It isn't all horrible.
I guess it's the way you get used to it. Things begin to look differently. It's probably how the body morphs, like you're getting out of a cocoon and the fresh air that's supposed to welcome you bites your skin instead. Or how the nerves numb itself when pain becomes too available.
Everything that was good now seems horrible. Everything that was odd now becomes strangely usual.
It's when darkness becomes light that light begins to blind you. You can't do anything because it's just the way of the universe.
How long has it been, anyway? They never tell us. They said it would make for a biased result. We just follow everything in their list. At some point, we had stopped trying to talk back.
Above the wall is a radio transmitter that usually beeps with a red light and a long whistle every other week.
It's when the women in white gowns come in to drain the tank and replace our IVs. Everyone looks forward to it—or at least I do. I can't speak for the rest of us though. You see, we're not allowed to talk to each other. It is also physically impossible. We could be a hundred people here and one would still feel alone.
Not that it matters, anyway.
The light beeps right now and as expected, I could hear muffled gasps behind the oxygen masks, including my own. The room is suddenly filled with faint alcohol smell and skunky smoke.
In synchrony, the footsteps come. The water drips. I don't know why I imagine that they have long, silky hair but I am certain that they are beautiful creatures.
Like angels.
Like angels who accompany you to the gates of heaven. Maybe they will take me to my grandpops, if he is already taken by the Lord, god forbid. The last time we met, he was crying and holding my hand as if he was crushing it. He said he didn't want to die, but the medical bills had surged like a submarine missile propelling up until the ocean waves hit the sky.
Of course, a public school teacher like myself had no way to afford that.
But that is nothing to worry about anymore. Before I left, I had already taken care of it. Surely, my grandpops must be fine now.
Surely, right?
"Lucy." An angel called my name. Is it my turn?
***
(One year ago)
"St. Mary's Sanitarium supports the practice of consent in research. The following will provide you with information about the experiment that will help you in deciding whether or not you wish to participate. If you agree to participate, please be aware that you are not free to withdraw at any point throughout the duration of the experiment.
In this study, we will ask you to stay inside a drug-infused sensory deprivation tank. The tank may or may not cause any form of hallucination. It may or may not cause any permanent neurosis. If you have any hesitations, please inform the experimenter and the study will end now. All information you provide will remain confidential.
Your participation in this study will require an indefinite period of time. Once this study is over, you will be provided free psychiatric care in the same institution. An incentive of Php 100, 000 in cash shall be given to your stated beneficiary right after the experiment. Please indicate with your signature on the space below that you understand your rights and agree to participate in the experiment."
I, Lucy Galang, have read and understand the statement above, and I fully consent to my participation in this study.
Date: September 23, 2004
YOU ARE READING
In the Dark
HorrorA little girl is trapped in a doll. A woman sells her sanity. A man works on his necromaniac art. This is a collection of dark flash fiction and short stories, frisking on an area between madness and imagination. Content warning: murder, rape, se...