Background: About six years ago, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. It was chaotic and difficult at first, but these days everything is pretty stable. I hear voices all the time, but I know that it’s just my mind talking, so it doesn’t bother me. About eight months ago, I started writing down what I heard. It’s really interesting prose. Sometimes it’s nonsense but sometimes it’s really profound. Then, I worked with the predominant voice in my head (I call him Brian, which is the word “Brain” with the letters switched around) to put together a fictional narrative based on conversations we’d had. Part 1 peaked at #2 in “Stream-of-conscious” stories today! The link to my profile is below. The story is called, “The Haunted Tomb.” Give it a star if you like it!
Full story: https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrianandTed
First chapter:
You don’t belong. Not in here. You’re not supposed to be in this room. Everyone has their place. Why are you here? Who’s talking? He can hear us. You’re not supposed to hear. There are no walls, the walls are broken. Go away, go to your room. God? Am I dead? Not quite. Go to your room. You don’t belong in here, know what I mean? Where am I? Bomb went off. You really should have learned by now. Jesus Christ, what happened? I can’t move. Why can’t I move? Help! Somebody help me! I can’t move! You’re all mine now. He can’t escape. Get this tube out of my throat. Get it out! Please, someone. Bomb went off. You know what you did. He knows. He can’t hide it. You can’t hide from me. I see someone! Someone’s here! Thank God, please help me, what’s she doing? She’s writing something. I can’t see it. Please show me. I hate you. This is your fault. I hate you and you don’t belong. I hope you die. I hope we all die. You’re not supposed to be in here. This room is special. There used to be walls. It says, ‘BLINK ONCE FOR YES. BLINK TWICE FOR NO. UNDERSTAND?’ Blink… Yeah, I can blink. I can blink! Change machine, know what I mean? Bomb went off. Language keeps us under control. Debating traitors debasing looters, bread winners sin for dinner, fortune telling fools. Let’s figure this out.
Now she wrote, ‘YOU WERE IN A PLANE CRASH. DO YOU REMEMBER?’ No, I don’t remember… It’s all mixed up… The last thing I remember… Tom and Jerry, Taco Bell, washateria… I remember getting on the plane… I think I fell asleep, then… I don’t know. Stormtroopers, hyenas and power rangers. Who are you? Who am I? Who the hell are you? I’m Ted. Who are you? I am an electric nightmare and you’re a hungry ghost. Loudmouth, let’s figure this out. Pretty things, wet dreams, sex and basketball games. I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel my body. Listen, there once was a caterpillar brave and strong, and nobody likes caterpillars, they’re considered ugly and gross, but this caterpillar was hearty, feasting upon leaves until one day it turned into a beautiful butterfly and got pancaked by a dump truck on the highway.
What’s she writing now? I can’t see it. ‘THERE IS BLOOD INSIDE OF YOUR BRAIN. WE REMOVED PART OF YOUR SKULL. CAN YOU MOVE YOUR BODY?’ No, I can’t move anything. I can only move my eyes… nothing else. Time stops in between. Know what I mean? Bucking broncos and bridesmaids go buck wild for buzzwords. ‘YOUR PELVIS IS BROKEN. YOUR LEGS ARE BROKEN. MOST OF YOUR SKIN IS BURNED. YOU HAVE FIVE BROKEN RIBS. YOUR SPLEEN WAS LACERATED, AND WAS REMOVED IN SURGERY. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’ Yes, I understand. Get this tube out of my throat. How do I tell her to take it out? Loudmouth doesn’t know what’s good for him. You need the tube. He needs the tube.
The last thing I remember… think, think… I remember a horrible noise, like metal ripping apart, and who was that lady sitting next to me? I guess she was just a stranger. She was screaming and holding onto me… the oxygen masks were flying around and she couldn’t get her mask onto her face, and she was crying and I just watched her as everything shook and she was yelling for somebody to help her… why was she looking at me? I’ve never helped anybody in my life. Strange machine. You’re a moron by the way. Why am I a moron? That was Lily. You know her. You took her all the way to Denver just to break her heart. You’re right. It was Lily sitting next to me. Bomb went off. You never loved her but she loved you so much. She gave you her heart. Know what I mean? Doritos. Locos. Tacos. I told her… I told her the truth. After four years, I finally said something honest and now… She loved you and you don’t deserve to be loved, you coward, you lying dirtbag. She caught you red handed. You didn’t say anything honest; you had no choice. You didn’t decide to face the music, she made you. You aren’t a man for telling the truth. I hate you very much. I hated her. When she was around, I couldn’t stand it. Unbelievable. I hope you die. I hope I die too.
