Since I joined this site two weeks ago, all I've done is read other peoples' works, but a couple days ago an amazing and revolutionary thought occurred to me. Maybe I could try to ACTUALLY POST SOMETHING!!
I've been planning this story for a while, but never got around to writing it until now. I whipped this up relatively quick, so it probably needs some work. I might continue it-and come up with a title-if I get decent enough feedback.
And I'll shut up now because I'm starting to ramble.
Here it is, now go out there and steal my critique virginity.
Untitled
“C’mon Alderson, get your ass outta bed. You need your pills soon, else you’ll get them crazy thoughts of yours back.”
“What’s that? Oh, it’s just you. Still acting like you think I’m crazy, Mr. Brooks? I know you believe me. No one else in the whole prison believes me, but you do. We both know them pills ain’t gonna do anything for me.”
“Try taking the damn things for once and you might see why I don’t believe your ideas.”
“What about them don’t you believe then? Are you just too stupid to see the truth, or are you having a hard time admitting the world you know and love don’t exist?”
“The only thing that don’t exist is your common sense. Look at this,” said Mr. Brooks, a confident smirk on his face. “It sure as hell looks like a nightstick, don’t it? You expect me to believe such a realistic-looking nightstick don’t even exist?”
“Course it don’t exist, ‘cause nothing really exists. What you see is only your mind’s depiction of a nightstick. Give me proof that the nightstick isn’t in your imagination, and I’ll take my pills.”
Nole knew what was coming next, and braced himself for impact. He watched the guard raise his nightstick over his head, preparing to strike. He had given up fighting back a long time ago. The rest of the guards would only gang up on him if he did. Half of his life had been devoted to this treatment, and that wasn’t about to change. He was used to the pain anyways.
But he never got used to the anticipation. Pain, on the physical level, could be disregarded, but the feeling of never knowing when or where the pain would occur frightened Nole above all else. This time, the pain came around eight seconds after Mr. Brooks raised his nightstick. At first the pain centered around his left shoulder, but it soon took over his entire body. After a second, Nole discovered the source of this magnified pain: the force of the blow sent him crashing into the wall. Never before did Mr. Brooks strike with so much force, and the pain was almost too much to bear. His left shoulder spurted blood all throughout the cell, and it felt as if his life were draining away with it. Surely half of the prison heard the thud of Nole’s body colliding with the stone barrier between his cell and the one next to him. Typically such a sound would send a dozen guards rushing towards the source of the noise, but not this time. Most guards grew accustomed to hearing similar sounds on the mornings Nole took his pills, and they knew to leave well enough alone.
“What the hell was that for? Do you think hitting me even harder will prove anything?”
Of course Nole knew the answer to this question. He asked it several times before, but he had to say something to show he still had some strength left in him.
“But hitting you harder did prove my point. If this nightstick don’t exist, how could you feel it hit you?”
“My mind knows how to make me think I’ve just been hit with a nightstick,” Nole said, trying to sound unphased. “My own mind created the sensation of pain, just like my mind created the appearance of the nightstick in the first place.”
“Just shut up! Shut up and take your damn pills ‘fore I really hurt you!”
“I ain’t letting you dumb me down with those pills again. You’ve shoved that shit down my throat for as long as I can remember, and I’m through with it!”
This time Nole’s body didn’t just thud; it actually created a small crack in the cement wall. Over a dozen people arrived at the cell before Nole realized what had happened. Two of them helped the poor man onto his feet, but most sided with Mr. Brooks. Many of the others had dealt with Nole before, and all agreed that he had it coming. Nevertheless, one guard felt sorry enough to inform the doctor-on-site of the situation. By this time, Nole was out cold.
***
“Nole? Nole, can you hear me?”
Nole nodded toward a blob hovering over him. It resembled the doctor, only much bloodier than he remembered. He glanced around the room to make sure the guards were all gone, finding nothing but more blood.
“Yah, I can hear you; I just wish I could see you more clearly. Why’s everything look so red?”
“Hear, let me fix that for you,” said the doctor, as he wiped the blood from Nole’s eyes.
With the red haze lifted from his vision, Nole noticed he was no longer in his cell, or anywhere else in the prison for that matter. For the first time in twelve years, he witnessed something other than the uniform gray of his cell. An IV now standing next to him caught his attention immediately. It pumped the most vibrant red liquid he had ever seen into his arm; it was much more beautiful now that it aided him. Just past his toes, Nole saw the type of double-doors commonly found in hospitals.
He turned his attention back toward the doctor. He had not caught a decent glimpse of the doctor’s face until now, and what Nole saw shocked him slightly. The man had gone without shaving for what appeared to be at least a month. He was also squinting, as if he needed glasses but refused to wear any. This, along with his tiny nose, one inch thick eyebrows, semi-bald head, and the quirkiest smile Nole had ever seen, resembled the features of a pedophile. Then the doctor stood up, revealing most of his body. Nole never could have imagined any sort of health advocate being so obese! The man must have been over 400 pounds. Yet, oddly enough, this feature added a sort of warm presence about the doctor that overpowered his previous child molester appearance. Nole must have been laying on an elevated surface—more than likely a hospital bed—because he could not see the doctor’s feet. He was too weak to roll over and find out for sure, but in trying, he discovered he was able to turn far enough to the right to view a window. To Nole’s surprise, the outside appeared to be in motion.
“Are we moving?”
“Yes, we’re just about to arrive at Trident Medical Center. We should be there in about 15 minutes.”
“Why can’t I feel the ambulance moving? Am I paralyzed?”
“Of course not. You took one hell of a beating back at the prison, but a nightstick can’t cause you enough damage to paralyze you. They broke pretty damn near every bone in your body and punctured a lung, but you’ll be back to normal—eventually. The reason you can’t feel anything is because of the anesthesia. Actually, we pumped the last of it into you before we got into the ambulance, and the effects should be wearing off soon.”
“So you mean at any given moment, body is going to just overflow with the pain I felt earlier?”
“Well, yes. Unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Before leaving the prison, I found these in your cell,” said the doctor, pulling a few pills out of his pocket. “I thought they might come in handy, so I brought them with me. The guards said they were to help you think more logically, but they will also work as a sleep inducer. They won’t last very long, but they should put you out until we arrive at the hospital. We’ll give you more anesthesias when you start waking up.”
“Thanks for getting me outta there, Dr.—”
“Turnis. You should hurry up and take those pills before the anesthesia wears off.”
Nole took his pills. All concepts of the universe and the way things work drifted away from consciousness, and he entered the most blissful state imaginable. After a few seconds, that state faded into darkness, and Nole slept.
Once again, Nole awoke to the sound of a doctor’s voice, but this one was much younger and more handsome than Dr. Turnis. The type of doctor that announces the death of whichever Days of Ours Lives character was diagnosed with strokancer paranoiAIDSitis in the previous episode.
“Mr. Alderson,” the doctor said while pretending to look at his clipboard, “A visitor has come to see you. Should I let him in?”
Before Nole had a chance to answer, Mr. Brooks slid into the room, the smirk he gets when he feels he’s doing the right thing shining brighter than ever.
