Voices (fantasy)

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This is a story I wrote last summer for an English Lit class I had been taking. I hope you all enjoy it and feel free to leave some feedback if you'd like.

Voices of the past whispered across his brain. Fleeting memories of a life he knew he'd had, but couldn't grasp, flashed at the forefront of his mind, long enough to prove their existence but disappeared with a quickness that belied the speed of sound. Darkness enveloped him like a second skin that didn't quite fit. Panic set in as the man realized he didn't know where he was or why he couldn't see anything, including the hand he was waving in front of his face. Staggering to his feet from the prone position he found himself lying in, he heard the crunch of a gravel like substance beneath his shoes. He stood still for a moment, trying to gather what bearings he could in the pitch blackness that surrounded him, when a slight breeze washed over his face. Deciding that nothing worse could happen to him than what already had, he slowly made his way towards the direction the air had come. As he continued forward, he noticed a shaft of light in front of him, causing the knot of fear in his chest to loosen a bit as the realization hit him that he wasn't blind, but that instead where ever he had been, the darkness truly had been that complete. Tripping over the uneven surface, he fell through a wall of loosened rock, and into the bright happy sunlight of an early May day. Looking up into the pure blue sky, after his eyes had adjusted to the light, dizziness came over him as he found himself unable to understand that which he saw in the sky - something straight out of the second "Back to the Future" movie series. The highway near where he found himself was littered with vehicles coming and going, but yet so was the sky above it. He stumbled down the rocky mountainside to get closer, trying to decide if what he was seeing was real or a hallucination. Finally, his dizziness overcame him and he passed out beside the road, unable to process anymore of the information bombarding his brain.

* * * * * *​

"We have before us a man appearing around 30 years old, who, according to the identification we found in his pocket, is named John Retzlaff and was born over 100 years ago in 1979. He seems to be in relatively good health outside of the fact that a passing motorist saw him pass out near the shoulder of the highway. It is unknown at this time how he came to be there or why he was there," an older man in a white lab coat stated, with a small group of others similarly dressed milling about him. John stared up at him, his eyes wide, as he heard the statement in regards to his having been born over 100 years prior. The doctor and those listening in did not seem to notice John's wakefulness and continued to listen to the man's speech. "A team of investigators found a loose opening in the side of the mountain near where he was found, known to have at one point in time been an operating anthracite mine, but has since been closed since 1972. They believe he might have been somehow cut off from the rest of the mine in a pocket of rubble deep within the mine, somehow surrounded by a bubble of continuously fresh air, and until the recent construction loosened the rock in the area, preserved in a state of almost cryo-genesis due to the cold temperatures in that section of the mine. It is also believed that when the area opened up and warmer temperatures descended, this is what brought the man before us back to a state of consciousness. We will be holding him here and doing extensive testing to prove or disprove the theory that the investigators have been working on the past few days since he was found. If it is found to be true, just think of what we could learn from his genetic makeup alone in regards to our ancestors!"

One of the young men looked down at John's face, realizing he was awake and hearing every word coming out of the doctor's mouth. He took in the paleness of the face before him, the fear in the eyes that stared right back at him, and the worry lines around the man's eyes and mouth. He hung back as the doctor and the rest of the group exited the room, pulled a chair up beside the bed, and sat down. As he closed the distance between him and the man in the bed, a strong hand gripped his forearm.

"Please tell me, what year is it? Where am I? Who are you?" John's voice quavered as he asked the young doctor sitting beside his bed. His memory had returned in bits and pieces as his body repaired itself, the sound of his name on the older doctor's lips having triggered the rest.

"My name is Tim Koch and you're in St. Luke's Hospital in Jim Thorpe. I'm one of the doctors who worked on you when you were first brought in. As far as the year, would you tell me what year you think it is? What is the last thing you remember before you ended up here, outside of finding yourself in an old mineshaft?" He looked compassionately at the patient laying in the bed before him.

"It's 2009 not 100 years in the future! I was supposed to celebrate my 10th wedding anniversary but my boss asked me to take a quick run out to the old Mauch Chunk mine that we were surveying, seeing if there were areas that we could open up to the public and have serve as a museum. I went a bit too far in, got turned around, and next thing I knew the world was falling in around me. I must have gotten hit over the head with some of the falling rock, or passed out from the coal dust... I dunno... but next thing I remembered was waking up to pure blackness and then falling outside and seeing flying cars like they show in those futuristic sci-fi movies. Must have been a hallucination from a lack of clean air for so long." John looked at Tim, his gaze searching, hoping that his worst fears were not to be recognized. The look on the doctor's face made his stomach curdle, as he saw the pity coming to the forefront of the man's expressive face.

