Night Room

Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com

Room twenty five by a cold cement tile covered hall with white suits and dim lighting I lay, looking down at the floor covered in a shadow from the umbrella on the door knob, its creeping subtleness makes it hard to shut my eyes.

The sink in the bathroom sounds as if it's breaking the plaster with each drop falling like a bomb piercing my ears and causing an echo of distorted voices I care not to hear any longer.

I can't remember why I ended up here nor do I know what my ailment is but I assume it has to do with my trip into what I perceive to be hell, being the area where I fell into obscurity amongst something I thought would never be possible. In many ways it was a lot like tonight in that it was cold, damp, the moon shining through the curtains in full view, except the sounds of rats squirming in the darkness was overwhelming my ability to focus on a way out of the trap that befell me.

As I knocked away the spider webs that seemed to stick to something beneath me that I can only describe as several smooth round rock shaped circles I furiously tapped at my flashlight revealing a tunnel filled with human skulls, looking up, the rain poured down on my face hitting my cheek and surrounding me with water as suddenly I was in a canoe gliding slowly through a tunnel until I came out on the other end observing old and elegantly designed buildings with people of all kinds of shapes and features looking on, grinning back with the plastic they were made of.

I looked up and the sun blinded me as I awoke in room twenty five with an umbrella hanging ever so slightly from a door knob. Well that is my story and I have told it repeatedly to no reaction, they don't seem to care anymore as they never utter a word wheeling me down the hallway every day since.