Hanoi
10-29-2003, 06:23 PM
...I wouldn't mind getting some feedback on this piece of writing I did.
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Styx
I awoke to rain. The faint trickle of icy water bleeding across my cheek dripping from somewhere above. Rough dry skin pressed hard against the cold dead surface of concrete. An icy wind contrasting with the heat from an unknown source. A radiator perhaps?
Here I was. Lying immobile, defenseless like a newborn child. Blinded by tape. Bound at the wrists. Mouth sealed shut. Greeted only by the cackle of scornful laughter. And voices. So many invisible voices. All shrieking at once in disarray. Like childish devils in some unholy choir. All clawing at each other for attention. There words, indiscernible. Speaking in a disharmony of tongues. But by their voices, by their tones it was clear. These devils where raging like the blood through my veins. One voice in particular seemed positively enraged. But even his deep bellowing tones silenced few. I could almost feel them spit and hiss at each other. Like enraged snakes writhing in fits of anger. Bellies baking in the desert sun. “But what have I to do with these snakes? There’s no answer. Why am I here? To sit and rot? Will they starve my crippled body of sustenance or will they drip-feed me a meal a day? Pulped steak perhaps. Liquidated if I’m lucky! Will they keep me here? Will they sustain me? Cradle me? Or will they watch me turn from ripe to rotten? For what purpose?! What is a man without purpose?!” and with each questioning though, each glance towards obscurity I became more and more frantic, my sloping brow doused in a greasy layer of cold sweat and grit. “Could this all be a lie, a product of an overworked imagination? No. I’m not here. This isn’t happening. I’m back home, I’m safe, I’m in the womb. And nothing can touch me here. No devils can reach me here. I’ll curl up, curl into a little ball of light. And they won’t find me. They won’t find me hiding here! They’ve come to reclaim my soul. These… snakes! They’ll eat me whole. That’s what snakes do isn’t it? They eat there prey whole. And I say snakes because these reptiles aren’t men like I. No! They’re Inhuman. They’re figments, dreams. Shadows against a brick wall. They stand tall now, but come the noon sun and they’ll disappear. Banished by the light. And I’ll be warm. Working my way to the core. And nothing can stop me now! ” And in a spasm of pure panic and rage equal to that of my shrieking captors, I convulsed, greeted by the harsh taste of bile, violently choking on my own bitter vomit.
And suddenly it was as if I was swallowed. Lost in a vacuum, without time, no longer pressed against my concrete grave but floating along the Styx, bobbing gently pulled by current. Tranquil. No screams but silence. Adrift, yet at peace. Accepting my fate, holding on to it and submersing myself completely beneath the clear, calm waters.
I let out a gasp and sat up immediately. The visions of pearl blue waters and tranquil currents imprinted on my mind. “Still in my cell.” I whispered. Still here. Crouched in my corner. But this time I awoke alone, unrestricted without bonds. No snakes to be seen. I could breath the stale air freely. I could touch the dead gray concrete, I could feel my aching body. My broken ribs, my bloodied face. And most importantly of all I could see. I could see the awful mess I was in. And seeing it meant I could weep. For there is no obvious escape from this grim windowless room. The trickle of water endlessly flows. And I cannot but wonder how long I have left in this concrete prison. How long my cackling devils will keep me here? And for what purpose?
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BLAH!!! One HUGE cliche. Can you tell I used to write episodes of "Saved by the Bell"?
________________________________________ _____
Styx
I awoke to rain. The faint trickle of icy water bleeding across my cheek dripping from somewhere above. Rough dry skin pressed hard against the cold dead surface of concrete. An icy wind contrasting with the heat from an unknown source. A radiator perhaps?
Here I was. Lying immobile, defenseless like a newborn child. Blinded by tape. Bound at the wrists. Mouth sealed shut. Greeted only by the cackle of scornful laughter. And voices. So many invisible voices. All shrieking at once in disarray. Like childish devils in some unholy choir. All clawing at each other for attention. There words, indiscernible. Speaking in a disharmony of tongues. But by their voices, by their tones it was clear. These devils where raging like the blood through my veins. One voice in particular seemed positively enraged. But even his deep bellowing tones silenced few. I could almost feel them spit and hiss at each other. Like enraged snakes writhing in fits of anger. Bellies baking in the desert sun. “But what have I to do with these snakes? There’s no answer. Why am I here? To sit and rot? Will they starve my crippled body of sustenance or will they drip-feed me a meal a day? Pulped steak perhaps. Liquidated if I’m lucky! Will they keep me here? Will they sustain me? Cradle me? Or will they watch me turn from ripe to rotten? For what purpose?! What is a man without purpose?!” and with each questioning though, each glance towards obscurity I became more and more frantic, my sloping brow doused in a greasy layer of cold sweat and grit. “Could this all be a lie, a product of an overworked imagination? No. I’m not here. This isn’t happening. I’m back home, I’m safe, I’m in the womb. And nothing can touch me here. No devils can reach me here. I’ll curl up, curl into a little ball of light. And they won’t find me. They won’t find me hiding here! They’ve come to reclaim my soul. These… snakes! They’ll eat me whole. That’s what snakes do isn’t it? They eat there prey whole. And I say snakes because these reptiles aren’t men like I. No! They’re Inhuman. They’re figments, dreams. Shadows against a brick wall. They stand tall now, but come the noon sun and they’ll disappear. Banished by the light. And I’ll be warm. Working my way to the core. And nothing can stop me now! ” And in a spasm of pure panic and rage equal to that of my shrieking captors, I convulsed, greeted by the harsh taste of bile, violently choking on my own bitter vomit.
And suddenly it was as if I was swallowed. Lost in a vacuum, without time, no longer pressed against my concrete grave but floating along the Styx, bobbing gently pulled by current. Tranquil. No screams but silence. Adrift, yet at peace. Accepting my fate, holding on to it and submersing myself completely beneath the clear, calm waters.
I let out a gasp and sat up immediately. The visions of pearl blue waters and tranquil currents imprinted on my mind. “Still in my cell.” I whispered. Still here. Crouched in my corner. But this time I awoke alone, unrestricted without bonds. No snakes to be seen. I could breath the stale air freely. I could touch the dead gray concrete, I could feel my aching body. My broken ribs, my bloodied face. And most importantly of all I could see. I could see the awful mess I was in. And seeing it meant I could weep. For there is no obvious escape from this grim windowless room. The trickle of water endlessly flows. And I cannot but wonder how long I have left in this concrete prison. How long my cackling devils will keep me here? And for what purpose?
________________________________________ _____
BLAH!!! One HUGE cliche. Can you tell I used to write episodes of "Saved by the Bell"?