Comatose by Graham Saunders

  ~o~

  Emily slept long through the silent hours but when awake was growing stronger in her private universe. She found that the cottage no longer overwhelmed her with emotion and she was free to roam its rooms as she wished; the garden, as always was a joy to be in. She found her world both perplexing and familiar; strange but normal. Only the membrane was still opaque; obscure for her and defying her reason. She wished that she could unlock its secret and discover what it meant. Her life was now confined entirely into this small environment. There was nothing beyond the cottage except the garden and there was nothing beyond the garden but the strange membrane. Emily needed nothing more for the moment. She was like a new creature, born to this strange universe; this was all she knew, it was all she needed and all she wanted. It was hers and hers alone. From time to time, catching her unaware, there were vague thoughts, distant memories, which drifted like wind-blown thistle down unread across her mind. But nothing was able to disturb her simple contentment, except perhaps the whispering disquiet of the world beyond the membrane which sometimes called to her with a mournful beckoning and the occasional fleeting memory of a memory.