The Mind In Isolation


Pic of the day:  The Apparition of the Virgin to Saint James the Great, by Nicolas Poussin

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Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business, as the day
Would quake to look on.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Scene ii, act iii, Hamlet

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The following are lines I am thinking of using in a a story I am writing.  If I don’t use these I’ll use ones similar enough to these, based on them in all likelihood.  Near the midpoint of this story I have the main character locked away with no contact with the world, complete isolation, sensory deprivation, and have them think out loud their fears and anxieties. 

Basing the following on things that have been recorded as actually happening in the minds of those who have gone through sensory deprivation for extended periods of time… with a healthy dose of creativity tossed in for good measure.

Fun, fun, fun.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I think I know the path to hell better than the devil.  For he fell there one day, and has stayed there since.  He does no mischief here, all the works attributed to him are the works of men, or else fevered imagination gone haywire.  I?  I go there regularly, and then claw my way back out, only to go back again.

The path to hell is an easy one.  It’s path is paved with needs denied, wants turned aside, opportunity lost and fears realized.  Hell is the present, and heaven past.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Being alone is an easy thing to do. But why do they have me tied down, mouth bound?   This is driving me mad. Being alone in this complete darkness is driving me insane, having a person to share the world with would light the world.

I’ve been in here for days… I think.  I’m losing track of time.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

This can’t last forever, but dammit I wish it would end.

I am dying here.

Help me.

Somebody please help me.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

They want to break me.  Why do they want to break me? Why do they want me to break?  Why? Why won’t they let me see the light?  I can feel vibrations sometimes, I can feel sometimes.  There is still a world out there, I think.  No I’m sure.  I feel sometimes.  I almost cried when it happened last.  Yesterday, last week, 5 years ago?  Time is so… non-existent here.  I don’t know how old I am.

I almost forgot my name.  Almost.  I am…

My name is…

Emily?  I think it is… Oh god….

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

They came again.  Don’t know how long ago.  Hours? Days?

I don’t know.  But everything hurts.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Bound me.  More than I was bound before.  Didn’t know that could happen.  I could not see, haven’t been able to for ages, but I moved.  It felt so good to just move, just to have that acknowledgment of existence.  Then it happened.  Shocks.  Hard shocks.  I screamed.  I bit down on something, and the pain got worse.  The shocks were so hard that i felt like pieces of me were about to explode.  My ribs cracked, my head burst.  I was blissfully dead.  Then I came back.

And cursed the world, and the womb that bore me.

They will pay.

Whoever did this will pay.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I am awake, she thought.  Alive.   Cold, with pain coursing through her skull and her body.  She moved, or tried to at any rate.  Her head was on a fire with the pain of fresh wounds, cold though it was.  Her head was on a curb, a broken bottle of some type next to her, she couldn’t make it out.  She could barely see.  Though it was barely sunrise, the light was fir her unbearably bright.

The pain in her head was searing, but it was the pain in her ribs that kept her from getting up. She was shivering from the cold, and the cold hurt, made everything hurt worse.   She said between gasps”Cold….  Aaaaaaaa…  Fu… ck this hurts…  Help me….  Some…body fucking help… Please…”

There was no one around.  The area was desolate.  She had no idea where she was.  And she could barely move.

“Please…”

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Note:  I have about several chapters worth of this story outlined and ready to go.  But the part above actually happens a few chapters further along in the story than I have gotten, call it four or five chapters past where I am right now.  It is in fact easier to write this stuff than to storyboard getting to this point.  Otherwise I would be further along than I am at this point.

Damn!  Writing is fun!

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That’s it from here, America.  G’night.

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One thought on “The Mind In Isolation

  1. Great art, as usual. All your concepts are fraught with huge possibilities, in my opinion.

    My favorite:

    ” I think I know the path to hell better than the devil. For he fell there one day, and has stayed there since. He does no mischief here, all the works attributed to him are the works of men, or else fevered imagination gone haywire. I? I go there regularly, and then claw my way back out, only to go back again.

    The path to hell is an easy one. It’s path is paved with needs denied, wants turned aside, opportunity lost and fears realized. Hell is the present, and heaven past.”

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