My Picture Viewer World
Oh, the things you can see.
Once upon a time I was younger and, perhaps, wiser than I am now. And I saw… oh the things I saw. It was like looking through a picture viewer as a child, only it was all in front of my eyes. I could touch it, taste it, feel it, smell it. I was living it.
I remember my mother taking me to the hospital. I didn’t want to go. Hospitals smell bad, like too much medicine and too many sick people, too many dying people, too many stories you’ll never get to hear.. I begged her not to take me, but she did. They put me in the bed, tied my arms down. I screamed and screamed. My legs kicking, my fingernails clawing into my skin.
A needle appeared out of nowhere and then . . . silence. And then . . . my picture viewer world.
Walking though the forest and there is a path clearly laid in front of me. In the middle of a section of trees I see the birds and the fishes and animals I don’t even have names for. They’re running in a circle. Faster, quicker, faster, quicker. I hate gym class. I don’t go toward them.
I see two men, twins by their looks, reciting poetry to each other and laughing and having a good time. I don’t know any poems.
I’m walking and walking. This turn, that turn. I don’t seem to fit anywhere. I see a giant chess game. A lion and a unicorn. I’ve no skill at chess and no wish to be devoured by a lion although the unicorn is beautiful.
I get invited to a tea party, but my mother won’t let me drink tea because I put too much sugar in it and she says the caffeine is bad for me.
I fit no where. I am no where. But I’m in the middle of everything. And I’ve been walking so long . . . For so so long. And I’m tired. My feet hurt. I need to rest. I need to lie down.
And I’m sleepy, so so so sleepy. I just need to close my eyes for a minute. Just sleep for a minute. Then I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I just need to sleep. Just need to sleep. Sleep.
When I wake up there’s a wasp in a wig, but when the picture gets clearer it’s just my mother. And the picture viewer world is gone.
But my arms are still tied to my sides.
I remember my mother taking me to the hospital. I didn’t want to go. Hospitals smell bad, like too much medicine and too many sick people, too many dying people, too many stories you’ll never get to hear.. I begged her not to take me, but she did. They put me in the bed, tied my arms down. I screamed and screamed. My legs kicking, my fingernails clawing into my skin.
A needle appeared out of nowhere and then . . . silence. And then . . . my picture viewer world.
Walking though the forest and there is a path clearly laid in front of me. In the middle of a section of trees I see the birds and the fishes and animals I don’t even have names for. They’re running in a circle. Faster, quicker, faster, quicker. I hate gym class. I don’t go toward them.
I see two men, twins by their looks, reciting poetry to each other and laughing and having a good time. I don’t know any poems.
I’m walking and walking. This turn, that turn. I don’t seem to fit anywhere. I see a giant chess game. A lion and a unicorn. I’ve no skill at chess and no wish to be devoured by a lion although the unicorn is beautiful.
I get invited to a tea party, but my mother won’t let me drink tea because I put too much sugar in it and she says the caffeine is bad for me.
I fit no where. I am no where. But I’m in the middle of everything. And I’ve been walking so long . . . For so so long. And I’m tired. My feet hurt. I need to rest. I need to lie down.
And I’m sleepy, so so so sleepy. I just need to close my eyes for a minute. Just sleep for a minute. Then I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I just need to sleep. Just need to sleep. Sleep.
When I wake up there’s a wasp in a wig, but when the picture gets clearer it’s just my mother. And the picture viewer world is gone.
But my arms are still tied to my sides.
♠ ♠ ♠
Wordspill.Inspired by kafka/Andy's posts in the "Things You Hate To See in Stories" thread.