I'm sorry to tell you, John, but it is the year 2110. Our vehicles have had the capability of air travel for the past 25 years and they run on pure, clean, hydrogen power and not the gasoline they used to. World War III has come and gone, with many areas throughout the world rebuilding. There is so much more that has happened since you were last a member of mainstream society - too much to be able to go over or for you to comprehend at this time."

John laid his head in his hands, a sob wrenched from his now trembling body. Unable to sit and do nothing as he sees the incredible pain of the man before him, Tim lays a hand gently on John's shoulder. Unsure of what to do or say, he keeps his hand there as John releases a torrent of gut-wrenching weeping.

"My wife... our twins... my family... all gone! I feel like a John Doe with all his memories but still no idea who or what he is. This isn't my time. I don't fit in here. What am I supposed to do?" he asks, raising his red, tear stained gaze to lock onto Tim's.

"We're all a John or Jane Doe in some way or another. No matter where we are in life we're still learning who we are and what we're supposed to do with our lives. Some of us choose to act positively and proactively to live our lives to the best of our ability, learning about who we are and helping others learn as well. The rest decide to just take it laying down and let others tell them what and who they should be. I don't agree that you should be kept here for round after round of testing, and as I am officially your doctor, I will see that you are released into my care. Once we get that taken care of, you can stay with me until I can find you a place of your own, and if you're willing, I can help you start a new life, in this new age, so you don't feel so lost and alone."

John sat there for a moment, contemplating his new circumstances. He thought back to his wife and her sunny disposition and how she would always tell him to not let new experiences pass him by - to take life by the horns and make the best of any bad situation. Knowing she would not want him to wallow in his grief, though he knew it would take him a while to get over the loss of her and his children, he knew she had the right of things. He looked up at Tim and nodded, still unable to speak.

Tim smiled and patted John on the back. Standing, he put the chair back where it originated. He knew this must be difficult trying to comprehend such a drastic change in circumstances, and didn't think he'd be doing as good of a job as his patient.

"Here's to a bright new future. I know there will be grief for what you've lost, but hopefully you'll also gain that much more. I'll get started on the paperwork and you should see yourself a free man by the time I get off shift. I'll be back in a few hours, and since I'm sure the design of hospital gowns hasn't changed much since you were last in one, I'll make sure to have a change of clothes with me so that you're not baring your backside to the world, though that would be a good way to tell Fate where exactly not to let the door hit it on its way out."

As he had hoped, his parting shot, before he left the room, had John cracking a slight smile and letting out a bit of a watery laugh. Shutting the door behind him, he spoke to a passing nurse about getting John ready for discharge. Whistling, he made his way to his office, looking forward to both the learning and teaching experiences he had in his future with this man from the past.

 

Since no one else has responded here, and since I don't think the BoM would want you to think that no one gives a damn , I'll just say that while this wasn't my fav story of all time, I thought it was fairly well done.

If I may bludgeon you with a ham-handed analysis, this is an allegory for overcoming personal crisis in general? If so, I thought it was effective in that you didn't telegraph that intention from the start.

Keep writing/posting. I for one think it's nice when creative writers share their work here, be it fiction or poetry or what have you. One of the great benefits of the internet age is that you no longer have to be published to have your work read in comparatively widespread fashion.

 

Thanks!

It's not one of my favorites that I've written, but out of the ones I have quick access to while my mother borrows my laptop, it was one that I enjoyed the most. Some of the others I have stored on this computer, when I re-read them, sounded quite cheesy and I wondered how in the hell I was able to pass them off to my English professor and get an A. The one that I'm very proud of is still stuck on my laptop, and it wasn't written for any class but for my own enjoyment, since it was an abstract way of me putting my feelings into words that I otherwise couldn't communicate.

And your 'ham-handed' analysis was spot on, actually. Even my English prof didn't figure that one out.

Thanks for reading and letting me know what you thought As soon as I have access to my laptop, I'll definitely be posting my favorite one on here. Hopefully you'll enjoy that one a bit more than this one.