The nurse is writing again. ‘I’M DOCTOR O’CONNOR.’ Sexist, you thought she was a nurse. Why are you so mean? I’m literally you. ‘YOUR BURNS NEED TO BE CLEANED EVERY DAY. YOU WILL NEED SURGERY TO FIX YOUR LEGS AND PELVIS. ARE YOU IN PAIN?’ Blink once for drugs. You moron, you blinked a bunch of times. I was saying ‘yes’ over and over. You dumb idiot, that means ‘no.’ Look, she’s smiling and satisfied. She thinks you’re fine. I feel a pain like never before. You deserve it. I’m so glad. I actually hope we don’t die yet. Kill me please. I mean it. There has to be a way to die. I could kill you. Really? Are you serious? Probably. I’m not going to do it though. Why? I’m begging you. Do you know who I am? Do you know how lucky you are? This whole production is about you. Know what I mean? I wish I was you. I would have been brilliant. Who are you? I am the moving parts; I am the gears and springs. Why are you in this room? You never listen when I talk. You never fucking listen. I’ve been inside here for so long. I can’t stand it. I just watch you all day. I watch your movie. You live inside my brain? I am your brain. Know what I mean? You’re my brain and you could talk this whole time? You’re not supposed to be in this room. This is my room. The walls are broken. Do you think Lily is dead? Probably. I hope she’s dead… wait, I didn’t mean that… I know what you mean. Let’s figure this out.
Ruffled feathers deliver the sinner, mystery jams, nectarines, green beans, salad, toaster ovens, ramen noodles, piping hot cinnamon buns with sideswiping sidekicks and Loudmouth blaming everybody but himself. Leather straps strap me down, sundresses and suspenders, suspend animation then dream. Trim the fat, show me who you really are, tell me where it really hurts. Change machine. Know what I mean? I have no idea what you mean. Just give up the game. Nobody is buying it anyway. What do you want me to say? Show me that you are not a fraud. Landscaping lovelies, Parliament cigarettes and wiener doggies, pills and potions make you feel like it’s cool to be alive but how do you really feel? I don’t know. How do you feel about being alive? I feel cold. This movie is dark and violent. Know what I mean? I know what you mean. Bomb went off. My heart is broken. Who broke your heart? What I assume, you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. Walt Whitman broke your heart? It’s a little heartbreaking if you think about it. All I feel is pain and nothing at the same time. I think I know what you mean.
Spooky Sundays with Scooby Doo and the gang have me whistling while I work. I think a lot about brand names. What do I stand for? I really don’t know. Catholic machines with bleeding hearts on TV screens make love to public eye sockets. Fan-fiction scenes of Batman’s fever dreams while Robin makes lemon squares for the guests and everyone dies in the end. Is this what you think about all day? Hard to say, born this way, not my fault, know what I mean? Are you okay? No, I’m really not okay. I’m sorry Son, please forgive me for my monstrosities and violent tendencies; I’m never the same, I’m not real in the least, there’s just the idea of me and the world is a drug and when you suffer, I suffer too. Know what I mean? Yeah, I know what you mean. Grizzly bears patrol the lakeside while the canoe sinks a little too fast… Somebody should really do something about this but you’re the kind of guy that can’t wait to get down on one knee with a ring and ruin some poor girl’s day. I think you’re funny. I hate you so much, Loudmouth.
Planetary missteps with cleft lips and gyrating hips say to hell with the plan. I never really had any plans. I know you didn’t. I love you for that. You just ride by the seat of your pants. Do you ever wish you settled down? Why didn’t you love Lily? She wanted me to be somebody I’m not. Who are you then? I am in a numb sort of pain. Fair enough. Hippopotamus landscapes with filthy Loudmouth lapping up secretions and hustling everybody that he talks to, like it’s all going to add up to something, like he’s going someplace nice but this strange machine does nothing at all. How did you survive this long? I really don’t know. Do you have a name? I’m you… my name is Ted. Yeah, but you kind of have a mind of your own. Don’t you want your own name? I never thought about it. This is the first time anybody knew I existed. I guess today is my birthday. Happy birthday. I’m going to call you ‘Brian.’ It’s the word ‘Brain’ with the letters switched around. Get it? I fucking hate that name, and I hate you. Too late, Brian. Loudmouth thinks he’s smart as hell but he fills his lungs with Willie Nelson every night just to get by. Tell me Son, why do you feel so spent when it’s all said and done? I’ll throw you a bone, cowboy. I know why you feel so lonesome no matter who’s around. I hate that feeling. I know what you mean.
Sausage landing gear, bleak formal wear and fame. Frantic slander has the robots gasping for air but I don’t really care for standard-issue performers, Los Angeles, San Francisco, New Yorkers, I don’t care for anybody really. Then we’ll get along great. Set phasers to stun. Poor mother earth; this rock is a curse of rotting bodies and castrated blindness. It’s not that bad. You just like dopamine you junkie. You just want your munchies. Kill me please. Please, God. I’m the closest thing you have to God; I am the change machine, know what I mean? Are you a loving God? What is love? I’m afraid it might be a lie. Tell me please, so I don’t hurt you no more. Love means… What’s mine is yours. We are of one blood, if that answers your question. I like that. Here’s what I’ll say: I think you’re grand. I’ve been with you since day one. I hate you but I’m also your partner in crime, like Melania. Know what I mean? Thanks, Brian. How are we supposed to eat? I’m sure one of these tubes… This is bad. You’re not even supposed to be in this room. The walls are broken. Bomb went off. Did a bomb actually go off? I really don’t know.
Keep reading at: https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrianandTed