I'm... so tired. My eye lids weigh thousands of pounds, yet I can't sleep. Never. Not for a wink. Delirium and insanity dance through my brain. Hallucination dreams needle through my mind, confounding me, haunting me. I will have no peace without the pills. My body however, is beginning to reject them. Those little white cylinders. What are they anyways? Bite size doses of black magic, packaged up innocently. When the bastards get in, they burrow like moles. Eating away at my stomach lining, as I cringe before I finally find peace curled up in a sweaty ball.
The wooden floors abrade my back as I pray to some non-existent god for rapture. Please. Anything. Start a new apocalypse, a faster moving one. One with quick results. Anything to end this cursed somnambulist lifestyle.
Each day my twitch grows more erratic, and more people lend me shady eyes. I live each day as a waking spirit, haunting my own hell. Moving forward through the day only to return to my vile nest. Warily certain that this night could possibly contain some peaceful sleep-- but it won't. It never does. Not until I choke down those dopamine dispensers, and croak to a fake slumber. The wiring in my brain must be loose. There must be dust on the receptors, or gum on the components. Either way, the signals are not transmitting properly. Maybe if i could get in there, with some kind of tool. I could find peace. Peace through self surgery. At this point, anything seems like a great idea. My soul has melted to the floor, and my shadow prays me to go on. I want to go to the closet, and find a wire hanger. I want to do my great experiment. I want to find the oasis of peace at last.
But I don't. I just sit in my wretched state. Staring at the faded lacquered walls beside me. Finally it catches, another hallucination. I am awake yet asleep. Torn between two awful worlds. Unable to process data in either, I sweat and try to shriek. But all that emits from my mouth is a static electronic tone. I'm trapped. Trapped in my own mind. I finally awaken from my trance. Pools of dull maroon blood emit a thick iron smell. I can hear a dripping rhythmically coming from my ears. A bended coat hanger lies on the floor in the blood. Is this nightmare over? I stand up and immediately fall down. My world fades to white. Time to wake up and go to sleep. At last.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Into the Sky
I started at the bottom of the massive stalk
staring up toward the infinite sky,
I climbed.
My hands clung to the strangely hairy
green massive plant.
My palms were tacky enough to stick to the base.
The random offshoots of leaves
and branches
were my foot holds.
I started to notice the darkening navy sky
looking at me,
judging me,
as I scaled the massive plant.
The stars and moon were jetting by me
moving faster and faster, as I gained altitude.
They became white speckled blurs
as they melded together.
The cold nip of the breeze was starting to make my eyes water,
and numb my ears,
then my toes
and finally my fingers.
I did not stop climbing, however.
By now, I could see no background.
The stars and moon had left me.
I was now climbing into infinity.
Climbing with callused and numb hands,
toward uncertainty.
The end of the world?
Or beginning?
Who could be certain.
All I knew was that I must continue
scaling
this
prickly
green
vine.
Into the non-ending sky.
staring up toward the infinite sky,
I climbed.
My hands clung to the strangely hairy
green massive plant.
My palms were tacky enough to stick to the base.
The random offshoots of leaves
and branches
were my foot holds.
I started to notice the darkening navy sky
looking at me,
judging me,
as I scaled the massive plant.
The stars and moon were jetting by me
moving faster and faster, as I gained altitude.
They became white speckled blurs
as they melded together.
The cold nip of the breeze was starting to make my eyes water,
and numb my ears,
then my toes
and finally my fingers.
I did not stop climbing, however.
By now, I could see no background.
The stars and moon had left me.
I was now climbing into infinity.
Climbing with callused and numb hands,
toward uncertainty.
The end of the world?
Or beginning?
Who could be certain.
All I knew was that I must continue
scaling
this
prickly
green
vine.
Into the non-ending sky.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Volatile Emotion
Volatile Emotion
The blood shoots off your knuckles,
like fireworks.
Damn blood.
It flares and flies,
like a kid's birthday--
minus the clown that would be pissed
because his "magic" is undermined,
by a few desperate drunks
in an untidy bar fight.
