Calm, Serene, Prison

                                                                        By Hell's Angel

            "So what are you in for?"

            "Stomach ache. You?"

            "Head ache. Get some sleep. It helps just about everything. I've been in here since the end of fourth period until just about ten minuets ago, sleeping." I glance down at my watch.



            In comes some toast and a coke. Seeing as I had slept through lunch, I needed something to make my stomach shut up. As I eat I glance around the room. It's dark, relatively quiet and supposedly calming. The shades are drawn, keeping the room as it's on little world. The shades however do not block out the sounds created by the world around the world.

            Finished with my meal, I lay back to stare at the ceiling. Beneath my back the bed the bed is stiff, refusing to mold to the contours of my body. Such a contrast from the blanket strewn across my legs. Soft, it's like velvet underneath my calloused fingers. The sterile pillow crinkles as I move. Amazing what one can sleep on when the body is taken by pure exhaustion.

            I sit back up and pour myself another glass of coke. The carbonation fizzes, a slight break from the monotype sounds of this prison of a room. The ice clinks against the sides of the glass as I lift is to my lips. The sweet liquid sliding down into my stomach. Cold in my hand, I set the glass down upon the bedside table, and push the lap table back to the foot of the bed.

            A quick glance reveals my "cellmate" is fast asleep.  Good. Here you need all the sleep you can get. The schedule is beyond exhausting. Actually sleep is more precious then gold around these parts.

            Once again I lay down. This time I make an attempt to get comfortable. First I lay on my back, then move to lye on my front. Finally I lay on my side, the glass on the table even with my eye level. The two ice cubes sit within the glass, stacked against the side. Hypnotically the perspiration runs down the side of the glass to pool in the bottom.

            As the nurse comes in I quickly sit up again and grab my glass. Hurriedly I pour the rest of the amber brown soda from the can into the glass I hold. After I do this the tray is removed.

            I lay back, my gaze once again fixed upon the glass and it's contents. The ice slowly pools upon the bottom in its liquid form. Watching the ice slowly melt must be right up there with watching linoleum peel.

            I close my eyes, attempting to leave this reality and enter into the world of dreams. My mind was willing, but my body rebelled. Sleeping in the middle of the day was not a natural activity and my body knows it. After the edge of exhaustion has been removed, my body will sleep no more.

            My eyes open and stray to my watch.


            Eighteen more minuets. Eighteen still until classes end and I will be able to leave this prison of serenity and quiet.

            My eyes drift shut and I listen. The sounds of the outer world penetrate the darkness. With a deep breath I block out the real world, concentrating on the sounds within this private world. The whisper of the blankets. The rustle of the sheets. The even breathe of the other victim of this room.


            My eyes shoot open. What was that? I turn my head and see the shattered ice cubes, forlorn within the glass. Those shards must be the culprits. My body relaxes as I( view this world through the glass. The room distorted nicely, a break from the constant state of the room. I sneak another glance at the watch.


            Twelve minuets left. The ticking of the clock breaks into my thoughts, into my mind. It slows down the time around me, cutting it into pieces. Leaving it disjointed unsure of itself. The ticking ends the smooth ribbon, destroys the fluidness of time, dragging out my wait for freedom. Yet another subtle reading of the watch.


            Eight minuets. Eight minuets between me and freedom.

            Gently I sit up and slide off the bed. Silently I pad to my bag at the foot of the bed. Reaching in I remove a notebook and pencil. Like a waif I return to the bed, hoping to pass the remaining time in words.


            The minuets have passed. I have survived this test. Back into my bag I gently place my supplies, my lifeline of the past moments. I gather the jewelry I had removed before settling down to sleep. I slip into my shoes and take a final glance around the prison, at these four walls of supposed serenity and calm. Turning by back on it I open the door and leave, relishing the freedom that greets me as I exit.

AN: Ok this was inspired by my stay in my school's student health center. (Think of a building instead of just a nurses' office).

Most of the events in the story happened, but not necessarily in the order in which they appear. Please let me know what you think.