Nathan was totally confused. He suddenly found himself in surreal-type surroundings, and he had no idea how he got there. He felt an oppressive heat and was sweating profusely. Beads of perspiration were running down his forehead and his face, forming tiny droplets on his chin. Every few seconds, several would drip to the ground and make tiny wet impressions on the parched pavement. He focused momentarily on the teardrop-sized spots, as though evaporating moisture was the only thing that seemed real in his situation. Where am I? How did I get here? What was at first confusion quickly turned to fear. There was nothing but empty space surrounding him—no physical objects and nothing he could touch or feel. He looked around again and was shocked to see a huge wall of stone that had not been there just a moment ago. It was as though it appeared out of nowhere. Panic emerged in the rapidly mounting shortness of his breaths and the unsettling sensations that were beginning to grip him within his chest. He tried to calm himself by focusing on the wall, as it was the only tangible object he saw. It stretched endlessly on either side of him and seemed to disappear at some point outside of his line of vision. It was as though everything in the world was swallowed up except for him and the wall. He was desperate to make some sense of this, for he was feeling as though he was losing his mind. He was far too much of a practical and methodical thinker to allow himself to panic. As his eyes scanned the wall, he noticed that the larger stones formed the foundation; while higher above him the stones became progressively smaller. He noticed hundreds, if not thousands, of cracks and crevices between the stones, every one of them stuffed with tiny pieces of paper. He had an impulse to run—but which way, and to where? He had no idea of where he was. The wall must be the key, he thought. Perhaps it was an illusion, or there was an opening he could not see—a secret door within the wall through which he could walk and be freed from this madness. Nathan slowly reached out and extended his hands to touch the rough-hewn stones. He ran his fingers down the wall and realized he had no sensation or feeling. Perhaps the wall was an illusion all along? As he tried to focus, he sensed that someone was watching him. He even thought he saw a man and a woman walking toward him. It happened so quickly that it seemed like the flash of a camera—that sudden brilliant light that blinds you for the moment and then it’s gone— leaving nothing but spots before your eyes. Just then, he heard sounds like firecrackers. They were short, rapid bursts, similar to an automatic weapon—the sound of a machine gun he had once heard in an old-time gangster movie. His heartbeat increased by the second. The pounding within his chest seemed to be the only reality that he was still alive. Those rapid-fire sounds began again, only this time they seemed louder, as though they were right behind him. Instinctively, Nathan fell to the ground. His body slammed hard against the coarse pavement. He held his arms over his head in an attempt to protect himself from whatever threat there was. The bursts continued, and now there was a second sound, the clinging of hundreds of small metal objects bouncing on the cement. Bullet casings, he thought, but there were none that he could see. The same sounds continued for another minute or so, and then suddenly, they stopped. An eerie silence quickly enveloped all his senses, as he thought, am I injured? He knew something was wrong, but there was no pain or evidence of physical injury. His attention quickly turned to a wet, sticky liquid that had not been there when he first fell to the ground. It was forming all around him in a puddle and growing larger as he watched. Slowly, Nathan reached out his hand to see what it was. He placed his index finger into the puddle, raised his hand, and saw that it was blood. But whose blood is it? Where did it come from? I have no pain anywhere in my body, so it can’t be mine, was all that he could reason for the moment. He abruptly sat up and examined his chest, his legs, and his arms. Then he heard tiny splatters on the cement behind him, resembling the sound that his drops of perspiration made a while ago. Nathan stretched his arms behind him as far as he could reach, attempting to feel his lower and upper back. His fingertips brushed against small holes in his skin, oozing his lifeblood from each of them. But how can that be? he thought. I don’t feel any pain! There was nothing else to reason except that he had been shot multiple times by someone or something he could not see. He had only heard the sounds of the gunfire. The entire event was so surreal that he felt there was no choice but to simply give up his will and accept his circumstances. His conscious life was seeping from his body so quickly that he began to feel a sense of weightlessness. His eyes drifted over toward the wall, and he sensed an overall peace within him as though everything would be okay. Do I get to meet God now? he thought. A feeling of disorientation was taking hold of his conscious mind when the silence of the moment was suddenly broken by screams. They were deafening, high-pitched shrills that echoed all around him. As quickly as the fear had left him, it erupted from within as he was filled with an overwhelming panic. Nathan struggled to his feet. The intensity of the screams increased, and he also tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth. He attempted to run, but his legs wouldn't move. He looked down at his feet and realized that he was standing in a puddle of his own blood. He tried to scream again for someone to help him, but no help came. Suddenly the light around him began to dim, growing darker and darker, until finally it was pitch black. Sweat and blood were literally pouring from his body, and he was sure that he was dead because of the blackness. This can’t be, I’m thinking and reasoning. People who are dead don’t think and reason—they are dead! It was a moment suspended in time; a moment of the known being unknown and the real becoming surreal. Nathan began to weep, and he fell back to his knees. He lifted his arms and cried out for God. He inhaled all the air he could draw into his lungs and exhaled a scream that magnified itself tenfold as it pierced the night. The scream was so loud that it was heard by just about everyone in the college dorm. They all came running to his room to see what had happened. Several commented that it sounded as though someone were being murdered. When he realized that his sweatshirt and his sheets were soaked with his own perspiration, all he could do was to sit up and weep, his shoulders shaking from the sobs. His roommate, Josh, and some fellow classmates attempted to console and calm him. In the twenty-one years of his young life, it was the most realistic and frightening nightmare that Nathan had ever experienced. It was too realistic, and he could not shake that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was so real that every now and then, without the slightest provocation, the memory of that nightmare would come back and touch his conscious mind. He was always left with the same sinking feeling, and regardless of his efforts to change his thoughts, he had a foreboding sense that the nightmare was some sort of a supernatural warning. Excerpts 2 |
| EXCERPTS Chapter One |
