Tuesday Tales and Seeing Ghosts

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.

A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. This week the word prompt is "ghost". You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds.  This will be an excerpt from my new yet-to-be-named WIP.

Enjoy!~

Nausea overwhelmed him, coming in consistent waves. He wretched until his belly emptied, then could only produce dry heaves. He curled tighter, trying to comfort his roiling stomach, which created pain elsewhere. He tried to recall what he was doing there, but thinking hurt his head with a sharp, itchy prickling. Yet flashes of faces assaulted his memory—Caleb, Morgan, old childhood friends, his mother, finally his little brother. The pain hurt his heart as much as the physical wounds. He tried dismally to make it stop. He couldn’t reach any of them, his voice seemed muted. The twilight of his reality kept him from knowing the real from the imagined.

It became difficult to breathe and he coaxed his lungs to expand and expel. Keeping his heart beating seemed to be up to him, and he struggled to find a rhythm. When nothing made sense, he held onto the physical pieces of himself. Everything was in pain and he tried to relax when the mind-numbing mini seizures stopped. His bowels emptied uncontrollably in his jeans, causing tears to flow, coursing down cheeks darkened from shame. The color only momentarily fazed the pallor, before Owen turned ghostly white once again.

He tried to spit the vile taste from his mouth, but his lips wouldn’t move anymore. The numbness became paralyzing and he wished his sense of taste was lost as well. His eyes became hot and bulged when he wretched again. The top of his head began to burn again and he willed his hand up to cover the pain, but they wouldn’t move either. Everything twitched on its own accord, a haywire non-stop pulsing made him feel his skin would split behind the mounting pressure inside his body.

Cold stung his toes and fingers, the effects of his nervous system confusing his extremities. Alternating between a white hot heat and freezing sensations created chaos in his already obstructed thought processes. Merging in a constricted pathway, Owen struggled to gain control somewhere, but where mind met matter slammed the two so hard, they shattered him internally.

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