Dyed Sky
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Long-last the human mind,
to think and breathe and bathe in itself,
to remain prejudice, yet without mind,
to remain creative, yet not sane,
to think for one, yet not for yourself.

Trapped in the mind of virtuality,
think nothing of reality, and imagine
that you had set yourself free,
and shall he who realizes,
become the bane of itself.


I hear a voice. One faintly familiar. One that I have not heard in a long time.
I hear children. Laughing. Playing. As if completely carefree. They have no worries.

I hear my inner conscience. I hear it crying. Sobbing.
Crying. Sobbing. Pain. Death. I hear all of it. I see it in my visions, as if they are my own experiences, but aren't.

There are colors above me. Colors that should not be viewed by the human eye. I see shades of pink, brown, green, red, and black. I see colors that I don't even know what to call, or even identify, for that matter. A broken canvas— art without an artist— a masterpiece without a name.

Now I hear the crying again. The agonizing voices of many people. The canvas is spinning around me, and the voices draw closer and closer in. I see bodies. Bodies of the dead; dancing to the chaos, with blood and mucus spewing from their wounds. The children are dancing with them.

They are encircling me. The voices growing louder; the dancing becoming more chaotic.

To struggle was something I never had to deal with. To be surprised was something I never anticipated. All of these things happened naturally.

This is not natural.

I don't know what's going on, where I am, what they are, and more important, what they represent. All I know is that I wanted out. To leave. To escape. Out was the only way where I could have came in. Out was the only way I knew. But there was no out. There was no light. Only the dyed sky. The dark, eviscerated, dyed sky.

I could feel the hinges of insanity coursing through my veins. I felt nothing at that point except the need to escape. The need to be free from this nightmare.

I cured up into a ball and rocked myself back and forward. I wanted to leave. I want out.

Out. Out. Out. Out. Out.

"Out. Out. Out. Out. Out." Over and over again. I want out. They're getting closer. Those things are getting closer.

"Let me go. Why are you doing this?" The crying of the voices turned into screams of dread and laughter. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be here at all.

"Let me out."

Pitch black.

I hear a voice say something, faintly.

goodnight sweet prince


"Doctor Barns will see you now."

I look up to find a white-clothed nurse in front of me, gesturing that I follow her.

picture: you're in a white room with chairs surrounding each wall facing each other, a lobby of sorts. you also find that a majority of the people around you are wearing white overcoats with identification badges, medical insignia[s], and whatnot; so you must be in a medical area. but why are you here? the questions continue!

I look down from the nurse to my feet. "No." I utter quietly, still seated.

"Sir?" The nurse, baffled, asks again.

I quickly look back up to the nurse, visibly embarrassed, and stand. "I'm sorry. Please, lead the way."

The nurse brought me into a hallway with several doors and intersections, maneuvering them as if it were a daily routine. She then stopped me at a door with a golden plaque engraved with the name "Edward T. Barns, PhD.", and opened the door. I entered, and was told that the doctor would be with me shortly, then closed the door.

My surroundings feel comforting. A small room painted medallion with only one window exposing the calm sky, and only a chair with a couch in the middle.

a perfect environment for thinking, don't you think?

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that from you."

oh but why not? we're of the same mind. i can taste the creative juices flowing through your brain. why not just go back to your computer?

"Do me a solid and shut up."

Right as I said that, the door behind me reopened.

"I apologize for the wait, Mister… Kardrek?"

"Kardec," I respond with a stern tone. "It is a name that I chose to correct." Doctor Barns responded, sounding less confused than when he first spoke. "Ah, so that's why your name wasn't showing up in our database. When did you change your name?"

It is extremely hard trying to ignore the voice in my head. Being silent helps, sometimes.

"I changed my name a month after our last visit. If you need me to, I'll refill the registration papers."

"Nonsense, I'm sure I can simply modify your credentials." Dr. Barns walks over to the center of the room where the chair and couch is, and I decide to follow him. It would only make sense that he would sit in the chair, and I in the couch, which is exactly what we did.

too much detail, mister. you think that they wanna hear you talk all the time?

"Now then, Mister Kardec, I was told that you've been undergoing the special treatment that I had previously assigned to you. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. A headache every now and then, but nothing serious."

He glares at me for a few seconds before taking a second look at the clipboard that he walked in with, shuffling through the papers. "Interesting that you say that, because I was also told that you broke off this treatment an hour after you were assigned to it, and did the exact opposite of what I asked you to do."

busted. who is gonna write your shit now?

I turn my head briefly to the window and mummur the same two words. "Shut up."

"Pardon?" Barns responded, almost livid for a split second.

"Oh, I didn't say anything. Not to you, at least."

Doctor Barns continued to glare at me for what I think was ten seconds before he said anything else.

"Mister Kardec, you've been writing again, haven't you?"

mission failed, we'll get 'em next time

I glanced down to ground, at a loss of what to say. I held a blank stare for only a few moments before Dr. Barns started speaking again.

"Listen. I know how much that community affects you, and I understand that you want to be an active part of it. But for your own sake, I have to ask you once more that you undergo and stick with the treatment that was provided to you." He bent forward from his chair and put his hand on my knee.

"I know that you can do this. You just need to be devoted."

don't listen to him. he's said the same shit five times before and look how that turned out. he's nothing but a squabbling egg-head who knows nothing of what you've actually been doing and why you're doing it.

I look up to see that Dr. Barns is a foot away from my face.

"Please. For me, at least."

I'm skeptical to the whole agreement. "…and what if it doesn't work?"

"Then I can reference you to another doctor who can treat you better, a college of mine that I met in college."

is he fucking joking? if he had you on his "database" he would realize that you've already gone to ten different psychologists.

"Alright. Thank you for your help, Doctor Barns. I'll see what I can do."

Barns' was cheerful to see that I had conceded to his plea.

"That is great to hear, my friend. I suppose I will let you go now and order for the next arrangement to be sent to you." Barns takes his hand off of my knee, stands up, and proceeds to leave the room, closing the door behind him.


you shouldn't have listened to him.

"You're the reason I go to people like him."

and i'm also the reason why you became a writer in the first place, fucko. ever thought in a moment of your life what you would be without me?

"I'd be a normal person, just like everyone else. But I can't be normal if I can't focus clearly, and that is where you've always stepped in."

well guess what? do that bullshit arrangement, and your years of work and struggling will be put in vain all because you decided to throw it all away for, what, a life? a family? children? a functioning mentality?

"You're stupid if you think I'll fall for that ruse again."

congratulations, you just called yourself stupid. see you in three hours, mate'.

"…"