|Red Land Blues
Author: T.S. Atlas PM
Everyone is, to a degree, insane, some more than others. For refuge, we go to our wonderland, a place that belongs only to us, our reality, but sadly, every dream must come to an end. The story of a man being woken to the world.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Tragedy - Words: 502 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 10-27-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3069227
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The scent of blood hung in the air, signaling another great day. The crimson river flowed as elegantly as ever, the remains of fish, leaping high out of the blood. The maroon sky that stretched high above this hellish, bloody world began to get dark. Clouds started to form, thunder struck like breaking bones, the many skeletal birds that hung in the sky plummeted the dark red marble that was the earth. The many heads that littered the field exploded, blossoming into large crimson roses, stretching their petals to the sky, waiting for their day's meal, waiting to drink the hellish sky's tears.
In the center of the field, sitting upon chairs made of grotesque heaps of flesh and bone, were the only sane men in this world. They all came here, just as the roses, to drink their daily wine. The sane reaper, dressed in his usual blood splattered dark robe, rose to his feet, and with him, the two that wore masks resembling that of a hare and rabbit, albeit, deformed. Today, they not only celebrate the day and its wonders, but they had come to celebrate the arrival of the man in a white jacket.
The reaper, wine glass in hand, raised his skeletal arm to the hellish skies as if demanding it to cry for its satisfaction. The skies responded, shedding its wine. From high above, the carmine colored blood fell, filling their glasses. The man in the white jacket soon became stained red. As he opened his mouth, the red liquid slid down his throat, giving him the euphoric state that he so longly needed. The ill scented, sweet tasting liquid dyed his once white coat into a much more solid red color. This is what he needed, what he wanted. The fact that he lost his mind in this world reinforced the fact that he was still sane on the outside.
The man's eye's opened wide, waking him to his nightmare that never seemed to end. He sat himself up in the small, padded world that served as reality. His white coat tied his hands behind his back. The world that he knew was now gone. His red world, gone, replaced with this white room with padded walls that nowhere resembled his world of blood. The scent of blood, replaced with a rancid sterile smell. What was this hell that he had awakened to? He bit his tongue, hard, drawing blood, just wanting to taste the sweet nectar once more as it slid down his throat, yet, he was disappointed to find that the blood now tasted sour and disgusting.
The man fell to the padded floor, tears in his eyes, he started sobbing. What is this place? What is this nightmare that he had awoken to? Is this sanity? Is this hell?
The man closed his eyes, hoping that someone, anyone would kill him. He lay, eyes closed, waiting to return to the red land, waiting to return to his wonderland.