Books: An Abridged Existence (excerpt)

Chapter 2

The chilly wind blows over the soft green field; grass waving with the gusts. A lone tree stands in the field, with no branches or leaves. It is debatable whether it is really a tree. The tree comes closer, and branches begin to grow from the top. Roots begin to sprout and bury themselves deep within the ground. Small buds appear on the branches, green in color, and shaped like tiny plums. The buds violently burst open, showering the field with petals, and grow into broad, green, leaves. The field is covered with white flower petals; the grass is no longer visible. The cool breeze changes direction, and is more violent.

The sky darkens, but no clouds are present. Bright, burning lights become visible in the sky. The stars shine brightly down upon the now white field. The breeze dies, leaving a dead cold darkness, illuminated only by the stars in the sky. The tree branches begin growing at an alarmingly fast rate toward the starry midnight sky.

The rat claws at the box. The box is in a room. A dark room, with fog. It is a very big rat. And it is getting bigger. The rat is larger than the room and ruptures the room, bursting free. The room is a box lying in a field of cheese. The earth is floating far above in the starry and distant sky. Meteors are floating overhead, dancing about. Playing tag. A big meteor opens its mouth to eat a smaller one. The rat runs around on the cheese ball, consuming all the cheese in sight.

It is raining outside the window. There are no walls, no doors, no people. Only the window and the rain pounding gently upon it. Someone left the window open. Rain is getting inside. The carpet and windowsill are growing very damp. The water is running down the wall. Wetting the chair, soaking the papers, and smearing all the words on the unrecognizable and smeared colored sheet. The sheet is bleeding color onto the desk. The color bleeds onto the carpet. The color bleeds onto the chair. The color bleeds onto the rain. The rain blends everything dark purple. All the vision is dark purple.

A voice is heard. An ethereal voice. A voice with no body. It is swearing. Swearing very loudly. “Damn it” the voice says. The rat and stars and box and room are fading, fading away into nothing . . .

The hospital ward where the man lies sitting in a stupor is quiet. Except for an extremely upset nurse attending the man. There lies an upturned cup on the man’s head.

“Damn! That’s the second cup of grape juice spilled today.” The nurse exclaims very loudly, and proceeding to urgently mop up the juice from the ill man’s eyes. The ill man stirs, but does not say anything. His blurry eyes are stained with purple.
“You’re not supposed to be up yet,” the nurse gently tells the man, proceeding to pick up a needle and jab it fiercely into the man’s arm, after first sterilizing the spot. The contents of the syringe enter the man’s body. The man’s bleary eyes close, and do not reopen. He drifts back into a deep, relaxing sleep. The nurse moves on to the next patient.