Status: in progress.
Obscurity
Report 10.
Shrill screams fill the empty room. Screams that turns the blood cold, that tingles the spine. Jet cradles himself in the darkness. He’s alone and these screams don’t belong to him. These screams, these voices, these whispers – they aren’t his.
These silent voices speak to him. He tries to not listen, but he cannot escape. These voices travel far. They are tangled in his mind and tend to go nowhere. They promise to unravel secrets to him, to tell him great stories.
Jet wants nothing from them, those silent voices. But he cannot escape them and he cannot ignore them. So he listens to them as he continues to slowly cradle himself.
“…Jet?”
A voice. An intruder.
The voices in Jet’s head, they whisper, they speak, they scream, they tell him many things. Many, many things – but one message:
Kill the intruder.
“Jet! Honey, why are you alone in the dark?”
A shudder passes through Jet’s body. He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t want to see the person.
A person or intruder?
Jet looks away. It’s the kind nurse. His favourite nurse, the old nurse. She’s not an intruder. But he still needs to escape.
The nurse watches Jet with concern as he stops cradling himself. “Jet, did you take your medication, honey?”
He nods his head violently, causing his chestnut coloured locks to veil his eyes. He stands and begins to saunter towards his bed. “And the times are baseless.”
“Would you mind if I turn on the light?”
Jet casts a quick glance at the nurse. She’s humming to herself, a strange, yet familiar tune. It’s dark in his room, but he knows her smile immediately brightens when she notices he acknowledges her.
Jet quickly averts his gaze and steadies his breathing.
Not an intruder, not an intruder. A person.
“Yes. Yes, I would mind if you turn on the light, light, light. Please, do so, low, bro, show.”
“So, Jet,” she casually says as she makes her way to the light switches, “how do you find things here?”
Jet does not reply, as the painting hung on the wall, just above his bed strangely engrosses him. It’s a painting of not of gardens, of nature, but of people, of faces. People, bodies, faces all meshed together and disarranged. He felt he was suffocating, just by looking at the absurd piece.
“There are many others here,” the nurse continues, “it’d be good to meet them, don’t you think?”
Still transfixed by the painting, Jet blocks the nurse’s unimportant ramblings. He likes her, but she speaks too much. But at least no one dares to interrupt her; them, at least.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” She marvels, breaking Jet’s thoughts. “It’s different, but fascinating at the same time. It was drawn by own of our own.”
Jet breaks away from the artwork and stares at her.
“His name is Daniel. His room number is 37B.” She smiles warmly at Jet, “You should visit him one time.”
These silent voices speak to him. He tries to not listen, but he cannot escape. These voices travel far. They are tangled in his mind and tend to go nowhere. They promise to unravel secrets to him, to tell him great stories.
Jet wants nothing from them, those silent voices. But he cannot escape them and he cannot ignore them. So he listens to them as he continues to slowly cradle himself.
“…Jet?”
A voice. An intruder.
The voices in Jet’s head, they whisper, they speak, they scream, they tell him many things. Many, many things – but one message:
Kill the intruder.
“Jet! Honey, why are you alone in the dark?”
A shudder passes through Jet’s body. He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t want to see the person.
A person or intruder?
Jet looks away. It’s the kind nurse. His favourite nurse, the old nurse. She’s not an intruder. But he still needs to escape.
The nurse watches Jet with concern as he stops cradling himself. “Jet, did you take your medication, honey?”
He nods his head violently, causing his chestnut coloured locks to veil his eyes. He stands and begins to saunter towards his bed. “And the times are baseless.”
“Would you mind if I turn on the light?”
Jet casts a quick glance at the nurse. She’s humming to herself, a strange, yet familiar tune. It’s dark in his room, but he knows her smile immediately brightens when she notices he acknowledges her.
Jet quickly averts his gaze and steadies his breathing.
Not an intruder, not an intruder. A person.
“Yes. Yes, I would mind if you turn on the light, light, light. Please, do so, low, bro, show.”
“So, Jet,” she casually says as she makes her way to the light switches, “how do you find things here?”
Jet does not reply, as the painting hung on the wall, just above his bed strangely engrosses him. It’s a painting of not of gardens, of nature, but of people, of faces. People, bodies, faces all meshed together and disarranged. He felt he was suffocating, just by looking at the absurd piece.
“There are many others here,” the nurse continues, “it’d be good to meet them, don’t you think?”
Still transfixed by the painting, Jet blocks the nurse’s unimportant ramblings. He likes her, but she speaks too much. But at least no one dares to interrupt her; them, at least.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” She marvels, breaking Jet’s thoughts. “It’s different, but fascinating at the same time. It was drawn by own of our own.”
Jet breaks away from the artwork and stares at her.
“His name is Daniel. His room number is 37B.” She smiles warmly at Jet, “You should visit him one time.”
♠ ♠ ♠
It’s been a while. And for that, I’m sorry.Such a short chapter, but later on, it will get longer.
To my readers and subbers: Thank-you for your patience.
I’m starting to get everything together, so... :)
And yes, I did change the layout. Just a quick question:
Do you prefer the current or the original one?
As always, thanks for reading. :)