Those creeps control the world
with random profanity.
And gap mouthed scowls.
I'll bet they'll kill each other,
with a swipe of the hand,
and a swig from the bottle.
Muscles flex with unguided aggression.
Priorities diminish like weak religions.
The world fades, as they wish for destruction.
Let me tear this fuck apart.
I'll show this bastard a lesson.
Goddamn,
the blood runs like a stupid river.
Fast and misguided.
Like the majority of cellular life,
Just searching for a purpose.
Some stupid placeholder
to keep occupied.
The moment is done.
The fat drunks gasp, wheeze, sniffle and bleed.
They are broken machines, in need of an oil change.
Their blood decorates each other,
like a Christmas sweater,
erratic and unnecessary.
They can't seem to recollect,
the purpose of the fight.
Hey, my bad, I'll buy ya a drink.
Sure thing, make it a double.
The blood shoots off your knuckles,
like fireworks.
Damn blood.
It flares and flies,
like a kid's birthday--
minus the clown that would be pissed
because his "magic" is undermined,
by a few desperate drunks
in an untidy bar fight.
Those creeps control the world
with random profanity.
And gap mouthed scowls.
I'll bet they'll kill each other,
with a swipe of the hand,
and a swig from the bottle.
Muscles flex with unguided aggression.
Priorities diminish like weak religions.
The world fades, as they wish for destruction.
Let me tear this fuck apart.
I'll show this bastard a lesson.
Goddamn,
the blood runs like a stupid river.
Fast and misguided.
Like the majority of cellular life,
Just searching for a purpose.
Some stupid placeholder
to keep occupied.
The moment is done.
The fat drunks gasp, wheeze, sniffle and bleed.
They are broken machines, in need of an oil change.
Their blood decorates each other,
like a Christmas sweater,
erratic and unnecessary.
They can't seem to recollect,
the purpose of the fight.
Hey, my bad, I'll buy ya a drink.
Sure thing, make it a double.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Petri Life
Bingo. We'd done it. We just created life in a Petri dish. Living cells constructed from inanimate matter.
I watched him from a distance, examining the dish under the microscope. His body language did not show the same excitement that his eyes did. I could tell he was positively astounded that we'd come up with results like this. I continued to watch him from across the lab, enviously noting his brilliance.
John was still, yet his hands adjusted the microscope with precision. He was truly an artist. An artist tweaking and judging his finest creation. Life.
As his lab assistant, the science behind it was way above me. All I could really grasp was assembling proteins and particles and zapping them with electrons. All of the real science must be locked in some dark corner of that man's brain. It must be a labyrinthian prison of knowledge. I continued to study his face from across the lab. The surgical white light created a halo over his head. He finally collected his pipette and added an amber dye to the dish. I decided that now would be a good time to break the silence, and approach the master.
My steps echoed off the polished lab floor. Still he did not look up from his microscope. The stage of the microscope must be a divine symphony for him, and he, the conductor. It held his complete focus. He was now making detailed scribbles on his yellow note pad. My steps still did not perturb him. I was right next to him.
" John."
" Yes, Nick? "
" Just wondering how the research is going. I can't believe we've actually created life."
"Indeed. It is rather interesting."
The words stopped for an awkward moment. I could see his wrinkled face was still deep in thought about the Petri dish.
"So."
"When do we go public with this?”
His face turned beet red. He looked up irately from his microscope.
"No"
"It is entirely too soon to even consider such a feeble thought."
His breathing was heavy. He was clearly taken back by such a comment. I apologized and backed away like a shamed puppy.
I walked back to my desk, and pretended to be busy with paperwork, yet I continued to study the scientist from afar. He was tinkering and testing to no end. I could see years of dedication carved into his face. His hands did not shake. He was born to do this.
It was now 2:30 in the morning. My eyes were craving sleep. However, as I looked over at the scientist, he was still alert, active. Prodding and noting. I decided to go over and seek permission to leave.
My steps sounded like a marching band. I tried to muffle them, but it wouldn't be done. John looked up and watched me as I approached.
