Descending Road - SHRIVELED TO NOTHING by Dana W. Paxson

SHRIVELED TO NOTHING

1562 4D

He woke, lying helpless.

“So you hear music?” Arlen‘s voice close in his ear.

“I — yes. I heard music. Days ago.” His own voice, rasping, dull.

“Not now?”

“No. It went away.” It had faded, and did not return. The desolation of its absence became a pit of darkness.

A long time of torture began; Andrew had no more mind. Memories and visions and nightmares came and went freely, as if he were a patch of soil in the midst of a busy road. Occasionally a thought strayed in, a name, say, Leil‘s; he would regard it curiously, inertly, until it faded. Time departed, light vanished, and he lay impaled on a jagged outcrop of agony. While his body, renewed somehow during each brief rest, cycled through each ordeal, his existence shriveled to nothing. Everything stopped. In a stupefied haze, lying near death, Andrew heard Arlen‘s voice near him.

“Oh, and have the torch team contact me. I’ve got a job for them. But it won’t be for a while yet — it’s just planning time.”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	SHRIVELED TO NOTHING 1562 4D He woke, lying helpless. “So you hear music?” Arlen‘s voice close in his ear. “I — yes. I heard music. Days ago.” His own voice, rasping, dull. “Not now?” “No. It went away.” It had faded, and did not return. The desolation of its absence became a pit of darkness. A long time of torture began; Andrew had no more mind. Memories and visions and nightmares came and went freely, as if he were a patch of soil in the midst of a busy road. Occasionally a thought strayed in, a name, say, Leil‘s; he would regard it curiously, inertly, until it faded. Time departed, light vanished, and he lay impaled on a jagged outcrop of agony. While his body, renewed somehow during each brief rest, cycled through each ordeal, his existence shriveled to nothing. Everything stopped. In a stupefied haze, lying near death, Andrew heard Arlen‘s voice near him. “Oh, and have the torch team contact me. I’ve got a job for them. But it won’t be for a while yet — it’s just planning time.”