remains, human
The room is cold, dark, and concrete. No windows. A dirty white surgical light sits in the middle, illuminating an empty steel table on wheels. The far wall contains a door, six inches thick and made of some rusted metal. It gives the appearance that if one even touched it with bare skin, infection would be instantaneous. There is a steel padlock fixed on the door; it looks new and stands out from the door. The lock glimmers as dirty light hits it. It is unlocked. On the opposite wall, there is a long desk with shelves and drawers, a medicine cabinet, a sink, and a pale red light coming in from above. One might says it gives the appearance of a darkroom, but there are no photographs to be seen. In the right corner, there is a refridgerator, colored pink only from the overhead light. The two remaining walls are empty save for a few detailed posters and drawings of the human anatomy. The room is empty.
Suddenly, the door opens with a loud screech of old metal on concrete. For a moment, a light from the hallway outside brightens the entire room. On the floor, very apparent in the light, there are dark red stains scattered around the central table. A figure enters from the doorway and immediately closes it, securing the padlock with precision. The figure is carrying a large black garment bag. It is full of something and seems very heavy. As the figure sets the bag down and walks to the surgical light, a face is revealed. It is a man, probably mid-40s, with thin brown hair and grey eyes. He is wearing light teal medical scrubs under a black rubber apron. He whistles and casually walks over to the desk. From one of the drawers, he pulls out latex gloves and puts them on. The whistle now turns into a gentle hum.
He opens the medicine cabinet and a weak light inside comes on. There are seven small glass jars lined up on one of the shelves. Each one is has a handwritten label and resembles a baby food container. Also, each one appears to be filled with a yellow-colored liquid. Upon closer examination, there are objects in the jars, floating in the liquid. From left to right, the objects appear to be: ear, eye, finger, tongue, nose, teeth, and... empty. The gentle hum continues, only at a faster pace and with more enthusiasm. The man picks up the empty jar and holds it up. In the glass reflection, a wide smile appears on the his face. He purses his lips and kisses the jar. The medicine is closed and the jar it set on the desk.
The man now dances his way over to the refridgerator. As he opens the ice box, he sings an inaudible song. In the ice box, on a steel tray, is a frozen human head. The head is missing all of its distinctive features. The only thing remotely distinctive about it now is the number 31 carved into the forehead. The man breaks into a falsetto version of his song and closes the ice box. He skips back to the desk and opens another drawer. In this drawer there is an assortment of knives, scalpels, pliers, forks, and hammers. He extracts a curved blade and a small mallot and lays them out on the desk. Closing that drawer and opening the one below it, the man taps his foot, the rubber boot squeaking on the concrete. He takes out a power drill from the drawer and tosses it back and forth in his hands. Now, the song has reverted back to a whistle. He gathers his tools and carries them over to the metal table in the middle of the room. Then, the whistling stops. The man's smile fades and his eyes narrow. He reaches in a back pocket and brings out a tape recorder. Holding it to his mouth, he says:
"The sedative is wearing off."
The bag near the door begins moving.
The room is cold, dark, and concrete. No windows. A dirty white surgical light sits in the middle, illuminating an empty steel table on wheels. The far wall contains a door, six inches thick and made of some rusted metal. It gives the appearance that if one even touched it with bare skin, infection would be instantaneous. There is a steel padlock fixed on the door; it looks new and stands out from the door. The lock glimmers as dirty light hits it. It is unlocked. On the opposite wall, there is a long desk with shelves and drawers, a medicine cabinet, a sink, and a pale red light coming in from above. One might says it gives the appearance of a darkroom, but there are no photographs to be seen. In the right corner, there is a refridgerator, colored pink only from the overhead light. The two remaining walls are empty save for a few detailed posters and drawings of the human anatomy. The room is empty.
Suddenly, the door opens with a loud screech of old metal on concrete. For a moment, a light from the hallway outside brightens the entire room. On the floor, very apparent in the light, there are dark red stains scattered around the central table. A figure enters from the doorway and immediately closes it, securing the padlock with precision. The figure is carrying a large black garment bag. It is full of something and seems very heavy. As the figure sets the bag down and walks to the surgical light, a face is revealed. It is a man, probably mid-40s, with thin brown hair and grey eyes. He is wearing light teal medical scrubs under a black rubber apron. He whistles and casually walks over to the desk. From one of the drawers, he pulls out latex gloves and puts them on. The whistle now turns into a gentle hum.
He opens the medicine cabinet and a weak light inside comes on. There are seven small glass jars lined up on one of the shelves. Each one is has a handwritten label and resembles a baby food container. Also, each one appears to be filled with a yellow-colored liquid. Upon closer examination, there are objects in the jars, floating in the liquid. From left to right, the objects appear to be: ear, eye, finger, tongue, nose, teeth, and... empty. The gentle hum continues, only at a faster pace and with more enthusiasm. The man picks up the empty jar and holds it up. In the glass reflection, a wide smile appears on the his face. He purses his lips and kisses the jar. The medicine is closed and the jar it set on the desk.
The man now dances his way over to the refridgerator. As he opens the ice box, he sings an inaudible song. In the ice box, on a steel tray, is a frozen human head. The head is missing all of its distinctive features. The only thing remotely distinctive about it now is the number 31 carved into the forehead. The man breaks into a falsetto version of his song and closes the ice box. He skips back to the desk and opens another drawer. In this drawer there is an assortment of knives, scalpels, pliers, forks, and hammers. He extracts a curved blade and a small mallot and lays them out on the desk. Closing that drawer and opening the one below it, the man taps his foot, the rubber boot squeaking on the concrete. He takes out a power drill from the drawer and tosses it back and forth in his hands. Now, the song has reverted back to a whistle. He gathers his tools and carries them over to the metal table in the middle of the room. Then, the whistling stops. The man's smile fades and his eyes narrow. He reaches in a back pocket and brings out a tape recorder. Holding it to his mouth, he says:
"The sedative is wearing off."
The bag near the door begins moving.
posted by sean harrison at 11:14 AM
1 Comments:
There is lots of stuff in that room--it creates an atmosphere.
Almost reads like a film script.
I like that he's whistling, then humming, likes he's at peace with himself.
Lots and lots of good detail.
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