"I'm exhausted, can I go home and get some sleep?"
"Ah yes. It is getting late. Probably a good time to call it a day. Good work today Nicolas.”
I took that as permission to leave. I knew that he would continue to work through the night however. He was a man committed to his craft. I left the laboratory and headed home.
As my head hit the pillow, I expected to be asleep. My body would not have it. I could not stop thinking about the discovery. All I could see in my mind was John, busy at work, unrelenting. I had sleep hallucinations about him shooting electricity from his fingers into the Petri dish. Nurturing cells to life, like some robotic grandfather.
Finally my alarm went off, and I headed back to the laboratory in a rush. Today could be another breakthrough day. I pushed open the lab door and expected to see the doctor still busy at work from last night. He was strangely absent. Likely he was out getting coffee. I went back to the incubator to look at the Petri dish. It was absent. Strange. Perhaps it was being handled somewhere else. I headed to the main workstation and noticed that John’s logbook was placed cover up, quite orderly. It was left in such a way that I knew he wanted me to see something. I opened the thick journal. All of the pages were blank, the data gone. I noticed a slip of paper that had fallen out. All it said was, " The world is not ready".
I watched him from a distance, examining the dish under the microscope. His body language did not show the same excitement that his eyes did. I could tell he was positively astounded that we'd come up with results like this. I continued to watch him from across the lab, enviously noting his brilliance.
John was still, yet his hands adjusted the microscope with precision. He was truly an artist. An artist tweaking and judging his finest creation. Life.
As his lab assistant, the science behind it was way above me. All I could really grasp was assembling proteins and particles and zapping them with electrons. All of the real science must be locked in some dark corner of that man's brain. It must be a labyrinthian prison of knowledge. I continued to study his face from across the lab. The surgical white light created a halo over his head. He finally collected his pipette and added an amber dye to the dish. I decided that now would be a good time to break the silence, and approach the master.
My steps echoed off the polished lab floor. Still he did not look up from his microscope. The stage of the microscope must be a divine symphony for him, and he, the conductor. It held his complete focus. He was now making detailed scribbles on his yellow note pad. My steps still did not perturb him. I was right next to him.
" John."
" Yes, Nick? "
" Just wondering how the research is going. I can't believe we've actually created life."
"Indeed. It is rather interesting."
The words stopped for an awkward moment. I could see his wrinkled face was still deep in thought about the Petri dish.
"So."
"When do we go public with this?”
His face turned beet red. He looked up irately from his microscope.
"No"
"It is entirely too soon to even consider such a feeble thought."
His breathing was heavy. He was clearly taken back by such a comment. I apologized and backed away like a shamed puppy.
I walked back to my desk, and pretended to be busy with paperwork, yet I continued to study the scientist from afar. He was tinkering and testing to no end. I could see years of dedication carved into his face. His hands did not shake. He was born to do this.
It was now 2:30 in the morning. My eyes were craving sleep. However, as I looked over at the scientist, he was still alert, active. Prodding and noting. I decided to go over and seek permission to leave.
My steps sounded like a marching band. I tried to muffle them, but it wouldn't be done. John looked up and watched me as I approached.
"I'm exhausted, can I go home and get some sleep?"
"Ah yes. It is getting late. Probably a good time to call it a day. Good work today Nicolas.”
I took that as permission to leave. I knew that he would continue to work through the night however. He was a man committed to his craft. I left the laboratory and headed home.
As my head hit the pillow, I expected to be asleep. My body would not have it. I could not stop thinking about the discovery. All I could see in my mind was John, busy at work, unrelenting. I had sleep hallucinations about him shooting electricity from his fingers into the Petri dish. Nurturing cells to life, like some robotic grandfather.
