Friday, December 16, 2011


This is the latest piece in the story of Alex and Kayla's which I began here and continues here, here and here.


Okay.    Kayla sighed, as she moved her eyes around as she took in her darkness.

She was exhausted.  She was trying.

Kayla baby, hang on.  Hang on.  I love you. 

She could hear Alex's voice.  She had been hearing him for the longest time now.  So comforting yet filled with heartbreak.

He missed her.

Every time she heard his voice, an ache would run through her - deep and gut wrenching.   She missed him just as much.

She would then try to open her eyes but found herself trapped in this darkness.

Along with Alex's voice, she was now hearing other voices: Cameron, Alex's son.  The nurses - she could tell it was them in the way they spoke to Alex.  Marlon - Alex's manager.  Friends, even though there were moments she confused Tracey with Genevieve.  The boys - Seth and Zane - the two-thirds of the jazz trio she belonged to.  She remembered that fact just recently.  That she was a musician.  And a photographer.

Alex's voice made her remember that last fact.  With the sound of voices, came a memory or two, except for the nurses, of course, since she didn't know them at all.

 Kayla, honey, please wake up.  For me.  Sweet girl, please wake up. 

It was Alex again.  His deep tone edged with his New Zealand accent was filled with heartbreak again. It cracked.  He was crying.  Again.

Her heart clenched.

Oh Alex.  I'm trying.  I'm trying. 

She remembered how she would do almost anything for him, she loved him so much.  This was no exception.

Okay.  Another try.  

Kayla strained as she tried to force her eyes open.


Tears threatened behind her eyes.

Alex, I'm trying.  I'm trying.  Almost there.

Almost there. 

This piece is inspired by a prompt from Write on Edge which asks us write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction about a countdown, starting with “Three, two, one.”

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood