Closing her eyes to shield them from the bright lights of the room, her mind collapsed while her sub-conscious took over. The fluorescent etching on the insides of her eyelids were slowly fading away into complete darkness as the icy waters that were surrounding her started to numb her senses. This was good, she thought. This was familiar. Cool, damp and dead to kinesthesis, she let her mind dive into the icy waters.
Sensation was slowly creeping back along her skin. The whales of Consciousness and Awakening were pulling her up from those depths of nothingness. They caressed her synapses into working again; coaxing them to connect, stimulate and remember. But there were images now, playing in her head. A long, seemingly endless train of pictures darting across her mind's eye. The stream of pictures suddenly change pace, moving faster, too fast for her recovering cerebrum to handle. No! Stop! Slow down! Her cries are muted by her unmoving lips. But the darkness is taking over her again. Soothing relief lulls her consciousness to slumber. This time the whales let her rest, watching her all the while as they swim across the length of the infinte river before her stretching out like Time. Their movements raise soft waves of cold liquidity that lap against her toes.
It isn't dark, but it isn't light either. Everywhere that she looked, lies a dull blue glow reminding her of twilight evenings on a rainy day. Rain. She couldn't remember the touch of rain on her skin; her nerves simply cannot connect the image of falling drops of water to its corresponding kinesthetic response. This sense of confusion and disconnected thought process was jarring. The whales were now rushing towards her, forcibly trying to push her off the laterite stone that formed her safe haven. The waters part as she frantically tries to hold on to the sides of the river. These depths were where she belonged! This was her home! She could feel her world closing in on her, The fluorescent etchings were appearing again, growing brighter, deeper. It felt like they'd burn the very irises of her eyes.
Her eyes flew open. The light in the room was unnerving, bouncing off the walls of the padded cell she was in.
'She blanked out again Dr. Johnson', spoke the nurse who was on duty that night. 'We've pulled her up way too many times. At this rate, she'll turn into a vegetable. We have to stop'.
The woman named Dr. Johnson could only stare at her patient in the padded cell. Watching her own spitting image standing unnaturally upright, swaying on the balls of her feet, wires connected to her temple and her arms trapped in a straightjacket, Dr. Johnson could only shake her head in response, her expression cold and impassive. 'No', she barks, turning around to face the nurse, she gestures with her finger for her to repeat the electrocution - a small rotation of her immaculately manicured index finger. Her twin was the only connection to the unknown world; to the world in between life and death... or maybe it was death and life. She didn't know what the images were, only that she could see them in real time as they happened to her new-found sister. Nothing was going to stop her from gaining knowledge that was as, ironically, life-changing, as that. Not even the image of herself in another human being writhing in agony. Time to leave, she thought to herself. Her heels click on the floor as she walks out of the asylum.
Wrote this for an exam :). I don't do fiction, so please tell me what you think. The good, the bad, the ugly.
Sensation was slowly creeping back along her skin. The whales of Consciousness and Awakening were pulling her up from those depths of nothingness. They caressed her synapses into working again; coaxing them to connect, stimulate and remember. But there were images now, playing in her head. A long, seemingly endless train of pictures darting across her mind's eye. The stream of pictures suddenly change pace, moving faster, too fast for her recovering cerebrum to handle. No! Stop! Slow down! Her cries are muted by her unmoving lips. But the darkness is taking over her again. Soothing relief lulls her consciousness to slumber. This time the whales let her rest, watching her all the while as they swim across the length of the infinte river before her stretching out like Time. Their movements raise soft waves of cold liquidity that lap against her toes.
It isn't dark, but it isn't light either. Everywhere that she looked, lies a dull blue glow reminding her of twilight evenings on a rainy day. Rain. She couldn't remember the touch of rain on her skin; her nerves simply cannot connect the image of falling drops of water to its corresponding kinesthetic response. This sense of confusion and disconnected thought process was jarring. The whales were now rushing towards her, forcibly trying to push her off the laterite stone that formed her safe haven. The waters part as she frantically tries to hold on to the sides of the river. These depths were where she belonged! This was her home! She could feel her world closing in on her, The fluorescent etchings were appearing again, growing brighter, deeper. It felt like they'd burn the very irises of her eyes.
Her eyes flew open. The light in the room was unnerving, bouncing off the walls of the padded cell she was in.
'She blanked out again Dr. Johnson', spoke the nurse who was on duty that night. 'We've pulled her up way too many times. At this rate, she'll turn into a vegetable. We have to stop'.
The woman named Dr. Johnson could only stare at her patient in the padded cell. Watching her own spitting image standing unnaturally upright, swaying on the balls of her feet, wires connected to her temple and her arms trapped in a straightjacket, Dr. Johnson could only shake her head in response, her expression cold and impassive. 'No', she barks, turning around to face the nurse, she gestures with her finger for her to repeat the electrocution - a small rotation of her immaculately manicured index finger. Her twin was the only connection to the unknown world; to the world in between life and death... or maybe it was death and life. She didn't know what the images were, only that she could see them in real time as they happened to her new-found sister. Nothing was going to stop her from gaining knowledge that was as, ironically, life-changing, as that. Not even the image of herself in another human being writhing in agony. Time to leave, she thought to herself. Her heels click on the floor as she walks out of the asylum.
Wrote this for an exam :). I don't do fiction, so please tell me what you think. The good, the bad, the ugly.
