Friday, July 22, 2005

of walls and the stuff inbetween

[This one is old, probably about 10 years old, but it's always stuck with me.]

I'm alone in a room. It's small. There's only enough room for one piece of furniture: a rusty old cot with a mildewed mattress on top of it. The floor, the ceiling, the walls, everything in this room is made of three inch wide wooden planks. Hanging from the center of the ceiling is a long cord which ends in a single, bare bulb. The light is on. There's no switch. The room is full of light.

I stand petrified at the center of the room. There's a door that's locked. I don't have to try it; I just know it's locked. In fact, I really don't feel like touching anything in this room.

Somehow, just like I know the door is locked, I know that the walls are full of corpses. Stuffed between the studs in the walls, stuffed under the floor boards, even hiding under the rusty cot ... I know there are gray-faced decaying corpses packed like sardines into this stifling little room.

I can't leave. I can't sit down. I can't turn off the light. I can't touch anything. I can only stand there, terrified, while I'm watched by the corpses in the walls.

I can't take it any more and I start screaming. Instantly, the corpses start screaming as well. It's the most horrific wailing sound I've ever heard. When they begin screaming, everything shatters. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the doors -- everything explodes into a spray of splinters and large shards of wood.

That's when the bodies begin tumbling to the ground. Amidst a rain of wood and screaming corpses, I finally can escape out the door.

That's when I woke up.


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