The Price of Sight

[jammi]

The room was dark, the blinds drawn against Crete's volcanic midday heat. My physical appearance had altered drastically over the last few weeks - I had been losing weight like sand through open fingers and my previously bronzed skin was now a sick looking hue of white. In strong contrast to this, heavy black rings had gathered under my redened eyes - a side effect of far too little sleep.

I sat on the edge of my bunk, staring at my heavily shaking hands. I was ill. And the whisperings... My lips silently mouthed the cries of the voices that tormented me. If I concentrated I could bury the whispers, but I'd been concentrating so long... Occasionally things... Slipped. And the dreams! The horrible, horrible dreams!

I whimpered to myself as visions of purple plains and burning skies were drawn back to my mind's eye. The sight of alien ships burning cities, marching forward to quash the stem of foreign life that had stolen their birth-right.

Sometimes the voices were stronger than usual, but I'd a theory about that. The frayed edges of my mind had pulled together for a moment to suggest that the voices were following me... If I ran, and didn't stop, I could leave them behind.

I'd tried to escape one morning. I rented a sturdy truck and pushed it hard, riding out into the Plains. I'd stopped in the ruins of an ancient town, the alien architecture unusual and disturbing. But the voices had not been present. But then slowly they had returned, as if following me.

I stood up shakily, wobbling over to the keys to my ship. I would run. From one side of the Corsair Empire to the other if needs be. I would outrun my nightmares and the horrors of sleep. I had to.

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