Sorry it has been almost a week since our last post, Alex has been kind of tied down by other means, but we have got him back, along with the next part of The Experiment stories, he even said there may be follow on’s… Hopefully.
The Experiment (Part 2: Emotions Run Deep.)
The date was unknown. Where to start? Probably my earliest memory; all I can remember is a white room with an enormous blacked out window, the door to the room was camouflaged within the wall. I know I was a child as I do remember throwing my building blocks and my favourite book, the dictionary, at the window once in a tantrum. To this day I still have no idea what was behind that window. Well being in that room, it wasn’t a room; let me rephrase, that cell, I thought that those 12 feet were my world. All that existed within my world was me and the person within the white spacesuit, who came in to give me more medicine, my three meals a day, studies and sleeping injections. The room in which I lay at night was completely white but over the years my own writings and highlighted words from the dictionary became tacked to the wall.
My hands threap the edging of the book, lost within a love I have never read before.
“How are you feeling today, Flynn?” A deep voice puts forth from beyond the window.
I slowly drag my eyes from Shakespeare.
“I am rather contempt and affable today, sir. I would like to finish reading about these two people, if you please.” I voice in an almost susurrus tone, it was probably the drugs.
As I sway from page to page, Shakespeare showed me something that I had never felt; lachrymose was inclined to set in. How can these two fictional characters have a love far greater to that of real people? This pleasant idea turned truculent within me, gnawing at my very soul, I was a puppet to this idea of love which had me dangling from its hands by my heartstrings. In the words of Shakespeare, I was afeared from this affect, my heart had bollen and beteemed as my snuff was sniffed and now inside I ululate.
Still sitting on the edge of my bed, I was about to commit a suicidal emotion dip within my endless routine. In the corners of the rooms are piles on piles of books, ranging from all genres. Will I ever witness such an event of love within myself? The book debacles, it leaps to its death before I do. My eyes widen to reality.
“Flynn, your heart-rate is rising, we are sending someone in to give you some medicine; you need to calm down, please.” A speaker voice; his words seem scripted.
“Calmness! How can you ask such a thing from me? When I have never loved, you would calm such a soul who has never lived within another’s heart. That is the greatest of evils!” I hail at the screening.
The door automatically opens, with a flick of my wrist the door wafts shut. I charge at the window, trying to punch a hole into darkness.
“I am the monster and you are my creator. No one could ever love me, not if I am a genetic mistake, created by phony gods. What am I? What am I?”
I stop my attack and collapse to my knees, my open hands squeak as they are dragged down from the window, to the depths with me.
“Why? Why am I on my knees when she is out there, out there without me? She cannot be far, and she would not hide, not from love.”
I will fight for love.
A few second into my hurt.
“Flynn! It is Doctor Watson, if you tell me what is troubling you, I will be able to help.” A female voice erupts from the murmurs of males voices outside.
“What am I, doctor?” I blubber.
Either she will hide me from my reflection she holds in her hands or she will show me something with horns.
“You are a very unique person, an advanced military experiment, one with so much uncontrolled power, we must contain it or the entirety of our planet could be at risk, you understand, don’t you? Flynn.” Her voice is the bible to me.
I slump in my self-loathing ability. The door opens ever so slowly; I do not even make eye contact with it. The doctors head spirals around the frame, the door gradually opens as she enters; there’s is four men behind her, dressed for the occasion, all in black, from their boots to their gloves to their hand guns, they are pointing. The doctor is a middle aged woman, red furious hair, heavy red lipstick, just by looking at her; you know she had plans of power behind those eyes.
“Am I the prince of the story, which is trapped in the tower by the witch?” I make known above the flashing red lights, outside my room.
She escalates down to my level to her knees, picking up my right hand and stroking it.
“No, no, no. You are much more than that; you are the king of a new world, a new world that has not caught up to your class, yet. Do not think of yourself as a prisoner, Flynn. Bars mean nothing to a king, when he is expecting his thrown.” Her manipulating tongue shackles me for now.
“What if, it was not a kingdom I wanted to rule; what if, I wanted to rule the emotions and thought process of a woman and vice-versa.”
I see belief in her eyes.
“Then in time, you shall. Give us more time to help you. When I was a little girl my mother used to say to me, what is for you will not go by you. And I waited and waited and worked, and then you came into my life. You were what I wanted.” She wipes away one of my tears.
“What is for you will not go by you? – Does that mean, whatever route I take or however long I wait, I will get what I deserve?” I see a shine spark from her words within me.
“Yes, whatever you do, or how you do it, you will find what you are looking for. Okay.” She rises to her king. Her hands rested at her side of her white overalls.
She wants my blessing to her phrase for her frame of mind, but her words are crashing cataclysmically underneath my blood, that now runs cold, until that one warms me up.
“I am so sorry, doctor.” I gently give into fate.
I hold up my palm and aim it at all the people. They are all violently thrown backwards and are pinned against the wall in the hallway. They try and struggle their way away from the wall.
A stentorian alarm shudders through the entire building; the red lights invoke a life again.
“So no matter what I do, or how I do it, I will find love. Thank you, doctor; you have really opened my eyes to what I must do.” I confidently say to the paintings.
With my loose hand I point my palm at the door at the end of the corridor, hopefully a way out from this horror show. Multiple doors are swung open to reveal a dark opening at the end.
I scape for a world unknown, but that was fine, as I did not know myself that well either; the idea of finding out three things made my legs move. Outside, myself and her. I reach the end of the red tunnel, out of breath. The echoes of orders and roaring engines take refuge within my ears. Two giant torches from towers are shown upon me. My left hand goes up to cover my eyes as I glimpse through the recesses of my fingers.
An army is presented in front of me, one willing to die from me to stay. I had never seen a helicopter before, only read about them; now from page to reality, one is pointing a turret at my curious nature in the search for love.
“Please! I am just looking for love!” My heart pleads as my words bleed.
Through all of the chaos, I see it, the moon, so big and so bright in the middle of the sky, with a blank expression, watching my life as if it were on a screen. I come off my feet in awe to such beauty.
“Will somebody please shoot him?!” I hear the doctor’s voice.
All of the pellets come whizzing by me. Angry, I close my fist and aim for the moon, no armies there.
Soon I am above the facility and the shooting stops being a sound, only the whoosh of air by my ears. I see a darkened cloud and throw myself into it, my arms wide open, trying to blanket myself in it. A line, that must be the end of my world beyond those trees, where the cities roam and towns trudge, I want to go there. I fly towards it so fast, all of the trees beneath me blur in my hurry.
A thunderous roar comes further on, I can just make out the blinking lights of what seem to be from a plane of some sorts, then a flash of light from under the plane is emitted and a slight screeching sound is brought towards me, along with a pipeline of smoke, a missile. Light/Black.
I do remember I was falling from the sky, am I an angel? Angels do not feel this pain, just close your eyes and go to sleep Flynn, soon you will awaken and you will find her. Into the forest I go, into the wild.
- Writing Reality: Pathos across Genres (celenagaia.wordpress.com)
- Interview with Lisa Cresswell (debbiemanberkupfer.wordpress.com)
- TEEN READ WEEK: A brief history of young adult literature (wtvr.com)
- A brief history of young adult literature (cnn.com)
- Author Interview: Cat Winters (thebookwars.wordpress.com)
- How Reading Literature Makes You A Better Person (theguardian.com)