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Freewriting based on characters I created.
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The darkness is unsettling… It’s a place where only thought remains. There is the sensation of where the body should be, but its just not there. Looking down to where your chest should be reveals nothing, and your perspective on the environment has not changed either. The same small pinprick of light is still off in the distance, the only bit of illumination. But is it a light at all… what exactly is it off in the distance?

All that remains in the darkness is the cold, lose ghosting grip from the handshake from… the other day? The past week? There is no time in the darkness. There is only yourself with your thoughts. Your let alone to wonder about your existence.

Then, suddenly out of the pinprick comes something. It’s nothing visible, audible or to be felt by any of the senses. It is a mental impression of an emotion. First there is an indifferent ‘hello’ of sorts and then silence as it waits for a reply. If the hello isn’t replied to in an orderly manner the cold ‘hello’ is felt again. Once the greetings are out of the way the pinprick of light quickly follows up with a bunch of questions about health, systems and other things that comes too fast for me to fully comprehend, but it apparently gets answers because it doesn’t repeat itself.

The odd part is the more the light sends the messages, the larger it becomes. If the light keeps sending messages… images start to appear in the light. There are colors moving quickly all around. Some of them come closer and inspect my glare while others seem to bump into each other handing off other fuzzy colors.
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“Well, Cassandra,” Dr. Roch cooed looking over his handwritten notes. The man was a nut for keeping his files in hard copy as well as in his computer. He loved the tactile feeling of having a piece of paper on hand and rolling a ball point pen over it to make notes. There was something he considered endearing to it and wouldn’t, for the life of him, save the time of just inputting his notes directly into the computer and printing them off. This meant something to him, and he would not sacrifice a little joy for saving some time in the long run. “In the past week we’ve discussed your feelings on what you call, ‘the darkness’. This week, I want to talk to you about your dreams.”

Cassandra squirmed in her chair. The leather cracked, squeaked and pulled as she shifted her weight in the overly sized and comfortable chair. It had to be the most comfortable chair she had ever the pleasure to sit in, well, if she could remember more than the last few weeks that is. “Okay.” She responded uneasily. Her voice even made her stand back from herself. It was like she was discovering everything about herself all over again lately.

Dr. Roch droned on for a bit about what he wanted to know about Cassandra’s dreams, but she turned and looked at her wheelchair. There were two male nurses that got her in and out of that chair. She lived a life of perpetual atrophy. Everyday was physical and occupational therapy for at least three weeks now. It felt like minimal changes had happened since she ‘woke up’ as everyone called it. It was depressing.

“Cassandra?” Dr. Roch interrupted her thought, “are you listening?” He wasn’t even looking at her, he was too busy rolling his ballpoint all over the pad of paper on his lap. After he filled up the small space he had left on that sheet he flipped the page and looked up at the woman in front of him. “can we talk about your dreams?”

Sighing, Cassandra leaned back into her chair and looked at the window behind Roch that had thin shades covering them. The sun was setting and it was pounding the window with brilliant light, silhouetting the Dr. in front of her. “I seem to dream about a… train. A lot.”
Roch whipped his pen across the fresh sheet of paper quickly, “mmm hmmm…”

“All I remember is the feeling of contentment, and then a sudden and jarring halt.” I usually wake up in a sweat.

“mmm hmmm…” Roch nodded, taking no notes immediately this time, but sticking the end of his grossly expensive looking pen into the side of his mouth. “Where are you going?”

Cassandra looked down to her feet that basically dangled, slightly touching the floor. She asked on of the nurses to take off her slippers because she liked the feeling of the carpet in Dr. Roch’s office on her toes. She tried to move them back and forth to enjoy the soft carpet, but her legs wouldn’t exactly budge to her desire. She Shot her eyes away from her feet in disappointment, “I don’t remember.” She answered.

“Maybe… you have something inside of you telling you that you were content at one time, but something has upset that contentment?” Roch suggested as he scribbed more notes.

Cassandra huffed a sigh, “Sure, why not?”

“You’re obviously upset about your physical development.” Roch assessed raising an eyebrow and looking directly at Cassandra.

Annoyed at his supposed look into her psyche, Cassandra looked away from his glance. She couldn’t make eye contact with someone who was paid to tell her the inner workings of her mind, but kept telling her things she already knew. It was like giving someone pieces to a puzzle, and seeing them be excited to get a little bit of the picture and sharing it with you, but you have the full picture in front of you so the excitement is definitely lacking. It doesn’t matter if you have that picture in your head at all times or not, it’s just not impressive at all.

Then, there was a flash inside of her, “Apparently, it takes a doctorial degree for a man to recognize when a girl is upset.” Pushed her self to the right side of the chair and propped her head against her fisted hand.

Dr. Roch sat still for a second, dropping his pen. After hearing the sound of his expensive pen hit the floor he scrambled to find another to write some notes. As he wrote the notes he stood up and walked over to Cassandra. She looked up at him annoyed, but curious. He leaned slightly over and pulled her hand out from under Cassandra’s cheek. “You moved your arm…” He said wide eyed and impressed.

Cassandra looked at her arm in his hand. Her limbs still felt foreign to her, like implants that weren’t aligned properly with her core body. Yet, she felt the physical attachment to the arm. There were muscles pulling and loosening, tendons moving and bones keeping everything in line. It was an odd awareness to feel all of it there and in apparent good working order, yet not responding. Then, she looked up to Dr. Roch, “I don’t remember moving it…”

Dr. Roch smiled, “But you did.” Cassandra just stared at her arm, which had once again gone limp, and back to Roch. “Aren’t you excited?”

Cassandra tightened her mouth. Her teeth crushed in on each other, placing themselves into perfect alignment, and compressed to an incredible level. “I know my arms and legs worked at one time. I’m no child. I had use of my limbs! I feel that inside.” She shut her eyes tightly and averted Roch’s inquisitive eyes. “Something happened to me, but no one is telling me anything! I’ve been here in this… hospital for, as far as I know, three weeks! Where is my family? Who am I? I want to know what is going on!” A single tear rolled out of Cassandra’s eye. The ghost grip from that handshake long ago tightened and she felt pinpricks in the back of her mind again. It almost felt like a code that was could quickly be deciphered, but she had no idea where to begin.

The large dark wood double doors to Dr. Roch’s office flung open. The two male nurses that helped her into the overly comfortable, leather chair quickly walked to her side. With them were two armed guards, with bright yellow plastic looking guns with black lightening bolts on their side.

Roch feverishly filled out more notes as the men entered the room. When he would look to Cassandra, his eyes filled with unanswered questions and wonder. There was more he wanted from their meeting today, but he was obviously not going to get it.

“Dr. Roch, your done for today.” One of the male nurses said gruffly as he reached Cassandra’s side. Quickly, he and the other male nurse picked her up and gently set her in the wheelchair that she despised. “Maybe tomorrow you can continue with your inquest, but Cassandra is needed elsewhere at the moment.”

The second male nurse pulled a vile of liquid and a syringe. Quickly, he filled the barrel with the liquid and leaned close to Cassandra and injected the substance into her arm. She could feel the cold liquid spin into her bloodstream and flood down her arm, into her fingers and back up her arm. Cassandra grimaced at the injection and the feeling of the cold flowing through her body.

Quickly, the nurses pushed Cassandra out the large Rahsarr Maple doors. The two armed guards waited for a second, and then they too left shutting the large doors behind them. The room was silent. It was designed that no sound could escape, and just the same there was no sound that could enter as well. The wheelchair would be echoing madly down the hallway at the pace it was being pushed, but Roch could hear nothing except the old tall clock he inherited from his father. Its pendulum swung back and for steadily, yet unnoticeably to him it was slowing and would need to be cranked again.

Slowly, Dr. Roch sat in his chair behind his massive desk. The desk that sat mostly empty except for pens and pads of paper. There was no phone and nothing personal in the office. The ornate dark woods that decorated the whole massive office were complements by natural colors, but everything was designed for the person sitting behind the desk to seem larger than life, but he hated it.

Looking down at his written notes, Roch silently wished he was back in his lousy basement office with no windows and poor lighting. His job seemed simpler even with all his books scattered on the cold slate floor of his office and his uncomfortable chairs. It sounded like a sweet deal to work for such a reputable company, even if the job required moving across the country and signing a nondisclosure agreement that went so far as to disallow him to contact his family for one year at a time, and that was during a supposed thirty day vacation that never seemed to pan out. Luckily, his contract was up at the end of this year and he had no plans of resigning.

At that time, there was a knock at the doors, and in came another patient. He was pushed in by a male nurse, with another one trailing closely behind. Two armed guards stood stationary outside the double doors with their taser rifles at ready for the worst.

Roch swallowed hard when thinking about ‘the worst’. It wasn’t that long ago that his life had almost been compromised by a patient, whom he had not seen since that incident. The feeling of those hands around his neck was unforgettable. The sounds of a crushing windpipe and bones slipping out of place haunted him. At least that one didn’t go for his eyes like the patient back home…

“Well, Colin. How are we doing today?” Roch asked pulling a new pad of paper from a drawer in his desk.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
(Anonymous)
May. 3rd, 2007 03:47 pm (UTC)
That was sweeeet!
A really good story Joe, I liked it a lot. Enough that I'd want to see more of these characters and what happens to them.
Don't let Knitt get a hold of this though... he'll want to make it into a movie. Or dooooo let him get a hold of it.

Good job, just really good.

Matt Worzala
joe_black
May. 3rd, 2007 04:01 pm (UTC)
thanks! There will be more that I'll post in my freewriting that I do most nights.

so keep an eye out, and any input will be welcome.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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