Finally my alarm went off, and I headed back to the laboratory in a rush. Today could be another breakthrough day. I pushed open the lab door and expected to see the doctor still busy at work from last night. He was strangely absent. Likely he was out getting coffee. I went back to the incubator to look at the Petri dish. It was absent. Strange. Perhaps it was being handled somewhere else. I headed to the main workstation and noticed that John’s logbook was placed cover up, quite orderly. It was left in such a way that I knew he wanted me to see something. I opened the thick journal. All of the pages were blank, the data gone. I noticed a slip of paper that had fallen out. All it said was, " The world is not ready".
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
It's a Mighty Long Road
Huffin' and puffin'
Sputterin’ and Churnin’
down the historic road.
Passing cactuses,
signs,
and little else.
Flying
through the scorched desert at 106.
Red sun blazing in the rearview.
' Hold on buddy '
I say to her.
I know she'll listen.
That shit spewing
oil bleeding engine of the 90's
busting her ass
to drive us home
across a continent.
From the sun dipped southwest
to the heart of snowman country.
33 hours in a steel machine.
Pushing forward,
fighting delirium
as rest stops
and sketchy gas stations
meld together.
Forming a hollow shell
of depressed outskirt living.
Miles mounting miles of dry asphalt stretch forever.
The bleeding white lines interlace
like neon pulsating lights.
Trying to persuade you into sleep.
But you can’t.
Sun sets.
Sun rises.
Sun sets again.
Too much time behind a sweaty wheel
with little sleep and less sanity.
‘God those mountains look good.’
I mutter
as we continue through
the winding West Virginian mountains.
Speeding through snow capped hills
like it's my calling.
Each sharp turn could take our lives,
but at 80 I grin
like a child
as I round each one
laughing like a lunatic
while my friend holds on
for dear life.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Stuck
I am stuck
In this crusty white T-shirt.
The seams are
worn,
stretched and brown.
I can draw a road map
on stains from
years ago.
This collar is ragged
stretched like a taffy
of a warm childhood memory.
It still fits
somehow.
Nestled to my shapely body.
Showing me warmth
while the seasons wither away.
My bodily protector will outlast
all of the world's nations.
This slab of fabric will prevail,
coupling me in its sleeves of plush.
But it is just a T-shirt.
Some ragged piece of cloth--
A smelly flag of futility--
A covering
so tattered and worn.
Keeping me very
lukewarm.
In this crusty white T-shirt.
The seams are
worn,
stretched and brown.
I can draw a road map
on stains from
years ago.
This collar is ragged
stretched like a taffy
of a warm childhood memory.
It still fits
somehow.
Nestled to my shapely body.
Showing me warmth
while the seasons wither away.
My bodily protector will outlast
all of the world's nations.
This slab of fabric will prevail,
coupling me in its sleeves of plush.
But it is just a T-shirt.
Some ragged piece of cloth--
A smelly flag of futility--
A covering
so tattered and worn.
Keeping me very
lukewarm.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Patient 86
So I finally awoke in a strange sweaty bed that wasn't mine. The room was foreign as well. Where the hell was I? A lone clock on the wall said 6:30. That was all it said. 6:30 in the morning. Maybe. There were no damn windows in this hole. Even if there were, how would I have known if it was dawn or dusk? The seasons acted so strange lately. I sat up and noticed I was wearing a hospital wristband that was speckled with maroon blood. Was this a hospital room? It sure didn't look like one. There was only a single light illuminating this place. A flickering dated 60-watt bulb, I presumed. My eyes slowly but surely adjusted to the low light. I continually wondered if it was night or day. My next order of business should be finding an exit, so I can determine my location and the time of day, and more importantly, why the hell I am here. I stayed in that stiff bed, and tried to think, but couldn’t. My eyes darted like lizards. I needed a way out.
On the east side of the room I noticed there was an opening in the cinderblock wall. From the bed I stared intensely. I was about to get up when I realized I was nude except for the hospital bracelet. Interesting, I pondered. I finally got out of the bed and immediately fell to the ground. My leg felt as if it were broken. I inspected it as my naked body lay on the cold cement floor. My ankle was swollen like a balloon. There were strips of red that surrounded the inflammation. Damn, it must be sprained. Well. At least it isn't broken.
