He wanted to nestle in the snug, cocoon of floating senselessness, the insistent voice wouldn’t let him be.
It kept pulling at him; nudging him back from sinking into the deep abyss which beckoned with it’s twinkle of light that beamed at the end.
The nagging voice grew stronger and stronger and his unconscious state was reluctantly dragged to the fore.
His struggle to rise was weighed down by heaviness. Beeps of machines, his mothers anxious voice and the drone of uniformed voices brought it all rushing back.
He remembered. That single minute of distraction checking his tweets; the tumultuous collision, rushing pain and weightlessness.
He remembered floating through the sea of pain, the sweet calming voice of the fair lady who came to his rescue and cradled his head.
He wondered why one of the Saints his mother honoured daily had cradled his head?
He stopped believing those things for a long time, but humored his mother when she dragged him along.
Now he didn’t know what to believe. All he knew was that somehow, she had saved him.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
In response to the FFfAW photo prompt above. Thank you Sonya and Priceless Joy for this challenge platform.