Chapter 1

I lay immobile in the hospital bed. The room was as still as a tomb. I could not even move my eyes. Occasionally a nurse or doctor would come in and check on me. This was the only interruption in my routine.

Sleep. I float in a drug-induced haze. All around me are clouds of pastel hues. I can tell I am still in bed, but somehow I am separated from my body. Slowly the clouds fade away and I am standing in my hospital room, next to my bed. I can see myself lying there. Tubes run into my nose, mouth, and arms. Another tube runs under the blanket, a catheter. My body is covered with bruises and my head is wrapped in gauze. A cast covers my left arm; another encases my lower body and my legs.

What happened to me? What kind of accident had I been in? I didn't remember anything. The last thing I could remember was... Oh shit. I couldn't remember anything. Wait... a car... I remember a blue Mustang. Had I been in a car wreck? Okay, that was enough useless speculation. I would have to find out what was going on. I went to the door and looked out. It must be late at night, I thought. The lights were all dimmed. A pool of illumination spilled into the hall further down. I walked toward it. A single nurse sat at her station, writing something. I walked up and set my hands on the counter, 'Excuse me.'

She did not acknowledge me at all. She just kept writing, her bright red hair almost glowing in the dim light. I waited, thinking she was thinking I would go away. I cleared my throat. She still did not look up. She set her pen down and it rolled off the desk with a clatter. The noise made me realize I had not made a sound. I tried again to get her attention, but it was no good, my voice was gone.

Shit! I am a ghost.

I fell to the ground and wept. I realized I had not fallen through the floor. Maybe I was not a ghost. I stood up and turned to the nurse again. She was knelt over adjusting her stocking. Her skirt was pulled up all the way to the top of her thighs. What beautiful legs.

I wondered if I could do anything. I walked around the desk as she sat back down. I reached out and touched her hair. She waved her hand like she was shooing away a bug. Wow! I could do something here, but I did not want to scare her. I reached for her pen, thinking I could make her bend over or something. My hand passed right through the desk. I tried again. No luck.

With a little experimentation I figured out I could touch her, and she would feel it, but anything else was off limits, at least anything else right there. I had touched her leg and she had scratched it like she had an itch. By this time I was crouched under the desk staring up her skirt, daring my self to touch her somewhere more intimate. I was trying to decide how to proceed, when her legs suddenly fell farther apart. I looked up and discovered she was sleeping!

Should I try to caress her in her sleep, she would probably just wake up thinking there was a bug up her skirt. I got out from under her desk and stood. She looked so pretty in her sleep. Her nametag read Jean Morris, R.N. I read just now.

I touched her cheek, thinking of saying good bye to Jean. A bizarre sensation ran up my arm, almost like I was being sucked through the palm of my hand.