The Winding Way
folder
X-men Comics › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-men Comics › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
Dementia
6:00 AM, San Fransisco,
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Leila tried unsucessfuly to return to bed after locating Randilyn, spending the night tossing and turning, guilt twisting her innards into a hangman's noose. It wasn't long before she found herself in her kitchen once more, dressed in a simple, filmy green peasant top and blue jeans, hunched over a steaming mug of coffee. The tile was cold on her bare feet and she shivvered despite the warm sun streaming in her window. The radio played stubbornly on the background, some nameless emo band she had never heard of bemoaning the difficulties of life. She turned it off with a scowl. The clock winked mockingly at her, 6:30 A.M. With a sigh she picked up the phone, dialing the number she had scribbled on the crinkled yellow sticky note the night before.
"Hello, Dr. Murphey. Yes. My name is Leila Buckland, I work with Dr. Cunningham here in San Francisco at the Metero General. I'd like to speak to you regarding a patient, Randilyn Gardner."
It took Leila the better part of two hours to convince Dr. Murphey to allow her to see Randilyn, the man having talked the young woman in circles in regards to relationship with the patient and her credibility as a psychologist, going so far as to put her on hold and call her employer. When all was said and done, however, and Dr. Murphey was satisfied, he seemed open to the idea that it would be good for Randilyn to have a visitor. Apparently in the six years she had been staying at St. Anslem's, no one had come to visit and her parents, who were the ones to admit her, seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.
She shook her head as she hung up the phone, leaning with her palms on the counter, her hair obscuring her pixie face. The smell of coffee brewing filled the air in the kitchen, soothing in it's sweet, heavy, pungent way. Leila willed herself to relax, turning her back to the counter and gazing absently out the window where lilac and wisteria tapped against her window as if demanding her attention. She watched the frantic motions of a sparrow as it hopped along a branch before taking flight. And then, it happened.
Everything went blurry, the kitchen swimming before her eyes. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of water over her, soaking her to bone. After a sharp intake of breath, everything went black, as though someone had put a blindfold on her. Then she saw the images. A church on the edge of a wood, lighing raking the sky as rain poured down. A flash of yellow eyes, white fangs and a puff of smoke. Screaming. A graveyard.
And then she was back in her kitchen, breathing ragged with terror as she gripped the counter for support. What was THAT?! The stench of brimstone overpowered that of the now finished coffee as she tried to calm herself. She tired hard to assure herself that it was nothing to worry about, but no matter which way she looked at it, she couldn't find a reasonable explanation for her to have a vision in the middle of her kitchen. Worst of all, it sounded like a symptom of schizophrenia. She shook her rust colored hair from her eyes.
"No." She said as firmly as she could. "Momentary aberration. I don't have any other symptoms. One time thing." She muttered to herself. And, then she groaned when she realized she had been talking to herself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
2:00 p.m, St. Anslem's
Leila shuddered, hugging herself as she waited to be seen. Everything looked exactly as it had in her dream, cold and grey, bland, despite the bright light pooling in from the windows and doors in the recreation room. Thankfully she had only a few minutes to wait. Dwelling on her dream and what happened in the kitchen made her queasy. Dr. Murphey was a rotund man, not quite tall, but built like a barrel, with dark hair plastered onto his head and a shaggy beard beneath bespectacled eyes that were as grey as the hospital itself.
~~~~~~Author's note~~~~~~~~
Short chapter I know, but I've been struck with a million pounds of writers block as far as this fic is concerned. I'll be contacting my muse this week in hopes of getting back some of my inspiration. Until then!
Athlea Kelly
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Leila tried unsucessfuly to return to bed after locating Randilyn, spending the night tossing and turning, guilt twisting her innards into a hangman's noose. It wasn't long before she found herself in her kitchen once more, dressed in a simple, filmy green peasant top and blue jeans, hunched over a steaming mug of coffee. The tile was cold on her bare feet and she shivvered despite the warm sun streaming in her window. The radio played stubbornly on the background, some nameless emo band she had never heard of bemoaning the difficulties of life. She turned it off with a scowl. The clock winked mockingly at her, 6:30 A.M. With a sigh she picked up the phone, dialing the number she had scribbled on the crinkled yellow sticky note the night before.
"Hello, Dr. Murphey. Yes. My name is Leila Buckland, I work with Dr. Cunningham here in San Francisco at the Metero General. I'd like to speak to you regarding a patient, Randilyn Gardner."
It took Leila the better part of two hours to convince Dr. Murphey to allow her to see Randilyn, the man having talked the young woman in circles in regards to relationship with the patient and her credibility as a psychologist, going so far as to put her on hold and call her employer. When all was said and done, however, and Dr. Murphey was satisfied, he seemed open to the idea that it would be good for Randilyn to have a visitor. Apparently in the six years she had been staying at St. Anslem's, no one had come to visit and her parents, who were the ones to admit her, seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.
She shook her head as she hung up the phone, leaning with her palms on the counter, her hair obscuring her pixie face. The smell of coffee brewing filled the air in the kitchen, soothing in it's sweet, heavy, pungent way. Leila willed herself to relax, turning her back to the counter and gazing absently out the window where lilac and wisteria tapped against her window as if demanding her attention. She watched the frantic motions of a sparrow as it hopped along a branch before taking flight. And then, it happened.
Everything went blurry, the kitchen swimming before her eyes. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of water over her, soaking her to bone. After a sharp intake of breath, everything went black, as though someone had put a blindfold on her. Then she saw the images. A church on the edge of a wood, lighing raking the sky as rain poured down. A flash of yellow eyes, white fangs and a puff of smoke. Screaming. A graveyard.
And then she was back in her kitchen, breathing ragged with terror as she gripped the counter for support. What was THAT?! The stench of brimstone overpowered that of the now finished coffee as she tried to calm herself. She tired hard to assure herself that it was nothing to worry about, but no matter which way she looked at it, she couldn't find a reasonable explanation for her to have a vision in the middle of her kitchen. Worst of all, it sounded like a symptom of schizophrenia. She shook her rust colored hair from her eyes.
"No." She said as firmly as she could. "Momentary aberration. I don't have any other symptoms. One time thing." She muttered to herself. And, then she groaned when she realized she had been talking to herself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
2:00 p.m, St. Anslem's
Leila shuddered, hugging herself as she waited to be seen. Everything looked exactly as it had in her dream, cold and grey, bland, despite the bright light pooling in from the windows and doors in the recreation room. Thankfully she had only a few minutes to wait. Dwelling on her dream and what happened in the kitchen made her queasy. Dr. Murphey was a rotund man, not quite tall, but built like a barrel, with dark hair plastered onto his head and a shaggy beard beneath bespectacled eyes that were as grey as the hospital itself.
~~~~~~Author's note~~~~~~~~
Short chapter I know, but I've been struck with a million pounds of writers block as far as this fic is concerned. I'll be contacting my muse this week in hopes of getting back some of my inspiration. Until then!
Athlea Kelly