Portals, probes and voices

Daily Prompt: 1984

You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.

NarcissusI stood staring in front the mirror for too long, attempting to peer through and not with the eye into something deeper.  Slipped into a trance.  Someone found me, but who?  And when?  I now find myself strapped like some toy to the back of its packaging with my back firmly against the wall.  Arms, legs, waist, shoulders and head are bound tightly; enough to squirm but no more.

Tubes are attached to nearly every orifice except my mouth, which is now dry and cracked.  I feel a conduit of some type fastened to the back of my head, something oozes underneath.  The room is dark and invisible save the flickering projection screen in front of me on the opposite wall, which runs a tedious stream of images both strange and familiar.  Blurry, partial snippets only–no full story, no common thread connecting them; like a thousand abandoned children looking for a home and finding a crowded marketplace.

Present thoughts appear to influence the pace and contents of this video stream.  I close my eyes but my ears betray me.  I hear voices, the sounds of distant piper airplanes overhead, spring peepers by a bedroom window in the summer—and calls to come home for dinner before it gets dark.

My heart pounds.  Are these Memories or dreams?  Aberrations of a confused mind or the steady dripping of some propaganda engine?  Cue the mirror with the eye!  Cue the unnatural fixation with assessing a moving target.  Know thyself indeed!  A mirror betrays.  The ego implodes.  A room to myself with nothing but my own thoughts to haunt, shape and ruin me.  I dug too deeply.  I probed too far and found the portal to Hell.

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