I looked toward the opening. I would have to limp my way to freedom. God I wish I had some clothes. If anyone were to see me, they would fear insanity. I finally pushed myself up and stood with most of my weight on my right leg, the good one. I looked ahead and limped slowly out of this makeshift prison.
Before I left, I looked at the clock on the wall again. It still said 6:30. It must be broken. Still I could not distinguish day or night. I needed to keep going forward.
I crept through the opening silently, using my arms to keep the weight off my useless foot. I followed a dark corridor down a bit and noticed a legitimate door at the end. I made my way to it and tried the handle. Locked. Perfect. I jangled the door several times to no avail. There was no window on the door, nor was there light coming through the bottom crack. Famished and annoyed I limped back to the bed and collapsed.
I stared at the light in the ceiling and thought about my life. What was my life like? I couldn't remember any details. I wonder where those memories went? I turned to my side and wrapped my cold naked body in the white sheet on the bed and dozed off.
I came to, naked, confused, and scared. I sat up and looked around. Same room, same lousy light. My eyes gazed back at the clock. 8:30 it said. How can that be? I thought it was broken. What's it matter anyways? I still couldn't figure out if it were night or day. I inspected my wristband further. All that it said was "Patient 86", and beside it was a smattering of blood. My own blood, I assumed. I decided to get up once more and check that strange door. I pushed off of the bed and limped forward like before. I rounded the corner skillfully and made it to the door once more. I noticed a thin beam of light shooting under the crack of the door. I gasped at the sight. I hit the deck and tried to look under the door. The crack was too small to distinguish anything. I was not even sure if it was sunlight or artificial light. Still no answer to my burning question. Blinded by the excitement of the light I almost forgot to check the lock. I got up, sweating, and tried the handle. Still locked, and it would not budge. I exhaled with frustration, and limped back to the main room. I sat down at the edge of the bed, noticing again that the clock seemed to be stuck. This time it was affixed to 8:30. How strange. I got up and hobbled to the clock on the wall. I picked at it, but it was securely fastened. My head was beginning to throb and pound. Which is strange because I never got headaches, or did I? I couldn’t remember. I went back into the bed and once more fell asleep.
I can recall this strange dream I had. I was sitting under a tree in the yard when it began to lightly rain. I stayed under that tree for a long time. Soon it started pouring and I walked toward my house. The door was opened and my mother was yelling for me to come in. “Stephen, Stephen come in you’ll catch cold! “ Then she started yelling “ Oh Thomas, Thomas it;s freezing out come inside now!” I just stared at her, in the cold rain. I did not advance any closer. I sat down, on the drenched grass, and just stared at her. Then the dream ended, and I awoke all sweaty and sad. What a bad dream. I was now sure of one thing. My name was either Stephen or Thomas. Maybe. Or maybe it was something totally different. Dreams have a strange way of screwing with your mind.
I was back in this weird place, back to reality. A reality that seemed all too real or fake. I decided to check the door again, though I seriously doubted it would be open. I looked toward the wall with the clock but couldn’t make out what it said. It was very blurry. My eyesight had deteriorated quite heavily during that last sleep. How perplexing. Now more than ever I was yearning for some answers. I got up, the same way I had before, and limped forward. This time I walked to the wall where the clock was. It slowly came into focus, as I was about 2 feet away from it. The clock read 7:30. Nothing new, still confused, I made my way down the hall once more, this time quite disillusioned. I came upon the door and checked for the light. It was gone. I tried the handle. Locked, as usual. I sat down and began to tear up. What was going on in this world?
Suddenly the door burst open. I gasped and looked up. All I saw was this blurry man in what appeared to be a white lab coat. He stood tall and powerful. He approached me and then he spoke. “Ah patient 86 is awake”. He scribbled down something in his clipboard.
“Who… are you? Who am I? What’s going on!
That was all I could muster up. The tall blurry man just chuckled.
“You are patient 86 my friend, now lets get you back to your bed.” He bent down and picked me up and guided me back to the room.
