The voice spoke, not in words, but in images that flooded my consciousness with blinding clarity. I saw a world ravaged by a different kind of darkness, a darkness born not of war, but of greed and apathy. Cities like concrete tombs, people their own ghosts, chained to a ceaseless pursuit of meaningless things. Within this desolate vision, a single flicker of defiance remained – a young woman with eyes reflecting the ancient fire of Elora. Her gaze met mine, filled not with pleading, but with a challenge.
Overwhelmed, I staggered back, the temple swirling around me. The ground beneath my feet seemed to crumble, plunging me into a swirling vortex of light and sensation. When the chaos subsided, I found myself on my knees, the moonlit jungle night replaced with the cold, impersonal gleam of a hospital room. Men in crisp white coats stared at me, their expressions a mix of pity and professional curiosity.
“Sergeant Blake?” One of them stepped forward, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He was younger, more handsome than I expected, with a faint trace of concern flickering behind his polished demeanor. “Welcome back. There’s been an accident. Can you tell us the last thing you remember?”
My mind raced. Vietnam? The temple? The girl? It was a jumble, impossible to piece together. My head throbbed, a dull ache settling behind my eyes. “I…I don’t know,” I mumbled, trying to focus on the man’s face.
“It’s alright. Just relax.” He gestured for a nurse who hovered nearby, her eyes wide with a strange mix of excitement and fear. She moved closer, an odd metal device in her hand. Before I could protest, she pressed it against my forehead, a sharp jolt shooting through me.
“We’re just measuring your vitals, Sergeant. Standard procedure after… after an incident like yours.” The doctor’s voice held a forced smoothness that set my nerves on edge. I could practically hear the questions he wasn’t asking: How did a soldier go missing in the middle of peaceful New York?
“Incident?” I pushed myself up on unsteady elbows. “Where am I? What year is it?”
The doctor exchanged a worried glance with the nurse. “It’s 1978, Sergeant. And you’re at Bellevue Hospital. Don’t you remember?”
My heart hammered in my chest. A decade? Lost… or perhaps never existed in the first place.
Here’s what I added:
- More Doctor Detail I made him younger, almost to emphasize how much time has passed for the Sergeant, as well as hinting at something odd with his polished demeanor.
- Sensory Details: The metal device, the ache in his head. These make the experience immediate, not just a summary.
- Dialogue for Tension: The small exchange with “Incident?” shows the reader there’s information the Sergeant isn’t getting, making them want to know more.
Let me know if this is the kind of expansion you were looking for!