The Unexposed Magazine No.2

Courtney Stanley The reality of this place stung Puck’s skin, tiny prickling needles. In the bed of his cold, dimly lit room he blinked away the harshness, the sharp edges and bright lights. Slits in his blinds gave way for moats of light crisscrossing over his bed, and he watched specks of dust flow through them. Little bits of skin, his skin, his life, floating around in those beams stretched across the room. He felt unwelcome in his skin, this vessel. He wanted to go back.

The bottle of pills beside his bed had been empty for weeks. Rummaging through the drawer, he shook numerous bottles but came up empty handed. He cursed, lying back down trying to calm his anxious subconscious.

In through the nose and out through the mouth. He breathed like he had been taught. Then relax the muscles, recall the dream. He tried to remember where he had just been with Bridget. Her face was unfocused; he closed his eyes tighter, trying to clean the lens of his mind, but he had no success. Images, tiny details, flashed by distorted and discolored like part of an old film: sunlight in her hair, hair blown off her shoulder, a crinkle in the skin by her eyes when she smiled with her stupid big mouth.

Stop focusing on the details.

He cursed and beat on his skull trying to shake loose those devious dream images stored in the recesses of his mind.

He made it summer just for Bridget, he remembered that. The grass was dying for a little rainwater and they lay with their long limbs all tangled up and sweaty from the relentless heat.

Whether he was actually dreaming again or it was just wishful thinking he wasn’t sure, but he was back in that field with her. When he reached for her she vanished. He called her name, he screamed until his throat was raw but made no sound. He heard his name whispered back, Puck, it said. Then he was being shaken.

“Puck, you’re doing it again.”

A woman sat down on the bed beside him.

“Puck?”

He shook his head, the images getting all muddled up again.

“Well I know how to cheer you up,” she said with a devilish grin, ripping the sheets away and sliding her tongue down his chest.

“God Tessa, not now.” He said, pushing her head away.

“Hey,” she said fixing her hair. “I was only trying to help. If anyone has the right to be all moody it should be me with you calling out that other chick’s name all the time.”

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