A Glass Winter 11

More in the dark to befriend than any daily offerings. Exquisite sunny wonders hold no candle to the riotous night.

 

You will never shout louder than the screams within my skull. Yell to all your hearts content, the fortress of my mind hears only music.

 

Fallow pools of vapid souls swirl around the world machine. Leaving little fuel for us, the cognisant fools committed to studying lies.

 

Everywhere there were signs on the walls, large and small and wild letters. They shuffled and crowded, bent on keeping pace with the fluid rooms and corridors which never stood still. Maps were useless, she had tried to conquer the maze, scribblings on her hands and arms never seemed to stay sane one day to the next. Nothing made sense anymore. The windows cackled and howled with winter and spring and summer and darkness all within an hour. Vanessa cowered from the nameless faceless crowds that leaned over her intent on extracting some confession or another. White coats and fuzzy mittens subjugated her to their will.

 

Today she was being spoon fed some formless substance by a woman she was sure to be a witch. She knew from tales that this conjurer would put a spell on her the moment she looked into her eyes, she sat resolutely with her face clenched shut into darkness.

 

“More?” The witch asked. She shook her head violently.

 

Where was Theo, did he exist anymore? Time played games with her, when had she seen him last? she didn’t know the length of her sentence or what she had done to warrant it. Strong hands were prying her body apart, bending her arms away from her face and leaving her vulnerable.

 

“Hello Vanessa” A voice said. She unclasped her eyelids just enough to let in a little light. The form of a hazy man sitting across a table.

 

“Theo?” She breathed.

 

“No, I’m your doctor” She flinched, “Do you remember me?”

 

“Did you deliver the baby?”

 

“No, that was someone else. The baby is safe and well, once your better you can see her. Maybe you could open your eyes for me?”

 

It was surely some trick, the witch had put on a mask. When would they cease her torture, how long before they realised she didn’t have whatever they were after? But where was the baby, she heard it crying at night, so close it could be in the next room. Perhaps she had to play along, if only for the glimmer of hope that was the thought of seeing her child one last time. Thrusting her head up like a bird she snapped open her aching eyes and stared hard at the ceiling. It was white and far away, she wished she had chosen the floor, was she at the bottom of some deep pit, or upside down at some great height? She could feel him breathing in front of her, a cold breeze on her neck.

 

“Very good Vanessa. Thank you”

 

A moment passed, or maybe an hour.

 

“What are you looking at Vanessa? Id like to know”

 

“Are we in a pit? Or high up somewhere. I cant tell”

 

“We are in a hospital, today is Tuesday the 23^rd of June. I am doctor Francis Lund. But you usually just call me Frank. Its nice out today, everybody’s probably in some park or at some pool you know, do you like summer?”

 

“No I like night-time. I like it when it gets dark, don’t you know the sun gives you cancer. I don’t think you’re a very good doctor I’d like another one”

 

He laughed. She felt all the muscles in his neck working hard to produce the sound.

 

“The suns also very good for you, the body needs it. Like it needs… fruit”

 

“I don’t eat those. I’m on the carnivore diet, only meat, you heard of it? How do you think I stay so fantastically thin Frank?”

 

“Sounds radical. Do you think you could look at me, you’ll hurt your neck staying like that”

 

She lowered her gaze an inch. White stone walls and a hideous muddy brown painting.

 

“Can I not afford one is that why?”

 

“Not afford what?”

 

“Another doctor”

 

He sighed and started writing something. The scratching of a pen peaked her curiosity and she couldn’t bear to avoid it.

 

“Hello” He said. And it was Frank, how had she not known that. He was more familiar to her now than whole years of her own life. His little button nose and close-cropped hair, his dusty spectacles that were continually cleaned but never worn.

 

“Nice suit” She smirked. It was brown, an even worse shade than the painting, and fit him terribly.

 

“How are you today Vanessa?”

 

Are you a fire. A spitting candle burning bright, always with the hardest flame. Only to hiss and smoke down to a glorious untimely end.

 

Or, are you cautious. Balancing on the edge of a knife. Avoiding catastrophe, pain, and pleasure. Lying in wait for the moment when the universe grants you a step forward.

 

At some point you must decide who you shall be. If only everything stopped spinning long enough to make the right choice

 

Oh, Theo. How will I face the days ahead?