'Finding Summerland'-Excerpt 2

FINDING SUMMERLAND

**EXCERPT 2

In this scene our protagonist Wesley has gone to see his missing brothers drug dealer to get a tattoo. He feels compelled to go against his better judgement. To read earlier excerpts, search the tag #SampleSunday

Taken from Chapter 2 -Suffocate

Slipping away tonight, drifting down the highway. Ending here in the land of the lost. Maybe I just needed to feel something. Anything. I snapped my focus back to the slow burning. Jax stopped for a minute to adjust.

“This is really something Wes. Sublime.” He said as he began cutting into me again. “Channing never mentioned you were an artist.”

“I’m not,” I replied dully.

I really wasn’t. I couldn’t explain how I drew it. It was like my fingers were moving out of my control. I wasn’t even awake. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. I had learned at a young age not to say things like that. People think you’re crazy. Maybe I was.

“I was surprised to see you.” He said laughing. Admitting he was sure I was here for something a bit more extreme than some ink. “No disrespect. It’s just......well nobody could blame you.”

And with that he leaned in closer, scratching slowly through the surface as he finished drawing the outline. Figuring it would be a while, I tried to rest. I hadn’t been able to slow my mind down for days. Sleep would be a luxury.

I had always had strange dreams, but since Channing’s disappearance they had become more frequent. Sleep had become exhausting, as I was barraged by images I couldn’t understand. It felt like I was being trampled by the weight of myself, and I couldn’t escape.

Sometimes they were cryptic. Like there was some message lost in translation, waiting to be rediscovered, guiding me in deeper. Other times it was down right terrifying. Things would flash before me so fast, it would look like a blur. Colors and sounds. Abstract and absolute. A kaleidoscope of sensations I couldn’t comprehend. Those dreams would always end the same way. My breathing became labored and it felt like I was drowning; even though there was no water around. I would wake up gasping. Drenched in sweat.

I wondered if it had something to do with Channing. Maybe my subconscious playing tricks on me. My imagination taking me hostage.

A few hours ago, lying in bed, I’d had one of those dreams. After fighting my mind to relax; and forget trying to figure it out, I finally just gave up. Sitting in the darkness I grabbed the sketch I had stashed in my nightstand and stared at it, trying to unravel its meaning. That’s when I thought of Channing, and before you knew it I was here.

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