Wednesday, 8 December 2010

11. Operation

I am on a operating table. I am completely aware of my surroundings, as if my senses exist both within and spread out into the air. I can smell rot, sulphur, burning rubber and bleach. I can see a bright light shining in my eyes, all the while seeing the black, half-decomposed bags in tall glass cases. The bags drip foul liquid. I can hear machines, machines that are connected to me. Somewhere down the hall music plays, tiny sounds, like a music box. Further still I thought I heard two people, to put it bluntly, copulating.


A knife makes an incision upon my chest. I can not see a doctor or any person holding the knife. I feel immense pain but can not scream because my mouth has been bolted shut.


Meticulously the presence removes my organs and places them in fresh black bags. The movements are like clockwork:

  1. something severs the organ
  2. plucks it out
  3. flicks open a bag (which stays open by some light breeze)
  4. places the organ inside
  5. as the weight of the organ causes the bag to fall, something twists the top of the bag into a knot
  6. finally places the bag in an old tin bathtub filled with bleach

After I am emptied time seems to slow to a snail's pace. Another instrument is is gathered from a bloody rack that is pulled out from a wall, something I have never seen before, like a spoon with sharp pins growing from it. I am scrapped clean. Until I am just a sack of skin. It feels so cold to be empty.

Soon other objects are used, things that the Spanish Inquisition might have admired. I think it tries to cut open my scalp at some point. I can hear the music slow. I see whole bodies folded into black bags.

Some of them still seek to move! How long have they been in this place? How long have I?


By the end of it all...I think...I think everything that was taken was put back in, still in the now bleached grey bags.


If I am honest (which I try always to be) I checked my body for scarring. Silly, aren't I?

I can not remember my dreams well this week. Sorry. I am too tired. It has been an awfully long day.

I have a tremendous headache. I am going to bed early, as much as I do not want to.


  1. Feel better! Sucks that you're having trouble remembering your dreams.

  2. The tall humanoid hole in his memory is something he'll never get back. He was designed not to see him.