Trying to Remember

by Amelia

Main Character: Buck

It was hard to breathe, he couldn't see. He tried to use his sense of hearing, it was nerve shattering to find complete silence. Nothing, not even a faint whisper of sound.

Were his eyes closed? Maybe if he opened them he would be able to see something and he wouldn't feel so off balanced by the dark nothingness.

Trying hard he found he couldn't move his hand at all, it didn't feel bound by anything, he just couldn't move it, why?

Had he had a car accident? Had he fallen off his horse? Did a bust go bad?

As the thoughts swam in his mind, he tried to think, what was the last thing he remembered

He had gone out to Chris's to help him clean out the tack room and barn. He remembered arriving and Chris saying that it was so late in the evening, that they should wait and get a fresh start early in the morning since it was Saturday

OK, so he remembered agreeing and remembered they had spent the evening sitting out on the deck with a good bottle of 25 year old scotch.

Pausing and focusing, he searched his mind, yet he couldn't remember anything after that.

Panic began to gather in his chest, 'Were they attacked? Where was Chris? Did something happen to him?'

His heart began beating faster, when suddenly another memory finally surfaced. They had started on the tack room of the barn just after sun rise and hauled everything out into the yard from the room.

OK, so we weren't attacked, just too drunk to remember going to bed. But where am I now? What happened?

Feeling the cold damp penetrating his body through his foggy thoughts, he realized he was on the ground or something like it. Oh God was he dead!!

No, no he was alive, he had to be how else could he be thinking and feeling the cold. Unless this was what death was like, your thoughts working but trapped without movement. No. No he was alive, he had heard Josiah preach enough about heaven and death..No he was alive.

Again straining his hearing, for a moment he thought he caught a sound, but just as quickly as he thought he had, it vanished, leaving him unsure if there had really been anything.

What had happened after they had cleaned the tack room? Did they finish the job? Did they get around to cleaning out the barn as well? Why couldn't he remember?

Frustration, fighting with bits of fear, fought within him as he struggled with his whirling mind.

OK, stop, take stock of everything. Body first. Can't move, Can't see, But I don't feel like anything is broken nor am I in pain.

Pain, the word leaped up into his mind. Had he felt or been in pain? Yes. Yes, he remembered he had been in pain. His head had exploded. He remembered...

The sound of footsteps coming downstairs, had him turning his head toward it.

"Hey, Bucklin, how ya feeling? Told ya rolling ya up tight like a mummy in that quilt and putting on that blind fold would help. And Larabee's basement being so cold and quiet would be the best thing for that migraine you got earlier. So, you feeling better? Ready to come back up and join the rest of us living souls?" Vin softly asked as he knelt down by his friend, who had had a migraine hit him so hard and fast that Chris and he had brought him down here when Buck couldn't even stand to breathe from the pain light and sound had caused. They had rolled him up tight in the old thick quilt, so tight his arms and legs couldn't move and had slipped the blindfold on over his eyes right after Chris had given him that strong muscle relaxer.

Relieved now that he remebered...

The End

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