Writing Competition: Entries

[ruken]

The brilliant, brilliant, brilliant blue


I.

I am?

And white light explodes, I am drowned in light and forceps and drills and eyes, I can beat it, I shut my eyes and they all go away, except the light, the light seeps through red and green and bursting in patterns and colors and pain..

..pain. What am I comprised of? Where do my dimensions extend? Some go below, some go above – very few go above. Above itches, warmer. Cooler. Cold. A ring of pain.

Below tries to move, but does not. Below spreads left, spreads right. Spreads below, then splits again, left, right. Each is held in place. I feel that they could move if they were not held in place, why am I held in place?

Below left moves. Closes at the end. Opens, closes. It could hold, it could hold the right below. It could hold other, other belows, hold them by the above.

Open again. The light hurts so much, and there is water, but they are open. The white is ugly. It hurts. There is more white. It is beneath the other, the Other.

There are Movers. The Other is a Mover. The Other picks up the forceps and the drills and the white cloths that come back red. What is a forceps, a cloth, a drill? The Other has these things. A forcep, a forceps? Some law behind me, in between above and below, finds this strange. I am strange?

I find it strange. What are forceps? They claw into my above. What are drills? They grind into my above. I am one with the table, mined out. I could be a Mover, but I do not. Perhaps I am an Other, not a Mover? But the Other is both.

I find this strange. What is a table?

The cloth comes back red. How do I know drills? The cloth comes back red. Where do I know forceps? The cloth comes back red.

The red is so pretty, I feel it should be. Where is the red? Come back red, but the forceps are red. That is not so pretty. It looks as though it will drip.

The white is the enemy. The white represents pain, all this light. My eyes hurt so much, and the Other only blocks it for a short time, when the Other is above me. The Other.

The Other is kind. The Other brings the red back, the pretty red. The Other is eyes, spotted with blue, two blue spots, with black spots inside. They are inside the white. The blue is pretty, prettier than the red, prettier than the white that surrounds it and the flesh. The Other is pretty, that I think under the blue and the white and the flesh that maybe there is red too, so much red that everything would burst.

The cloth comes back red. So pretty!

Something back. Way back. Red. And Others. Yes, there is red in the Others. I think it is true. I could see red, when I touched the Others. Inside, I could see, but it came outside when I wanted it. I see Others as a mass of red, all bound up and tied up and waiting to come out. And they are pretty when they are red, so pretty that the white becomes red, and the blue becomes red and the brown and the green and it all becomes red. It is pretty because it is red, but it is not as pretty..

The forceps dig in. Above.

The red is not so pretty. The red hurts. The red smells bad. I can smell, and there is red and white. The white smells clean, and the light hurts less. The Other.

The Other is a ring of blue, a ring of brilliant blue. All the meaning is in that ring, I see it back. And there is red inside, deep inside, but I do not..

The drill spins, and the white light is flecked with red. Above.

The red is ugly. The white is pretty. All white is pretty, and clean, and the red is ugly. The cloth comes back red, and I am afraid. I want the red, but I do not want it? I want it inside. Away. Above. Not to taste, not to smell.

The cloth comes back red. The cloth makes the red go away, the cloth takes the red away. And now I shake. Everything shakes because I shake. I want the red to stop coming. There is too much of it, I am afraid of it. The red is in the Others and it is in me, because I am an Other. The drill, the forceps hold me. Could I be a Mover?

I am afraid of the red. The forceps are red, and the forceps made the red ugly, and the drill made the red ugly. And the light makes the white ugly, but the Other blocks the light when the Other moves beneath it. All is ugly but the Other, the Mover; for the Other is pretty, and the forceps are strange. And all the colors are ugly, but the blue; the ring, the halo, the brilliant, brilliant, brilliant blue.