton form, but
something to look out for in the future.

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