The Other Side

Paul had been working at the music store for almost a full month, and it seemed to be working out fine. With Della's help, he'd discovered that the piano wasn't the only instrument he could play.

"You must have been a musician," Chris had figured out. But although this tidbit gave Paul a clue to who he was it didn't explain how he'd lost his memory.

"What sort of strange things could happen to a musician?" he wondered.

It wasn't until the full moon was high in the sky that he remembered that he was not a normal musician.

The voice he'd heard earlier was absent this time, but Paul remembered what it had said. Something about an ability with pain and not fighting it.

So when Paul was at work and he felt the stomach pains begin, he fought to hold them back only until he had reached his room and removed most of his clothes. Then he did his best to allow it to consume him.

Paul watched his hands, waiting to see the transformation there. Somehow, despite the pain, he still found it fascinating to watch. He wondered to himself if this had anything to do with his amnesia.

But the change didn't start right away like it had the last time. This time the pain in his stomach grew almost unbearable. Paul had to fight hard against his instincts to fight the pain.

After a while the pain ebbed a little and he noticed a blue glow surrounding his hands. He forgot about his pain and stared at the blue glowing appendages he held out in front of him.

'What the..,' he thought to himself. But before he could finish the thought the blue glow intensified. When it had died out, he was looking at the world from a whole new perspective.

Paul rubbed his eyes. Chris was knocking on his door and his alarm clock was going off. He groaned and turned it off, then reached for a bathrobe (since he was still nude from the night before).

Slowly he ambled to the door and opened it. To his surprise, Chris wasn't the one knocking.

Paul pulled the robe around him protectively. "Della!" he gasped, taking a step around him. "Um..I'm not late, am I?" he asked.

"No, it's only seven," Della replied, wringing her hands nervously. "Paul, I need your help. It's George. I called him but he didn't answer the phone. And he didn't answer the door. I think something might have happened."

Paul stepped back to let her in the room. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Maybe he just went out for some reason. Or he didn't feel like answering the phone or the door."

Della shook her head insistently. "No. He never goes out. And he called me last night and asked me to pick up a prescription for him and bring it buy this morning. He knew I was coming by."

"Okay, well, give me a minute to get dressed and I'll go over with you," Paul agreed. He was feeling a little self-conscious, being almost naked in front of her. Della didn't know that he wasn't wearing anything under his robe, so there was no risk, but he still felt nervous.

Della agreed to wait for him and sat down on his bed while he found himself some clean clothes. In a matter of moments he had darted into the bathroom and emerged wearing a new outfit.

Della lead the way to George's place, a small, one story, broken down little building that was obviously a bachelor's pad. Della informed Paul on the way over that he and his second wife had gotten divorce a few years ago and he'd "let the place go a little" since then.

Paul and Della walked up the front steps, Della still clutching the small paper bag with George's prescription. Della knocked on the door, and rang the bell several times but there was no answer.

"Shh," Paul whispered. "I think I hear something from inside."

Della stared at him. "I don't hear anything," she told him.

"Shh," he hissed. "It sounds like...moaning."

"Moaning? I don't hear anythin-"

"Shh," Paul repeated. "I'm trying to hear."

'Uhhhh...'

"What is it?" Della aksed, noting the shocked expression on his face.

"We've got to get in there!" Paul told her.

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