If you didn’t know, I really enjoy writing. So, when school told us to write a descriptive essay I was delighted! This was the first descriptive essay I had written in a long while and honestly, I’m quite happy with how it turned out.
However, this is not the original version I handed in. Today I was looking through my Google Docs and felt like making a few changes that may better hint what it is about (it’s a little abstract). And as I finished up I thought, why not share it?
So here ya go, give it a read if you care to.
My eyelids crawl open, like the thin layer of skin on a grape, peeling backwards. My cornea is instantly pierced by an abnormally white light. The rays penetrate my eyeballs; I feel it leaving a permanent imprint in the back of my sockets. I think of moving my head away from the harsh light, but the action fails to execute. I try again,
“Head. Turn. Left.”
No action corresponds.
I realise, I can’t move completely. Not even a twitch of the eyebrows. All I feel is a heaviness, like a dozen sacks of sand on my body. Correction, my body is a dozen sacks of sand. Besides that, I don’t feel anything; not the strumming of hair by a breeze, not the flow of air in and out my nostrils, or the rhythmic beat of my heart. But I should be feeling this… I am alive, aren’t I? I must be. I manage to amass the energy for a blink.
I don’t know how I feel. Overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Exhausted? I can’t think, my thoughts last for a scarce second and then get washed away like helpless baby crabs on the shore, quickly taken over by the white sea of light perpetuating on, swamping my vision. It seeps through my eyelids. There’s no room for darkness even when I blink; it fills every fissure of skin, a constant downpour, endlessly streaming. I doubt my eyes even closed.
I slip in and out of consciousness, but always aware of the light, always looking out. But why? The light goes on anyway, indifferent to my acknowledgement. Does the light acknowledge me? Is it looking after me? Light, do you care? No. You shine for yourself. Oh, how you shine on and on, even after the march of time stops. Unchanging.. uniform.. perpetual. The sun loses to you.
White light, bright light.
You stir up something worse than fright, fright that causes me to lose track of time, to lose track of myself, to lose track of-
“How long has it been?”
Did I say that? No, I can’t muster a squeak. Someone else must’ve said it. Wait, someone else! I search the white sea of light, searching desperately for a person who may know the way out or, more importantly, will be the evidence of another soul other than my own. My pupils swim from one corner to the other. Nothing. Not a blotch or speck of dust. Still just this wretched sea of pure white; whiter than the white of a fresh sheet of paper, or of the flesh of a coconut, or of a screen glowing with the computer interpretation of white in a dark room. What is my interpretation of white?
For a moment, I think the light flickered. Before my brain could properly register, suddenly, voices wash over me. Just like that, lodging into my ear, expelling the silent void, overwhelming my senses. Male, female, young, old, slow, fast. Voices! Everywhere! Different voices saying different things. Some sounds formed words, some just sounded like low pitched wails. The latter was the majority. They are all speaking over each other, all happening at the same time, a radio streaming a million different songs simultaneously; each song a different stream of thought. They swim around me, emanating from every possible direction. I lose sense of this.
And then they stop, slip out of my fingers, and obliterate; abandoning me to the void once again. Chaos come back.
As if in response, a single voice starts. It is the last thing I hear and the last thing I experience; a hollow voice, expelling not the void but inflating it to become all there is,
“Twenty-four, Hispanic, deceased.”
Thanks for reading!