Bungalow palace
I’m sat in my red throne, mesmerized by a giant, pink brain almost completely filling the room in front of me. I cannot see the room past its pink mass, its parts are weaving together so large they look like a pink, palace maze. My eyes are lost in the flesh, they follow its grooves trying to spot the beginning and the end. I can find neither but I do notice lines that do not belong on a brain. A large, vertical rectangle is etched into the flesh. I think it may be a door but I see no handle. Doors have handles. Even a door on a giant brain needs a handle. How would I open it? I just keep watching the brain, admiring it…what a lovely brain. I feel the urge to touch it. I think it will feel good to touch it. I slowly rise from my throne and walk towards the brain, as I get closer its grooves begin to look like the discarded intestines of giants. I stand before the brain and raise my hand in front of the door shape, trying to feel the energy around it. As I bring my hand even closer, I feel vibrations pass through my palm, shooting through my body and up into my own brain. The vibrations sing in my mind with a hundred different voices, starting louder and then fading away.
“Mind your mind. Mind your mind. Mind your mind…” They sing, not in unison, there are so many voices, they sound like echos dancing around in my mind.
I bring my hand so close I can feel moisture, a brain cloud tickling my hand. The voices intensify, getting faster and louder.
“Mindyourmind.Mindyourmind.Mindyourmind.”
I take a breath and place my hand on the brain. The voices stop. The brain feels clammy under my palm, it does not feel good like I thought it would. The brain is making my mind feel weird. I can’t place it but I feel something is wrong with the brain. I try to pull my hand away but the brain holds on, I can’t move. I don’t want to touch it anymore, something is wrong with it. I see mould beginning to line the edge of my hand, still stuck in the brain. At first just small growths, a tiny forest spreading along the flesh but then more and more begin to spread across the brain. I start to smell the mould infecting the brain, it’s a musty rotten smell. Like mouldy bread left on roadkill in the sun. I hear it sprouting through the flesh, all around the brain, my hand the epicentre of the rott. I start screaming, I grab my trapped hand with my other and use all my weight to try to release it but it’s no good, the brain has my hand as prisoner. The mould is covering the brain now, it no longer looks like a brain, it looks like a palace maze. The mould within the rectangle surrounding my hand begins to age and fragment away, in small ashen lumps, that float away from the brain. Gradually all the mould within the rectangle, floats away, releasing my hand and leaving a doorway to a galaxy in front of me. I walk through the brain door and I float into the vast network of stars around me. I float in peace, the rot left behind. I see something in the distance, I want to go to it. I’m reaching out still but my hand becomes engulfed in darkness as the stars start to fade away and go to sleep. I feel the real world drifting towards me…
I want to hold on to the peace so I keep my eyes closed for now, tangerine orange eyelids, it must be a pleasant day. Orange signals dawn but I haven’t heard my servants call to bring me breakfast yet. The smell of wild fowl omelettes cooking in the morning always travels far but as I turn and stir, waking my sleeping body, I smell nothing. Closing my eyes even tighter, I lie still and listen carefully. I can hear my breath catching but nothing else. Where is my chamberlain? Where are my butlers, my maids? I open my eyes. Everything is still blurry. I turn my head along the room. I look from wall to door, everything is in its right place, except the door, which is slightly open…that makes the silence is even stranger. I look from my door to my window, everything looks right, until my eyes reach the window. I focus on the window, my room is large so the window is quite a distance away but I can see there’s something that definitely should not be there… A small thing, on the edge of my windowsill, it’s slightly covered by my cream, gold embroidered curtains. Turns out it really is a bright, pleasant day. I raise my hand to block the light and flinch. It’s the witch’s cat. It sits there tending to its long white coat, oblivious to my presence for a while. I make a noise towards it and it darts its evil, yellow eyes towards me.
“Prrrrince.” It purrs evilly.
“Go away.” I shout.
