Breaking Away (The Man in the Shadows) by Erin M. Truesdale

Author:Erin M. Truesdale [Truesdale, Erin M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Published: 2013-05-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Ethan awoke not by the rank smell of mildew, deafening silence, the swirling darkness he had found himself in, or the tortured screams of Zareh, no... but by sunlight.

He sat up with a start, astonished by his locale. Skeptical, he turned his head around slowly to take it all in. Yellow sunshine greeted his frightened eyes. A soft breeze rustled the vibrant green leaves and vines that were all around him. The gentle chirp of birds peacefully glided in and out of the trees and bushes, in one ear and out the other, like a surround sound stereo system.

Touching his hands to the ground where he sat, he felt warm grass rather than the cold, slimy stone of whatever dark cell to which he had been banished. Still confused, he then brought his hands up to his face. He seemed real enough, and so did the grass, and the fresh air, and the happiness that welled up in his stomach.

A glare caught his eye off to the left, and to his surprise there on the ground next to him was his acoustic guitar. As usual, it called to him, begged to be strummed and played; a painter might have a similar feeling sitting in front of a palette full of color. Thinking this was all an elaborate trap, or some sort of holographic mirage, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Off in the distance, as if a residential neighborhood was nearby, he heard someone call, full of discontent, “Shut up!”

Amazed, he knew he was home. “Wow, nothing like an insult to welcome me back from... wherever I was...”

Getting to his feet, he stretched to his full height, lifting his hands up above his head. For some reason he felt like he had been sitting in the same position for an eternity, completely stiff, almost like tangles of dust and cobwebs were falling off of him while he moved. Quickly he felt his face again, but this time to make sure he was still 25 years old, and not suddenly 65. Sure enough, he hadn’t aged unexpectedly, rapidly.

Moving slowly towards his beckoning guitar, he noticed a movement close at hand. Not human... no. It started off in the distance, vague, unfamiliar. Working its way closer to him, like a burglar stalking in the night, it was like the entire landscape was flipping over, changing color. Now more color was bursting around him, and in that split second he realized just where he was: a rose garden. And in that very instant, every single rose in the entire vicinity bloomed synchronously, like an a crop duster had just flown over and dropped a million gallons of red and pink paint atop the lush green foliage. Shocked, awestruck, an involuntary smile appeared on his face.

“Where am I?” he asked himself out of nowhere. Peculiarly, his voice dropped off as if his head was in a bucket.

Treading lightly, reinvigorated, he reached his guitar, and a force that wasn’t quite his own took over his hands.

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