Fiction
The Currentby Dan J. Fiore
Spinning — above him the ceiling fan, around him the living room. Dad’s living room. In the house where they all used to live.
Shawn’s head throbs with pressure, thoughts swimming as if trapped below the murky current of a river. His pudgy stomach rumbles and twists.
Tugboat.
Sitting up, he notices the room shifting and rocking around him. His heartbeat taps, taps, taps at a spot on his head as if to say, Hmmmm there’s certainly something not quite right right here. He raises his hand, touches it. A shapeless pain drives deeper, digging through the bone of his skull to the soft stuff below. His eyes water and his fingers come back from his long blonde hair red.
He can’t look straight at anything. The light blurs. Everything’s drifting. Warping.
Voi
