Comatose (chapter 7) Hellish Visions.

The character in the story is left alone for the night with his thoughts. He/she has visions of hell while sleep.

I finally got back to my hospital room after stuffing my face with food.  My parents went home for the night, leaving me to my paralyzed don't know what to do self. To make myself less lonely, I called in one of the nurses to turn on the television. Gladly, my favorite show was on which is My Strange Addiction. 

After a few hours of watching M.S.A, I could feel my eyes beginning to get heavy. I blinked a few times before drifting off to sleep. It was pleasant, almost like a dream, but it could be the medicine making me tired also. My breathing got shallower as I fell into a deeper sleep. Before I knew it, I was in sleep paralysis.

I was trying to wake up but to no avail. All I could do is breathe fast and shallow breaths.  There are visions in my head of my brother, with his face burnt and his face twisted into a permanent scream. That caused me to try with all my might to wake up but to no avail. I felt like I was being held down against my will.  The next thing I saw while being trapped in my own body, is me in what seems like a cauldron. My skin was melting off, showing my blackened bones.  Standing next to the cauldron, was some sort of being.  The being had blackish-reddish skin, claw-like feet, eyes of fire, and a menacing grin. He looked straight at me and pointed to the cauldron. 

I forced myself awake. My sheets are drenched with sweat, my heart is feeling like it's about to come out my chest, I was shaking uncontrollably, and tears was running down my face.  A nurse noticed I was up and came to see what was wrong.  She began talking to me but I was too shaken up to acknowledge what she was saying. She then called my parents and sat me in my wheelchair until my sheets were changed.  She gave me a bath and gave me another hospital gown. I was still shaken up though. I couldn't get those images out of my head. Especially the image of my brother. 

My parents finally came to the hospital to see if I'm okay. I wasn't. I don't know how to tell them about my hellish encounter. I can't lie to them, but I don't want to shock my parents. I just kept it to myself until the time was right. I sat in my hospital bed, confused and still shaken. I started to ask myself, what did all those visions mean? Am I going to hell? Did God really forgive me for what I have done?

 

Reviews

[WallyM]

I sense the makings of a profound narrative here, but there's a feeling you're working your sentences too hard to convey mood and imagery, e.g., "I could feel my eyes beginning to get heavy" , "That caused me with all my might to wake up but to no avail". Your story pulls me along (at least most of the way), and that's good, but at times it's like being dragged up a rocky stream, I have to wade.

Though it sounds counter-intuitive, Stephen King advises us to "let the reader do [most of] the work" [of creating imagery].

If you can, get a hold of Dave Eggers' short story "After I Was Thrown In The River And Before I Drowned". Reading it can be a shock to the system.

Hemingway: "He came to the river. The river was there."