“Wh.. Wh.. what’s going on?” I was sobbing, but still I walked. I had no energy to resist. We were back in the room and he made sure I lay back down in the bed.
“Now you sleep tight, patient 86.”
Right before he left he injected my arm with a needle. I tried to scream but no noise came out. I was immediately out cold.
When I finally awoke I was completely blind. I could see nothing. It was a horrifying feeling. At first in my delirious state I thought that my eyes were closed, or that the sheet was over my head. It wasn’t. I slowly came to realize that this horrible nightmare was getting worse. I cried for a spell, before slamming my head on the bed several times. Then I just laid with impunity for what seemed like a decade. I tried to fall back asleep but couldn’t. I shuffled around the bed with anxiety before jumping up off the bed. As I hit the ground my ankle cracked and I went down. Shit, forgot that it was sprained. I yelled in anger for about 3 minutes.
After my yelling episode I just sat on the cold floor. Suddenly a voice sounded.” It is now 9:30.” It was a soft woman’s voice coming from the ceiling. This infuriated me further. Was it 9:30 AM or PM? I punched the bed with futility. I finally collected myself and stood up, and felt around the walls. I would try this damn door one last time. With my hands I guided my way to the opening. As I turned the corner, my eyes showed signs of life. I saw a strip of light coming from where the bottom of the door was. Maybe I wasn’t blind after all. The light must have just gone out. How strange. It must have been absolute darkness in that other room, I could not even see my hands below me. With a hint of excitement I crept closer and closer to the door. I was right before it. I held my breath for a while, and reached for the knob. Click. It opened. I slid the door open very slowly and light poured all around me. My eyes took awhile to adjust to the light, but at last I could see. The door lead outside. Right in front of me was grass. Beautiful green grass. I looked further and could see trees rustling in the wind. Most importantly I could see the sun. It was daytime.
On the east side of the room I noticed there was an opening in the cinderblock wall. From the bed I stared intensely. I was about to get up when I realized I was nude except for the hospital bracelet. Interesting, I pondered. I finally got out of the bed and immediately fell to the ground. My leg felt as if it were broken. I inspected it as my naked body lay on the cold cement floor. My ankle was swollen like a balloon. There were strips of red that surrounded the inflammation. Damn, it must be sprained. Well. At least it isn't broken.
I looked toward the opening. I would have to limp my way to freedom. God I wish I had some clothes. If anyone were to see me, they would fear insanity. I finally pushed myself up and stood with most of my weight on my right leg, the good one. I looked ahead and limped slowly out of this makeshift prison.
Before I left, I looked at the clock on the wall again. It still said 6:30. It must be broken. Still I could not distinguish day or night. I needed to keep going forward.
I crept through the opening silently, using my arms to keep the weight off my useless foot. I followed a dark corridor down a bit and noticed a legitimate door at the end. I made my way to it and tried the handle. Locked. Perfect. I jangled the door several times to no avail. There was no window on the door, nor was there light coming through the bottom crack. Famished and annoyed I limped back to the bed and collapsed.
I stared at the light in the ceiling and thought about my life. What was my life like? I couldn't remember any details. I wonder where those memories went? I turned to my side and wrapped my cold naked body in the white sheet on the bed and dozed off.
I came to, naked, confused, and scared. I sat up and looked around. Same room, same lousy light. My eyes gazed back at the clock. 8:30 it said. How can that be? I thought it was broken. What's it matter anyways? I still couldn't figure out if it were night or day. I inspected my wristband further. All that it said was "Patient 86", and beside it was a smattering of blood. My own blood, I assumed. I decided to get up once more and check that strange door. I pushed off of the bed and limped forward like before. I rounded the corner skillfully and made it to the door once more. I noticed a thin beam of light shooting under the crack of the door. I gasped at the sight. I hit the deck and tried to look under the door. The crack was too small to distinguish anything. I was not even sure if it was sunlight or artificial light. Still no answer to my burning question. Blinded by the excitement of the light I almost forgot to check the lock. I got up, sweating, and tried the handle. Still locked, and it would not budge. I exhaled with frustration, and limped back to the main room. I sat down at the edge of the bed, noticing again that the clock seemed to be stuck. This time it was affixed to 8:30. How strange. I got up and hobbled to the clock on the wall. I picked at it, but it was securely fastened. My head was beginning to throb and pound. Which is strange because I never got headaches, or did I? I couldn’t remember. I went back into the bed and once more fell asleep.
