the pills won't help me now

A Story by plainme

Giant oak stems like pillars holding up the sky, limitless. Will o’ wisps grazing on the light rays falling through the canopies. Large visible rays fell on the ground, burning dry leaves with its majestic concentrated power. An eye from the heaven, looking down on the brown, once alive, crumbled and fumbled layer of delicate paper. I found myself in the middle of the woods, lying on a pile of brown leaves. The white oak stems reaching up to the sky pulling me on my feet. I looked around and saw nothing but trunks: white, clear and clean.

A silence dominated the surroundings until I heard a glowing sound. Something bright hovered my way. It passed my existence as if I was dead, but it was headed somewhere. It passed next to me for a reason but it ignored my presence. I followed the will o’ wisp until we reached an unpaved road. Two lines parallel to each other ran in both directions. Both ran in opposite directions. The will o’ wisp stopped and started to fade. I continued my slow pace and walked towards the road.

I had a choice, to go left, or to go right. But right was left just as left was right. What was the right way to continue and find my way out of this forest? I felt light, a spirit perhaps. I looked at my hands, which had an eerie glow about them. I felt as if gravity pulled me down completely. I did not seem to find it difficult to walk through the unmarked path from where I have lain to the road. I did turn back to inspect the road and found shrubs and creepers all around. I walked through the woods and creepers like an arrow through the air, unobstructed.

Left it was, cause I didn’t feel right. From the moment I got up I felt too peaceful. It didn’t occur too often. I used to pass out on pills and alcohol, jags and powders, hunger strikes and ancient reigns. I continued my walk along the unpaved road. It didn’t feel like your everyday nighttime stroll. It felt unnatural and the trees seemed to judge me with every step, the once green leaves and plants wilting along as I casted my spherical shadow on the ground.

As I continued walking and inspected my surroundings I saw a change in the familiar pattern. The road, once straight, now, bent in lefts and rights. Even though they were going different ways, they were eventually coming together. The road was curving around a large concrete house. It reminded me of the hospitals where I used to lay. Tubes and blood packs all around. I stopped following the road; I knew it encircled the building.

There was one big window, a bit like the ones you have in police stations, with only one party able to see, the other a mirror. I was the spectating party. I moved closer and peered inside; a hospital indeed: a single bed; tubes and blood packs; two chairs and medical machinery observing and noting changes in patterns. A man laid in the bed, with a bandage around his head, a hospital gown in white and blue dots. A man and woman, old of age, with hints of gray and wrinkly skin, occupy the chairs. Holding each other’s hand and focusing on the man in the bed, untouched by their worried looks. The man lay there with his eyes closed; he did not intend to move for quite some time, or perhaps forever. As I pressed my face against the window I saw a resemblance in his complexity. The thick eyebrows and narrow eyes reminded me of mirrors. Mirrors were once whole and now broken. But they were just a memory. Now the mirrors aren’t any more. I look at my feet and can’t see them. All I see are a thousand and one shards; in each I see a light that is concentrated in my eyes. The room in front of me slowly starts to dim and all I see is the heart beat monitor with frequent peaks, falling slowly, until a solid thin blue line stays and the light inside the room disappears. I am being spectated and see my reflection, but a will o’ wisp stands in my way.

© 2018 plainme

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Featured Review

Dean Kuch®

It is such a shame that I find myself the only one to review this wonderful, well written story. Does everyone here on Writer's cafe have attention deficit disorder? Is all anyone reads here anymore simply poetry? That seems to be the case, as most if not all of my stories lie dormant on my own page. Neglected and ignored and gathering dust, simply because they take precious "time" to read. But, I digress...

An eerie walk along with a soul trapped in the hell of purgatory, this was a chilling, yet poignantly written tale. The sadness and longing to be whole once again emanates from the page as the reader accompanies your protagonist along on this mystical, morbid journey. Very terrifying write, plainme!

"The road, once straight, now, bends in lefts and rights..."--->Since you had used words prior to this sentence making reference to past tense, you may want to look into changing the word "BEND" here, to "BENT", or "WOUND"...