he was strapped to the bed, yet he could feel nothing. he was intensely shivering, yet the radiator was scorching. he could see nothing, but the moon was glowing.

his throat went dry; his eyes became a waterfall. he could smell the outside air; he could feel the inside furniture. but he could hear nothing.

worm-like fingers crawled across his jawline, a pair of haunting eyes staring straight back at him. he could feel the fear flowing through his body and leaving the hollow feeling to resign in his stomach.

but then, he could hear his mother's voice.

~☆~

flash fiction: an extremely short piece of fiction, usually with the ability to hint or imply a larger story. the theories of background, events later on, and events before are left down to the reader's imagination.

[i wrote this in english on friday and it's actually really fun! everyone else was dancing to beyoncé after a fire drill interrupted the lesson, and i was sitting there finishing this. the teacher loved it though!]