Above Us Only Sky

Imagine there's no heaven...

Tom has lots of time on his hands when he falls ill, he looks back at his short life, contemplating and try to fathom out what went wrong in his world when everything comes crashing down.


4. Chapter Four

So here I lay, in my bed. It’s the middle of the night and I’m yet again awake, pain and an over active mind at fault. I raise myself out of the warm cocoon of my duvet and stand at the window. The street below is bathed in white light from the new street lights. Nothing much is moving on the streets below me in the valley, still it’s not as foggy as it has been. In the distance the distant rumble of of a plane draws my eyes to the sky. Somewhere up there is a jet full of people, probably all excited and full of expectation at travelling to foreign climes. My eyes trace the top of the opposite hillside towards the south east, my perpetual target. Rising over the telephone mast is the most beautiful sight, a yellow half moon rising into the heavens. It takes my breath away and I watch in silence as it slowly moves away from the short horizon. Then a car rumbles along the tarmac on the street and the moment is lost.

I lay down back in my pit. It’s still warm and my head feels hot. Through the forever open curtains, I can still see the moon shimming lightly in the sky. You know the thing where two of you look up at the moon from different places and have this connection, well didn’t feel it at that moment. I reached over for my tablets, pushing a couple out of the blister wrapper. I swallowed them, getting quite good at this now even without a drink. Placing the pack back among the others I looked at the array of drugs my body was relying on. How tempting it was at times, when the pain in the body got too great to take the lot of them and drift off into an unconscious state. Most times I did think it was worth living but when that searing pain erupted in my abdomen or the mental pain in my head and heart got so great, I did contemplate gobbling them down. Tonight wasn’t one of these though even though the pain was keeping me awake and my memories were engaging my thought patterns at a rate of knots.

I stared at the ceiling. The bluish light of my server in the box room glowed along the landing and into my bedroom like a nightlight. I hated the dark, the all encompassing blackness. I’d often sleep with a light on if I was alone in the house. I’m afraid of the shadows, scared of what might actually be lurking in the depths of my bedroom, in the recesses of my mind. Over the past few months the intensity of my nightmares have increased to the point where I sometimes am afraid to close my eyes, sleep put on hold just like my mind.

Tonight the shadows are there but hidden. My mind wanders to the past, at what I have lost but a searing pain brings me back to the present and the contemplations turn to my health. I lay there thinking about the disease that is eating its way through my body. I imagine I can see inside my skin, like an x-ray. I zoom in and think I can feel the cells dividing in my body, the disease eating its way through my very fabric. A cell at a time it might take ages but in my mind by the end of the night my whole body will be assimilated into another form. How can I stop its march through my abdomen, it’s almost relentless charge across my cells?

The tablets take the edge off the pain, but it’s always there in the background, a kind of nagging that reminds me of my predicament. I lay back and look at the ceiling. I listen to the stillness, if you can truly do that. I hear the reassuring snoring of my sister in the room next to mine, a few months ago it would irritate me but now it took on a beacon, a sign that someone was in my life. Down in the valley below I could hear the foxes calling, quite appropriate to the area. It all let me slip into a comfort zone. My mind going back to where this had all started just a few months ago.

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