Brain Dead
There I lay.
Remained, unchanged.
Mind numb, thoughts blank,
Only visions of snowy white project onto the black backs of my eyelids.
Was I paralyzed? Or perhaps I had reached my final destination six feet under the earth...
No. Worse...
Writer's block.
I look around me. Nothing but enclosed darkness. No windows, no doors.
The air is thick and cold...not yet cold enough to see my breath, but just cold enough for an uncomfortable setting...the monotonous silence is deafening...
I panic, running around frantically in the chilling prison walls of my mind, screaming, clawing, kicking, hoping to somehow break through and see the light of day.
I stop after what seems like endless useless hours of fighting. Hands bruised and drenched in stale dried blood.
I'm sitting on the ground now. I yell into the emptiness but receive nothing in return, no echo, nothing. I yawn wildly in fear I have gone deaf...but then I hear a voice. Soft and faint, so gentle that I'm ambushed with another attack of yawns to once again reassure that the tiny whispers are more than my blank labrynthed mind playing tricks on me.
There is a light. A small light, bright and inviting. Shining through an old fashion key hole, to an old fashion door that seemed to appear from thin air.
On hands and knees I approach it with caution. I hear the innocent voice again and I pause. I take a deep breath and look into the peep hole.
I find myself locked eyes in the reflection of the wild appearance man in my computer screen and awaken.
Copyright © Vincent Rossi | Year Posted 2012
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