PRESERVED
A severed head, sitting in a jar. The laboratory is dim.
Where am I?
The eyes shift in their eye sockets. The head tilts in the jar. A strand of drool drops from its lip.
You are trapped.
Looking through the jar, the shelves outside look curved, distorted. A white smudge seems to create a cloud in the laboratory.
I sniff the air. The smell of death reaches my nostrils.
The jar rattles. The white smudge, the cloud, moves. The shelves bend. The room tilts.
I breathe in.
The severed head blinks. Its mouth hangs open.
I close my eyes. The smell of death.
The head, within the jar, sits on an empty shelf. It opens its eyes.
Your body is missing.
The head moves. The jar rattles.
Try to talk.
My throat is swollen.
The head opens its mouth.
I try to speak.
Drool drips to the bottom of the jar.
You have been dead a long time.
The head moves its mouth.
I hear rasping. Faint rasping. But I cannot speak.
Looking through the jar, through the white smudge, light shines into the dim room.
What is that?
Distorted, a curved door opens. A person enters the room.
Stop moving. Pretend that your dead.
The head tilts forward, and stops moving. The jar rocks back and forth.
Why? I want to get out of here.
The eyes widen. The jar stops moving.
You are trapped. Don't try to escape.
Looking through the jar, through the white smudge, the person approaches. Looking through the jar, the person is distorted, stretched, curved.
Someone is coming.
A thin strand of drool drops from the head's lip.
I know that.
Drip. Drip. Drool collects in the bottom of the jar.
Close your mouth.
A severed head sits in the jar. Against the jar, the reflection of a person stands with their arms crossed.
He knows your alive.
The head shivers. Eyes shift in their eye sockets.
Against the jar, the reflection reaches outward.
What? Where am I?
A hand, wearing a glove, grabs the jar. The hand takes the jar off the shelf.
You've been dead a long time.
A scientist holds the jar up to his face, admiring the severed head.
Looking through the jar, the room spins, moving in circles.
Let me out.
The head bangs against the jar. Another white smudge forms.
Looking through the jar, the laboratory blurs.
The head blinks.
The scientist smiles. "Hello there."
I try to speak. My throat is swollen.
The head moves its mouth.
Holding the jar, the scientist turns and walks through the laboratory.
Looking through the jar, the room spins.
Hang in there. You can't escape.
Looking through the jar, the room shakes. Shelves turn upside down, curving, distorted.
Let me out of here.
The head shuts its eyes.
I see only darkness. I feel the cold sides of the jar, banging against my face.
The scientist walks past shelves, and stops before a table.
Darkness, dizziness. I feel the room spin.
The scientist places the jar on the table.
Spinning, spinning, I feel the Earth turning.
The scientist reaches his hands out, his gloved hands.
You can open your eyes now.
The head blinks.
The gloved hands begin to unscrew the jar.
Looking through the jar, through the white smudges, the room seems clouded.
I want to get out.
The gloved hands take the lid off of the jar.
My throat is swollen. I gasp for air.
Just let yourself die.
I feel gloved hands grab around my head, around my face.
The scientist begins to lift the severed head out of the jar. The head closes its eyes.
You can die now. Now is your only chance.
Darkness, dizziness. My nose itches.
The scientist lifts the head and places it on the table.
I breathe one last breath. Air rushes from my mouth.
The scientist connects wires to the head.
The head stops moving.
The scientist clenches his teeth. "Man, this thing keeps dying."
His gloved hands grab a thick wire, and attach it to the severed neck.
The head remains slumped, dead.
The gloved hands flick an electrical switch. A surge of electricity flows through the wire.
The head shakes. The eyes open. The mouth lets out a shrill screech.
The scientist removes the wires from the head. "There we go."
Where am I?
The severed head blinks.
You can die now. Now is your only chance.
The eyes shift in their eye sockets. A strand of drool drops from the head's lip.
Just kidding.
The laboratory is cold. The scientist frowns.
My throat is swollen. I want to scream.
Gender:
Points: 890
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