ALL THAT WAS LEFT BEHIND

New Strangeness

Through the heavy ink of darkness, he could sense light. It was an intense, bright light, which could be felt from so far away, and so close up. It was so peculiar, and had almost no sense to it.

            His eyelids fluttered, and opened ever so slightly, letting sharp daggers of florescent light jab through the slit of his eyes. He tried to groan out from the pain, but could only manage a weak squeak.

            After a series of blinking fits, feeling the light through his eyelids, creating a red hot colour before his sight, he eventually adjusted to the new surroundings. He looked around hesitantly in the alien world.

            A hospital.

            White walls, enclosing a white empty room. machinery surrounded on either sides of his bed, and lulled the monotonous, automatic beeping into his ears. Everything was slow and murky, and each beep carried a longer echo into his mind then the last.

            He glanced down at his body, covered with a clean white sheet. He yearned to see whatever damage he had which was covered, and unfelt. His mind staggered on slowly and groggy, too oblivious to the situation he was in. He tried to think of the reasoning for him to be in such a place, but the memories were deliberate to flood back.

            Just as Jarrod cleared his throat to attempt to call out, a nurse strolled in. She turned on a second set of lights, forcing him to squint yet again. She came up closer to him, putting on a plastic smile. Deciding not to like her, he cursed the woman, not knowing exactly what made her so evil besides the fact that she turned on more of the artificial lights, and her annoying smiles.

            Her glossy brown hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail and her thick lips parted in order to speak. “Nice to see you awake sir. I'm Nurse McKenzie, and I'm hoping you’re feeling better?” she said the sentence like a question, although it technically wasn’t. He didn’t have to speak.

            When he didn’t, she furrowed her carefully plucked eyebrows together, making a thin line across her forehead. “Sir? Are you okay?” she asked louder.

            He nodded, feeling drained from the effort. “Good…I'm fine,” he groaned with the unfamiliar sense of having words formed on his tongue.

            “My backpack,” he breathed. “Was it transported with me to here?”

            She looked a little confused, but still smiled. “There was only a child’s backpack still attached to your back when you arrived. Goosebumps. Would that be yours?” she asked hesitantly.

            He looked away.

            “That would be mine indeed, miss,” he grumbled. “Would you mind grabbing it for me?”

            “Um…” she bit her coloured lips nervously. He smiled at her and waited. She looked at him, and pouted, finally relenting. “I’ll have to look into that actually. But I will be right back,” she announced, and scurried out of the room like a mouse.

            Alone in the room, he sighed with relief. He closed his eyes from the bright, too-silent world and escaped back into the darkness of his home, and smiled. After a few minuets, his mind began to clear of the heavy fog, and his thoughts were managed with a newly found clarity. He opened his eyes again, and seriously wondered of his whereabouts, and exactly what was going to happen to him.

            He found himself staring at the single, lonely painting on the wall in front if him as he sorted out his plots. Leaning closer to peer at its image, he immersed himself in the world of the painter. The style of the painting was simple, with little detail, making the topic clear as day.