Ovi -
we cover every issue
Poverty - Homeless  
Ovi Bookshop - Free Ebook
worldwide creative inspiration
Ovi Language
Murray Hunter: Essential Oils: Art, Agriculture, Science, Industry and Entrepreneurship
WordsPlease - Inspiring the young to learn
Tony Zuvela - Cartoons, Illustrations
Stop human trafficking
BBC News :   - 
iBite :   - 
Fin Elegy - Chapter 1: The Visitor. Part 1 Fin Elegy - Chapter 1: The Visitor. Part 1
by Christos Mouzeviris
2020-11-29 10:25:42
Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author
DeliciousRedditFacebookDigg! StumbleUpon

Fin Elegy
Chapter 1: The Visitor. Part 1.

His eyes slowly opened as they blinked, still blurry and pained by the slightest of light entering the room, from the big window on his right. His mind numb and with his memory rebooting, he tries to configure where he is or how he got here.

He feels his body lying on a bed naked, half covered only with a sheet. His head has a pounding headache, his limbs yet to obey any orders that his brain generates. He cannot move still, as if he is being pinned down by the weight of his own bones. They are sore.

chapter_1__morpheus_as_somnifaerie_400The room is cold and dark, yet it is being partially lit by the vibrant, busy city lights coming from outside. It is still night-time. Muffled traffic noises join the visual presence of the bustling city that surrounds his room, although they are having a harder time reaching his brain. A sharp tinnitus-like noise dominates his inner ears, making it difficult for him hear anything more detailed.

This noise adds to his headache and for a moment, forces him to briefly close his eyes again. When he reopens them, he can see more clearly, but by now another one of his senses has awoken. With a dry mouth, he realises that is very hard to wash down the bitter taste present in it and his oesophagus.

He can now feel all his body, as he becomes increasingly self-aware. He is in a hotel room in a big urban area, it is night and there is a breeze coming from the window, making him shiver. He senses it reaching his body wave after wave, as if it is the city’s cold breath.

Soon after, he starts recognising some familiar odours in his own breath; nicotine, cannabis with alcohol and other chemical substances that he is yet to identify. He realises that he can now slightly move his neck, turning his head from side to side to inspect the room.

His eyes roll within their sockets, following the neck movements. His eyebrows frown during this effort. He is not able to see totally across the room still, as heavy curtains abruptly cut off the city lights at the middle of the large window on his right, leaving a third of the space around him in thick darkness.

Yet; his feelings are clearly expressed in his gaze. Fear, with an increasing sense of panic and urgency are being reflected through his irises, as his memory is yet to return. He continues to test his limbs for movement, realising that he can now slowly pull his upper body upright.

Although still shaking, he manages to lift himself on a vertical position, quickly pushing his back towards the head of the bed with the help of his legs. Once he rests his torso against the furniture, he looks around to inspect further his surroundings.

It is unusually quiet in the room and the whole building, with only the recognisable urban noises coming from outside the window. Yet he still feels very tired to make any effort to get to it, although he would love if it was finally shut; he is cold.

Trying to gather his courage to get out of the bed, he takes one last look around him. Apart from his comfortable lead-grey, platform framed bed, which was covered with white linens and fluffy pillows; there was little other furniture in this rather modern accommodation.

Beside his bed were two white cabinets, one on each side. The one to his right had only a small office lamp on, with a half empty glass of water. He extends his arm and brings the glass to his mouth, to wash down his foul breath.

The water trickles down his throat, but it offers him only an instant, short lived relief. He would need more than three gulps to satisfy his thirst. Coughing, he turns his head again to his right. By the window there was a black Windsor armchair, followed by a luggage rack which was lying empty under the casement.

The dark heavy curtain was covering the rest of the window opening, leaving little light to reach the far end of the room. On the left there were two white wooden doors, most likely leading to the bathroom and the wardrobe. There was a thick grey carpet covering the floor, while the entire colour theme of the space he could see was black and white. There was an evident lack of pictures or mirrors on the walls.

By the time he finished inspecting the room, his strength and determination to close the window have returned. He pulled his body to the right side of the bed; his legs were now hanging down, while his toes were touching the soft carpet.

This quick move briefly made him dizzy again, his eyes blurred while his ears filled with the high-pitched noise once more. He lifted one of his arms to cover the left side of his head as he lowered it, while with his right he continued supporting the rest of his body on the bed.

He lifts his head, now comforted by the heat of his palm and the gentle massaging from three of his fingers, as he tries to focus on his target, the window. Soon he realises that it was closed all this time. But then, where this draft was coming from?

Cold sweat run through his forehead and all the way down his spine, in the realisation of the effort he had to put in finding the source of what made him so uncomfortable. He looks around once more, but he could not find a telephone nor his clothes or any of his luggages.

“They must be somewhere across the room, over that dark corner,” he thought, as he made one extra attempt to get up. Suddenly, with his mind still dazed, he feels another cold breeze that now gave him goosebumps.

This time the curtain seemed to be moving, as if something lurked behind it or there was another open window hidden by it, forcing it to wave rhythmically. Only a slight sway of its lower tip in the beginning, the curtain’s moves were becoming more obvious, spreading to the rest of its fabric gradually.

