Timothy Kiser
Bio
Stories (2/0)
Bubbles
I’m flying just above their heads, with the birds and the trees, but no one really notices, just a few children look up at me. They look amazed as I float their way, a few parents see me too, they smile and point only to look away. I see, no one seems to care as a float away, but I do. I see what maybe they don’t.
By Timothy Kiserabout a year ago in Fiction
Catalonia
From the silence a gasp echoes though the dense sea air. Swaying on the large smooth waves a lone life raft is cradled by the sea, up and down, down and up, gently rocking, serene and hypnotic. The sea as mother. From the raft a man awakens and heaves forward towards the sky raising his arms as he grasps at the heavens, he screams, “I am blind”! The sea air has wrapped him in its cold embrace. A thick dark fog limits his vision to but a few inches. He mutters, “Am I dead”? Frantically he searches for vision as he gropes around him, seeing and hearing nothing. He freezes and holds his breath as fear overtakes him. “I must be dead”, a tear drips from his eye. Setting as stone, not moving, not breathing, not hearing, not seeing, he is, alone. Waiting, waiting, waiting, for an angel, or a monster, for Poseidon? His mind races as to what is next. His body begins to shiver, and he knows he is alive. Slowly, he hears his heavy breathing; then the gently lapping waves, but nothing else, only silence. Finally, his eyes begin to focus and slowly he can see his hands, then his arms, his torso, and then, he feels the pain. Pain shoots as a lightning bolt through his head to his toes and he cries out, “Lord”! ‘What have I done? Where am I”? ‘I don’t know”! The pain strikes again, pushing him forward, he writhes as he pulls his head forward so violently that he lands face first into the water that covers the rafts the thin cold floor.
By Timothy Kiser3 years ago in Humans