SICKLY-SWEET COPPER NIGHT

*note: this short story talks of a near-death traumatic experience

CHAPTER ONE

The Night He Was In Hell

The night smelled of a cloying sickly-sweet copper, overpowering the senses.

drip.

His eyes opened to a mesmerizing exhibit of seductive red flames, frolicking gracefully across the stage.

drip.

A peculiar quivering drew his reluctant eyes to the phone in his creased pants. Why was he kneeling?

ba-bump. 

He reached out to answer the phone - except his hands were rebellious. They insisted on staying nestled behind his back. Then as he shifted, a searing needle of hot pain coursed through his body, awakening his reality. What was he doing kneeling on the floor with his hands tied behind his back?

drip.

A nameless terror completely possessed him; the dancing flames had grown into a wicked inferno, its blazing ribbons licking him, taunting him. The cloying, sickening smell of blood left him gasping for air - where was it coming from?

ba-bump. ba-bump. 

As he thrashed, the phone tumbled out of his pocket, and the world was interrupted by a bright ringtone, the jarring melody looping over… and over. Was… was this an ode to his death?

drip. d-drip.

The hopeful ringtone sounded almost ironic in this infernal world, as if it was… mocking him. A tear dropped from his glassy eyes. Please… shut up. 

drip. drip. drip.

It was no use struggling. He could feel the lurking presence of death, waiting to collect him. And the stupid phone was still mocking him, laughing at him. He closed his eyes, letting the acrid smell of sickly-sweet copper become his reality.

drip.

CHAPTER TWO

The Shadows Were Just Shadows

The spiral-patterned lamp was flickering softly, casting gently winking shadows upon the wall. It was hard to believe how heat in this form looked so delicate and harmless when almost two months ago it had nearly killed him… woah, suddenly the gentle flickering shadows were all around him, and - how had he not noticed it before - the world was hot-red, roasting him, suffocating him. Somewhere out there, a haunting ringtone was laughing at him, at his misery…

“Mr Yates?” The woman said.

He was back in the office. The shadows were just shadows after all. 

“I’m sorry.” Yates mumbled. 

“No, no, it’s fine.” The woman studied him with her cat-eye glasses. “Tell me, what did you see? Was it the fire again?”

Yates rubbed his shoulders, embarrassed. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

The woman took a sip of water. A small drop dribbled onto her name tag: Alice Porter, Therapist. “Talk. You’ll feel better.”

Yates wiped his sweaty hands onto his pants. “Yes, I had a flashback of the fire.” He did not mention the ringtone; it was too embarrassing to say aloud.

Alice leaned forward. “Mr Yates, maybe there’s a way I could treat your condition. Have you heard of EMDR?”

CHAPTER THREE

Manly Yates

Through the glass of water, the therapist’s face looked funny. Her features were completely distorted, a nightmarish, shapeless monster whose enlarged mouth was moving in fascinating patterns.

“-Mr Yates?”

He looked up. “Sorry?” 

Alice Porter sighed. “When you think of the incident, how true do the words ‘I am safe now’ feel to you on a scale of zero, totally false, to seven, totally true?”

Yates tried not to stare at Alice’s cup of water. “I… I think three?”

“And when you think of the incident and the words ‘I am powerless’, what emotions do you get?”

“I feel… completely helpless-” The night suddenly smelled of a cloying sickly-sweet copper, overpowering- Yates almost gagged. He could feel the memory of that night lingering, waiting to be relived. With a shuddering breath, he pushed it away.

Alice eyed him. “Are you okay with this?”

Yates was suddenly impatient. “I’m fine.” Be a man, Billy Yates. Handle this like a man.

“If you say so. On a scale of zero, no disturbance, to ten, highest disturbance, how disturbing is it now?”

“Ten.” Yates blurted out. 

“And where do you feel the disturbance in your body?”

-The dancing flames had grown into a wicked inferno, its blazing ribbons licking him, taunting him. Yates shut his eyes. “Everywhere.”

The hot-red flames were everywhere-

No. 

Engulfing him, slowly licking his burns-

No… Billy, be a man!

Somewhere, both the ringtone and Alice were laughing at him, he was sure.

Some man you are, Billy.

CHAPTER FOUR

Hysterical Flaming Ballerinas

Her perfectly manicured fingernails were red. Red like the flames of the inferno that night. Red like the blood that had spilled out of the gun wound the gang had given him that night. Red like the distinctive blindingly red lips of Elena Castillo, the paralegal who had saved him from hell that night.

“Mr Yates, are you tracking my fingers?”

Yates fixated on the red fingernails moving back and forth between his eyes. 

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Take a breath… Let it go… As you think of the incident, how disturbing is it, from zero to ten?”

The night smelled of an acrid, sickening copper, overpowering the senses. He opened his eyes to a corps of mesmerising flaming ballerinas, frolicking around gracefully. A peculiar quivering drew his eyes to his wrinkled pants and-

“Four.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow. Okay, track my fingers again.”

The fingers bounced back and forth in his field of view.

-What was happening? The ballerinas were streaming in; they were all over him. Their touch was searing hot, forks of pain prodding into his skin-

(Back and forth.)

-They were laughing hysterically, beautiful sopranos giggling at his helplessness. It hurt even more than the pain that was racking through his body, even more than the gun wound in his side where the sickly-sweet blood was dripping out.

(Back and forth.)

Why wouldn’t they shut up? He wanted so desperately for them to-

“-Shut up!” 

“Sorry, what?” Alice looked at him strangely.

Yates took a shuddery breath. “Sorry, I… uh, can we stop?”

“Yeah, sure. Go take a breather.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Inferno

The air was perfumed in a cloying, sickly-sweet copper. It was all around his bedroom, the heavy taste of blood; it was in his nose, in his throat.

(Back and forth.)

Now you could see it, the air was outlined, very subtly, in blood red. But no, the desk, the lights, the bed, were all twisting out of proportion - suddenly something bulged out of the distortion. A monstrous hand, made out of fine, blood-red mist?

(Back and forth.)

It reached out and - the hand barely touched him - but suddenly, he was ablaze; he could not comprehend how he had turned into the very inferno that was meant to kill him… the burns that had started to heal awoke to excruciating pain-

“Mr Yates!”

He was on the floor. Apparently he had knocked over the cup of water; water was dripping steadily onto the snowy white carpet.

 And the burns all over his body throbbed with pain. How? Weren’t his burns supposed to be healed? Was the pain even real?

Alice was gawking at him now; she looked so stupid Billy Yates wanted to wipe that expression off her face. She was probably laughing at him inside, just like the ballerinas and the ringtone…

In the awkward silence, Billy Yates kept his eyes focused on the beads of water dribbling down the table, praying for the pain to subside.

And in that instant, that was when he felt it. It was just a slight itch, a little prickle, but it was… everywhere. Lurking inside him, in her, in the light, overhead, in the curtains, it was everywhere. No, he and the therapist were not the only ones in the room. 

Yates gave a strangled gasp. “Turn off the lights.”

Alice Porter blinked her magnificent hazel eyes. “What?”

Somewhere, Yates tasted the acrid sickly-sweet copper of blood. No! It’s too late!

Then, they came. Surging out of the ceiling, frolicking out of the spiral-patterned lamp, pouring out from the window, climbing out of Alice, the flaming ballerinas embraced his body. 

He was on fire. Flecks of sickly-sweet copper blood decorated the snowy carpet. A symphony of giggles was laughing at him. Was it the ballerinas? The haunting ringtone? Alice?

And Alice was nowhere to be seen. The inferno wanted someone to be with him, to accompany him as he-

The inferno died.