Unsure if what he was watching was real or a figment of his imagination, the now utterly confused man, tried one last time to focus his gaze on the window. He needed to find a logical explanation or at least the cause of this bizarre phenomenon, so he can put it to rest.

Ideally, he wished to locate his personal items, or hopefully even a telephone, so he could ring the front desk for assistance. But instead, he was now compelled to keep watching as things were unfolding in his room. His frown forced his eyes to half close and focus further, as a colourful glaze suddenly shot through the glass.

Seemingly that ray of light was originating from the city lights outside, however his eyes were now fixed on two brighter green dots of that luminous beam. They appeared not to be an integral part of the rest of the glaze and became wider, as he was staring at them.

Soon after the ray diminished, the green spotlights remained bright for a while, as if they were staring back at the man from the dark corner of the room. He was now sitting all naked on the right edge of the bed, with a white sheet around his waist covering parts of his lower body.

His hands were grabbing the bed on either side of his hips, while his eyes were gradually opening widely. He could not feel his legs for a few moments as his heart was pounding, while a cold sweat was now running over his entire body. His anxiety was getting a better hold on him.

For an instant, the room turned dead quiet, as if someone has switched off the recorded urban noises which were coming from outside the large window. The pair of green reflective lights faded back into the thick shadows, created by the heavy curtains.

But just as it all appeared to be over, a chilling androgynous voice disrupted the brief silence.

“Doug,” it whispered.

The sound sends his brain into an overdrive of emotions, thoughts, and images. The name “Doug” suddenly made sense. Snapshots of himself started being projected by his brain in front of his eyes, which soon were followed by familiar people, memories, routines, places, and events that marked his life.

He was Doug Kelly, a 48-year-old banker from Boston. He recalled being married and having one daughter, living in a comfortable brick row house. He could briefly relive happy family moments, his workplace and colleagues, childhood recollections, the odd teenage crush or mischief, buying his first car.

While his heartbeat became faster as he was trying to process all the information his mind was downloading from his memory, a second wave of sentiments started becoming increasingly felt.

Doug knew someone else was in the room with him, he could feel another presence. He also sensed that this was not under any circumstance a reality. He was dreaming, but is this a nightmare he was having, and could he wake from it?

As soon as his mind started realizing the situation, his emotions shifted again to fear and anxiety. He was now looking towards the dark side of the room, remembering that someone just moments ago, had called him by his name.

“Do not be afraid Doug,” the same voice spoke again from the darkness.

“Who are you? Come out so I can see you,” Doug replied. The voice’s attempted reassurance was hardly successful or of any use to him.

The bright green spotlights made themselves visible again, as they moved forward. They were now edging towards the light when a pale shadowy face could finally be distinguished behind those “eyes”.

Clutching his hands even harder on the bed, Doug’s body was now tense and sweating. His eyebrows frowning, his mouth half open breathing heavily. His heart was pounding, and he was sitting uneasily at the edge of the bed.

A pale foot covered in slimy black tar, appeared from the bottom edge of where the “eyes” stood. It looked as if it belonged to someone who was walking barefoot in a bog. Soon after, a second similar foot made a step forward, coming out of the shadows. With it, it brought forward a pair of thin white hands, as the face became clearer.

It was a teardrop shaped and androgynous, insipid face with thin lips and a soul patch beard, but with strong jawline and a thin medium nose. The eyebrows were dark and arched, under which a pair of big forest green eyes, replaced the spotlights.

This face was framed by long, black hair that for the moment blended with the shadows, not revealing its true length. As Doug’s visitor moved forward, the darkness that surrounded him seem to being pulled forwards by his body, unwillingly. It stretched as far as it could before part of it, slowly started splitting itself from the rest of the shadowy font behind him.

The part that remained on the man became his clothing. Black, loose, and silky clothes were now covering his body, with long trousers and a wide sleeved long top. His chest was still uncovered, since a deep V-neck made its purpose to reveal the fluid tattoos, which were shapeshifting for a while before settling for a set of runic-styled inscriptions. His hair was now made fully visible, reaching the middle of his abdomen.

One step after another, the tall and thin “visitor” was walking closer to Doug, still with uncertain moves, shaking as if shivering and with his hands swaying, like trying to support himself on an invisible object.

From his feet the black tar was seeping into the carpet, but only temporarily leaving a footprint. As soon as he lifted his foot from the floor, the black substance was being evaporated, briefly floating in the air before it was absorbed by the entity’s clothing.


The paintings: Temptation Within in the Cover and Morpheus as Somnifaerie that accompanies the text, are Christos Mouzeviris’ creations.


Fin Elegy
Chapter 1: The Visitor. Part 1 - Part 2

Chapter 2: Fin's Theory. Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Chapter 3: About Doug. Part I - Part 2 - Part 3 

Chapter 4: Loving Doug. Part 1- Part 2 - Part 3 

Chapter 5: Jenny. Part 1 - Part 2  - Part 3



Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author

Get it off your chest
 (comments policy)

© Copyright CHAMELEON PROJECT Tmi 2005-2008  -  Sitemap  -  Add to favourites  -  Link to Ovi
Privacy Policy  -  Contact  -  RSS Feeds  -  Search  -  Submissions  -  Subscribe  -  About Ovi