This is my first story, not a long one I know, just testing the water with my foot in the shallow end. Little on the back-story, our yet unnamed hero or heroine, has been in a bit of an accident, and has a serious head injury and as you usually do when you have a head injury, he/she beginnings talking to themselves. May add to it later depends on how it's received and if i have time.

Just a friendly note, one character speaks in italics and the other in normal.

Cold and alone, this is how it ends.

A sound of hissing, somewhere nearby, Good maybe the tank will go up.

Just seeing….red, my blood, your blood, does it matter?

I move up and feel something biting deep into the flesh of my hand. I feel weak, dizzy. My legs heavy, my arms pressing on metal and….glass…. yes glass. I pull up on my arms, felt more biting all over my arms. The pain is different, then before. Different then the pain in my head, hurts more. The blinding, it’s too much the strain of pulling up, the biting, and the stinging. My flesh tearing on the glass, my legs numb and not moving…. I can’t it’s too much.

‘Don’t stop, your so close’

Finally … free. And I fall.

Not far.

But it’s not soft what I land on. More metal, uneven and… is that wood? Growing out of the metal of the cold ground?

‘The Pipeline’

What? Too tight around my head still. Can’t hear.

Wait.

I just see red. The bleeding paws, fumbling round, I can feel heat, I can’t hear it but it’s definitely a fire, my head so hot. What more metal, round my head?

I pull it off. It slips of out of my hands a moment later. The blood slicks off rather then sticks.

And I can see, not much, darkness, the glow of a fire. Trees here? Yes shadows of branches caught in the twisted dance of the autumn wind wrapping around them choking them to the moment where there would die. But the throttle releases ever time a moment before the ecstasy of death.

Ecstasy of death, what am I talking about?

‘Has it been that long?’

Was that a voice, no, the wolfs. They howling, silver in the moonlight, like demons, without the smiles.

‘They do when there’s a storm, always do. Be carefully, their can be dangerous.’

My voice? I’M I SAYING THAT?

‘Don’t worry idiot, you can blame it on the concussion.’

Not my voice, hollow, no feeling.

‘………’ Nothing? Oh god I’m going to be sick.

It just falls out of my mouth on too the floor, no effort as I lean forward, I stagger, fall. First to my knees then I fell backwards on too my back.

On my back, staring up at the stars, through smoke and leaves.

And I drift, my head getting lighter till it could just float away. Through the heavens to place that fills my mind with ideas that I would never understand, and I lie there thinking about all the things you never have time to think about usually, not with out been crazy or stoned or dying. ‘Yeah, I know or both!?’

‘What are you laughing at, idiot?’

‘I’m the idiot? You isn’t got a body, isn’t. Isn’t? Funny word.’

No, now it’s different I understand.

‘You won’t have a body for much longer…’

‘You couldn’t understand, you your singular, linear. Line…fabric softener, ha’

‘Stop this.’

…And a 1000 songs drift through my head in all the 1000 different ways that songs can drift through your head, backwards, forward, chopped into pieces one word at a time. It doesn’t make sense, all the things, that don’t connect and don’t make sense.

‘Wise, no, why’

‘Just get there. Already.’

Why is the sky blue? It could be any colour well any colour in the visible light spectrum anyway, (we must always respect science.) ‘Well I do.’

But it could be any colour; we could make it purple like the flowers from the book. We could make it green with sulphur, and I’d never like green or too read. ‘And we could make the sky thicker with smoke from our pipes, or we can thin it by cutting down all the trees. But you can’t make the sky fat, that’s not how it works, you can’t make the sky fat, but you can make it thin. Thick, strangest.

Strange.

Stranger.

Look at the stars.

I don’t think you see them like I do now.

I see them for real and true now.

‘You can’t see them through your twice jaded eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not seeing them with the wonder of a child. Who believes that if they wish on if they wish on a falling star, all they…huh…I’m a wish granter, I make miracles happen.’ I don’t see them as hope, I see them as greedy light, and you won’t see them like that yet. They still suns to you, big balls of burning fire, stars don’t think of themselves as big balls of burning fire. Stars don’t think about you or wish, or wish for you. Stars.

Star-eyed.

Star-crossed…

‘Where are you going now little lost idiot.’

Why write words?

Why tell those stories. When you can tell any story?

When you have the power to make any story possible?

You have a responsibility. Then again you don’t.

‘How do actors do it? How do they excuse themselves? I’ am not kissing someone who’s not my love. My character is. Little actor does your love believe that, in you, your character so much? A character is just words on the page. It’s your fleshes consuming one another, not characters, not there.’ ‘Especially if your bad actor or actress.’ Laugh.

'Why do we need planes, guns and furry dice? Because we are at war? In war you need planes and guns, and some people need furry dice to fight for. But instead of fighting, you’re thinking about planes, guns and furry dice. The planes and gun and furry dice aren’t real anymore, because….. You just thinking about thinking about planes and guns and furry dice. Till you just get dizzy.'

‘Enough’

‘And things are ok then when they twice removed. Magically. Somehow.’

‘I’ am tired of this; you get no where like this.’

‘Jackets, yes when we get the…’

‘I need’

‘Work.’

‘Yes, more work to do now’

‘So I’ll get up.’

‘Good, now run.’

'Getting up, now.'

‘You, an idiot. You think while you could be burning, you sacrifice yourself to own ideas that were never yours to begin with. If you die, you never will share what you thought with anyone. What would the point of been then? It’s a miracle you’re a live and maybe one day soon you’ll see the miracle I have performed through you.’

‘Jesus you’re full of it.’

‘You have no idea.’

‘Buddy, I don’t want to know.’ How very spiritually, my saviour with the God complex, which are you then?

Paramedics have noise feet ‘Charging 300! And clear!’

Well that's it my first story. It's really just an abstract moment from another big idea I'm having, but I need to know if anyone thinks this is any good first. I love writing and really want to improve so all reviews are welcome, even flames. Any questions just e-mail me it's on my profile.