I can recall this strange dream I had. I was sitting under a tree in the yard when it began to lightly rain. I stayed under that tree for a long time. Soon it started pouring and I walked toward my house. The door was opened and my mother was yelling for me to come in. “Stephen, Stephen come in you’ll catch cold! “ Then she started yelling “ Oh Thomas, Thomas it;s freezing out come inside now!” I just stared at her, in the cold rain. I did not advance any closer. I sat down, on the drenched grass, and just stared at her. Then the dream ended, and I awoke all sweaty and sad. What a bad dream. I was now sure of one thing. My name was either Stephen or Thomas. Maybe. Or maybe it was something totally different. Dreams have a strange way of screwing with your mind.
I was back in this weird place, back to reality. A reality that seemed all too real or fake. I decided to check the door again, though I seriously doubted it would be open. I looked toward the wall with the clock but couldn’t make out what it said. It was very blurry. My eyesight had deteriorated quite heavily during that last sleep. How perplexing. Now more than ever I was yearning for some answers. I got up, the same way I had before, and limped forward. This time I walked to the wall where the clock was. It slowly came into focus, as I was about 2 feet away from it. The clock read 7:30. Nothing new, still confused, I made my way down the hall once more, this time quite disillusioned. I came upon the door and checked for the light. It was gone. I tried the handle. Locked, as usual. I sat down and began to tear up. What was going on in this world?
Suddenly the door burst open. I gasped and looked up. All I saw was this blurry man in what appeared to be a white lab coat. He stood tall and powerful. He approached me and then he spoke. “Ah patient 86 is awake”. He scribbled down something in his clipboard.
“Who… are you? Who am I? What’s going on!
That was all I could muster up. The tall blurry man just chuckled.
“You are patient 86 my friend, now lets get you back to your bed.” He bent down and picked me up and guided me back to the room.
“Wh.. Wh.. what’s going on?” I was sobbing, but still I walked. I had no energy to resist. We were back in the room and he made sure I lay back down in the bed.
“Now you sleep tight, patient 86.”
Right before he left he injected my arm with a needle. I tried to scream but no noise came out. I was immediately out cold.
When I finally awoke I was completely blind. I could see nothing. It was a horrifying feeling. At first in my delirious state I thought that my eyes were closed, or that the sheet was over my head. It wasn’t. I slowly came to realize that this horrible nightmare was getting worse. I cried for a spell, before slamming my head on the bed several times. Then I just laid with impunity for what seemed like a decade. I tried to fall back asleep but couldn’t. I shuffled around the bed with anxiety before jumping up off the bed. As I hit the ground my ankle cracked and I went down. Shit, forgot that it was sprained. I yelled in anger for about 3 minutes.
After my yelling episode I just sat on the cold floor. Suddenly a voice sounded.” It is now 9:30.” It was a soft woman’s voice coming from the ceiling. This infuriated me further. Was it 9:30 AM or PM? I punched the bed with futility. I finally collected myself and stood up, and felt around the walls. I would try this damn door one last time. With my hands I guided my way to the opening. As I turned the corner, my eyes showed signs of life. I saw a strip of light coming from where the bottom of the door was. Maybe I wasn’t blind after all. The light must have just gone out. How strange. It must have been absolute darkness in that other room, I could not even see my hands below me. With a hint of excitement I crept closer and closer to the door. I was right before it. I held my breath for a while, and reached for the knob. Click. It opened. I slid the door open very slowly and light poured all around me. My eyes took awhile to adjust to the light, but at last I could see. The door lead outside. Right in front of me was grass. Beautiful green grass. I looked further and could see trees rustling in the wind. Most importantly I could see the sun. It was daytime.
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