It sits still for a while, still staring, but then it slinks off my windowsill, landing without a sound on my marble floor and saunters through the door, still piercing me with its evil eyes. I crawl to the back of my bed, holding my gold satin sheets, holding my breath. I’m fairly certain the witch has been here and she has taken everyone away. Next she’s going to try to take my mind and make me go insane. I’ve heard what she’s done to princes far and wide, she doesn’t ever kill them, she makes them lose their minds. I must have sensed her presence during the night. Mind my mind. Mind my mind. I know her cat is will follow me anywhere I go. I’m certain she is watching through the slits in its yellow eyes. First, I need to kill it and then I can escape, more likely unwatched, to somewhere safe. This palace may only have one floor, but its incredibly large, hopefully, I can still find the beastly thing fast enough. Although, killing it might be harder, I don’t know what protective spells she might have made. I need to make it to the sorcerers quarters so I can concoct some magical lassos. I know Mage Frederic used them to exterminate vermin. I remember seeing him after capturing and killing the rats in the basement. They were rabbit-sized and it looked like he’d killed more than a dozen with just one batch. I’m sure one large batch will take out her cat. I peek outside my room down my entrance corridor. My eyes travel down the family portraits lit by chandeliers, the dark wooden floors, the deep cream wallpaper covered in twisting, damask pattern. Everything looks normal but I need to be cautious, the sorcerer’s quarters are on the left at the end, that’s more than 20 steps away. Anything could happen in that amount of steps. I spot the cat’s head sneak out from inside the sorcerer’s room. It stops, only its ugly head visible, glaring straight at me again.
“It’s a lovely corridor. Prrrrrince.”
It’s still glaring at me as it slinks across the corridor. I watch it disappear, into the throne room, it’s dark shadow trailing behind in its rectangular light. Arrogant cat. I’m nervous now but I take a step into the corridor and immediately I feel like gravity has been turned up by 200%. I watch as the chandeliers float sideways and out of sight. The wooden floor coming towards me, fast. Then everything is completely black. Did I hit my head?
Darkness and silence.
Soon a familiar voice cuts through the black, echoing from the back of my mind.
“Where is your mind? Prince. Where is your mind?”
I spin around in the dark trying to locate where the voice is coming from but I see nothing but black.
“Prince.”
A giant head floats from nowhere in the black towards me and stops in front of me smiling. Her mouth looks big enough to swallow me whole.
“The mind is a funny thing, prone to long wanders, it can easily get lost but it’s lucky I’m good at losing minds…catching minds.”
She looks familiar, she doesn’t look like an evil witch from fairytales. Although her face is very pale, her hair is jet black and her face is slightly angular, she doesn’t have a crooked nose, a single wrinkle, boil or zit. Her wolf-blue eyes are hypnotic, I’m surprised that I feel she is beautiful.
The witch floats above and behind me whispering in my ear, “Will you lose your mind? I’ll keep it nice and safe for you. Prince.”
Her voice sends horrible vibrations screaming down my spine, making me shudder away.
“I have my mind, witch. Let me go.” I reply.
“Should you lose your mind? Will you lose your mind for me? Where is your mind?”
The witch keeps cackling and spiralling faster around me. She floats far away into the dark and then at impossible speed comes shooting back towards me, air shooting out around her, her laughing face almost colliding with mine, making me flinch to shield myself.
“My mind is here, get out of it!” I shout, trying to grab out at her.
I keep shouting at her to stop but she keeps speeding up, shouting faster, laughing louder and spinning around me wider.
“Whereisyourmind?Mindmindmindmind.Whereismymind?”
She starts to move so fast the darkness around me is beginning to be filled with a collection of her blurred manic faces, the black unable to realize she’s moved from her previous positions.
“Whereismymind?Whereismymind?WhereisitPrince?!”
“Right here!” I scream, banging my hands against my skull, flailing at the witch. She’s moving so fast I can’t tell where she is amongst her traces.
“Whereisit? Mymind? Whereismymind?Think.”
She continues relentlessly and doesn’t stop. This is hopeless. I stop flailing, I go down to a crouch and cover my eyes. Her voice gets louder in my ear, banging through my skull, ricocheting painfully across my brain.
“Whereismymind? Whereismymind? Whereismymind?”
“HEEERE!” I scream at the top of my voice, bent over knees, clutching my skull.
Quiet. My eyes are still closed.
Darkness, silence, stillness.
Then the witch whispers, her voice quietly echoing from somewhere far in the background of my mind.
“Okay. If you think so…”
I wake up curled, in the same position, still shouting. Still hearing the echo of her voice from somewhere. I stay in the position for a while longer, shielding myself from the world. I need to have a pause, ease my mind, before I force myself towards the sorcerer’s quarters. I’ve never been in the sorcerer’s quarters. I was told never to enter because only the mages are used to the toxic fumes, there are some that can make you believe your own fingers are delicious venison sausages. The head mage told me an apprentice mage once sneaked in on his own to try an illegal spell and he ate all his toes thinking they were baby carrots. I know there are no fumes right now but the thought of eating my own toes makes me cup my face while I look around the room. It’s a typical sorcerer’s quarter dark and danky with allsorts of alchemist ingredients dangling from the beams above: garlic cloves, lavender, whole frogs, wolf ears, human toes etc. but the sorcerer’s quarters are not in their typical state, it is in a disgusting, putrid state. There are cauldrons filled with the remnants of past potions, stacked up and teeming with maggots.The whole room stinks of mould and death. I had to have been asleep for longer than a night. From the look of the room, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d been asleep for a month. I put my hand on the wooden bench, still cupping my face and take a breath. I need to find and magically infuse the lassos soon, before the witch strikes again. I start to slump around the room, the rotten stench is making it hard to concentrate. Every cupboard I open gifts me with something nicely decaying. My mouth is becoming filled with hot saliva, that’s starting to taste like the smells around the room. I was hoping for at least three sets of lassos but I’ve only found one. I don’t know if they will be enough to kill the cat. Although, there is plenty of poison to magically infuse them with. The lassos are solid, pale blonde, unmoving sticks of small rope at the moment. Not hard enough to spear the cat and not nimble enough to strangle it. They need to be heated for a while. I use the only cauldron without maggots and begin to heat the lassos. I pick up the magical poison, it’s fairly heavy and in a big white jug with a hundred warning signs across the back of it. Inside there is a blue, strong smelling liquid that makes my head spin. I don’t know how to concoct spells but I guess I should wait for the lassos to become flexible and cool a while, instead of heating up the dangerous poison. The fumes could make me eat my fingers. I wait several minutes for the lassos to look more flexible. Then I turn off the fire and carefully start adding the blue liquid to the mixture. As I add more and more of the poison, I notice my lungs have started to burn slightly. I back away coughing and notice a thin yellow-green gas lining the edge of the cauldron. Mistake. I should have let the boiling liquid cool down first. Keeping my hand firmly across my coughing face, I fling the mixture across the room. Lassos are splattered across the dark stone floor, as the cauldron clangs and limply rolls over. I keep coughing and holding my breath as I grab the poison flask and throw all of the mixture on top of the lassos. Patiently, I watch for a few minutes. In first minute there is no movement but soon the mass of lassos start to wriggle and writhe violently with new life. I keep my distance because with their current energy, I don’t doubt that they would try to strangle me. After a few more minutes they start to calm down and begin to crawl towards me, their master, like friendly worms. I rush over to bring them a large pewter bowl and coax them gently inside.
“Master of magical lassos, what shall we do?” They shriek happily in unison, as they crawl into the bowl.
“I want you to strangle the witch’s cat.”
They start to chant together, “Strangle the witch’s cat. Strangle witch’s cat. Where is it at? We will be happy to strangle the witch’s cat. Strangle it. Mangle it. Strangle the witch’s cat. Yes of course, for you master…”
I look down at them in the bowl, all curled up together, smiling, repeating the chant over and over monotonously. I feel a bit freaked out but hopeful.
“Strangle the witch’s cat. Mangle it. Strangle it. Strangle the…”
I clutch my bowl of poisonous chanting lassos and peek out again along the corridor. I can see the throne room door, directly across, is slightly more open than it was before. I have a feeling the cat has a liking to the throne room chairs. I take a step into the corridor but again gravity plummets me down to the floor sending my lassos screaming and flying through the air. I feel myself kiss the floor.
Black again.
In the complete darkness all I can see is a purple, cloaked figure, lit in the distance by an invisible spotlight. They are facing away from me. I walk forwards towards them, I begin to hear soft crying.
“Prince…I want… to..help.. You..prince.” Their words escape between distant sobs.
I know who it will be but I step curiously forward, the folds in their purple cloak start to become visible, then I stop to listen.
“I want… to..hold… your..mind… Just let…me hold it…”
As I move closer, I recognize the sobbing voice. Of course, it’s her. She’s trying to trap my mind again. Her figure continues to jerk up and down with sobbing. I storm forwards into the darkness, heart pounding with anger, to confront her. She senses me coming. I see her body go stiff, she stops crying, her voice now has a razor-sharp edge.
“You’re not listening! Your mind is dying Prince. Let me keep it safe…”
I don’t let her finish. I grab her roughly by her purple shoulder and drag her around to face me. I gasp, her eyes are completely black. She’s cackling loudly. Her eyes are so black, they are like mirrors and I see a skeletal corpse in their surface. I pull my hands up to touch my eyelids, the reflection does the same, I feel no eyelids. Screaming. Laughing. My fingers frantically search around and around in dry, empty sockets looking for eyes. Screaming. Louder laughing. I scream louder and grab the witch by the throat. I hear her laughs get caught in her throat.
“Let go of my mind! Let go! Let me go!”I scream and I see the corpse in her black eyes, its jaw angrily shaking around, bits of bone dropping away.
I start screaming and shaking her around like a rag doll. She continues screaming with choked laughter. The shaking makes her purple gown fall away, revealing her pale, nude body. The shock of her naked body, makes me pause and the witch takes advantage. She deftly grabs my hand from her neck and shoots up her other hand, slicing a long purple fingernail down my wrist. Blood starts pouring out of the wound. She grabs my bleeding wrist and pulls it roughly towards her breasts.
“WITCH!” She screams, drawing the letter W with my bloody wrist across her breasts.
I want to struggle but the shock keeps me immobile so I watch in horror. She pauses holding my wrist laughing. The pause gives me chance to come around. I try to pull my wrist away but she snaps it towards her face and licks it, leaving a trail of blood flowing down her chin.
“WITCH!” She screams, yanking my wrist in a straight I line, down across her howling face. She licks it again as it passes over her smiling, blood-covered mouth and reaches the bottom of her pale, blood crusted chin.
“WITCH!” I feel myself scream.
The witch is gone. I don’t feel her hand on my wrist anymore. My eyes open and I see my wrist finishing a T across my cream, corridor wall. I flinch my hand away, screaming loudly. I throw the bloody shard of glass in my other hand away and stare at the deep gash in my wrist, cradling it in my other bloody hand. I’m shivering with fear and pain. I feel like pain. I’m in pain in so many places, I can’t work out which places are in pain. I look around, all the pictures along the corridor are now destroyed, on the wooden floor, covered in blood, poison and lassos. In their place is the word WITCH scrawled all over the corridor wall, in my own blood. I can feel bits of glass piercing me all over my body. I notice I can feel my skin burning everywhere, the poison must have been scattered around the corridor. I can’t control my breathing. It’s making the room fade in and out with dark spots. I hear small voices, I notice a few remnants of lassos nearby.
“Master…Master…” I hear a whimper.
I turn my head and see a poor, little lasso half crawling nearby. It looks painfully into my eyes. I need to see if there are many, if any, still intact. I need kill the cat and get out of this palace before she drives me insane…drives me more insane.
“Strangle… the.. Cat..” It chokes out, then it goes limp.
In the side of my vision I can see several other lassos close to death crawling around, many missing parts, many in half. The large, metal bowl is on its side a few metres away. I can see about half the set of lassos are still in the bowl, cradling each other and chanting limply. The smell of poison, blood and suffering fills the air around me. I feel suffocated and in pain but I pull myself up and crawl along the debris to grab the bowl. I sit and cradle the cold, metal bowl, rocking it backwards and forwards. It’s my last chance for freedom, my chance at sanity. I look down at the lassos and they look up, chanting tiredly.
“Master…we are not many, only few but we’ll happily strangle the cat for you. Strangle. Strangle. Mangle the cat.”
“Where is my mind?” A voice whispers again from the back of my mind.
I grab the bowl and rush towards the throne room before the witch invades my mind again. The door is ajar, I slowly push it open, cradling my brave, chanting lassos. I look straight towards my throne and as I felt the cat is curled up in the middle, a white mass, in the middle of my large red, satin throne. It’s head slowly rises and it is now looking directly at me.
“Those lassos might kill rats but I am no rat, Prrrrince.”
There’s still some arrogance left in its eyes, all cats are slightly arrogant, but I can see fear too in its evil, yellow eyes. It does not stir, it just carries on staring at me. I bring my hand, not losing eye contact, into my bowl of magical, chanting lassos. My hand is shaking but I am encouraged by the lassos’ supportive chants.
“Yes, master. Yes, Prince. Strangle. Mangle the cat.”
The cat edges further towards the edge of the throne, it’s white hairs bristling violently. I still don’t know what power the evil thing might unleash, when truly threatened, but I take a breath and throw a handful of lassos towards the cat. They fly through the air, still chanting happily, as they launch towards the bristling cat. Right before impact, the cat screeches and bristles its white hairs in to razor-sharp needles, so sharp they are impenetrable by the lassos. My aim is off so half of the lassos miss and crawl along the edges of the blood-red throne, they squirm around it looking and sounding like oversized, unhappy maggots. The others do not manage to get to the cat’s throat as they cannot penetrate its long white, bristling fur and instead remain disappointedly stuck and crawling along its neck. The cat looks smugly towards me, dips its head and slurps away all of the lassos from across its body. I watch in shock and disappointment but then I am the one who starts to feel smug.
“They tastier than they are deadly.” Hisses the cat.
It seems arrogant but then it begins to choke violently. I start laughing but then I realize I have an opening. I charge towards the choking cat, flinging all of the lassos towards it. If they can’t strangle it, they might manage to dangerously poison it. The cat is now swamped, with raging lassos, but still it manages to clamber off the throne, lassos in tow, before I can annihilate it. I try to lunge for it but I end up landing on my throne chair. I stay head first slumped, face cradling red satin, not turning to look after the cat, before pulling myself up to slouch into the throne. I’m too tired to chase it straight away and suddenly in my throne chair I feel peace. I sit for a long time, staying so still and staring so straight my eyes start to go funny. I feel so at peace in the throne that my body slumps further into the chair, so much it feels like it is starting to sink through the red velvet. I feel like I should fight it, I’ve got a cat to kill, a mind to save, a witch to escape from, but I chose not to because it feels too good. I take a deep breath and lean into the madness. The throne cradles me in return, holding me in place. The room begins to fade away, my eyelids flickering between the room and darkness. Soon they slow, the room a blink, the tiredness is winning, soon there is nothing but darkness around. I can’t feel my body so much now, just a strange feeling of waves where it should be.
Darkness again.
A voice, speaks softly through the darkness,“There’s too much pain here. You can float to distant lands, leave your body far behind.”
I see stars shyly start to flicker and glow around the darkness. They seem scared of me but they grow brave as I feel peace deepening and I begin to feel like I’m floating through space. Strange vibrations fill my insides, I can hear them and feel them all around. Not like sound, the sound of a feeling. Similar to the sounds of sensing someone is stood close behind or the person you like is looking your way. Spine tingling. The stars become braver and they fly around me, through me, with me. I can’t tell if I’m moving or they are, or both.
The voice speaks again, “You don’t know you anymore. You don’t need your mind right now. Float here for a while, let me help you find your mind. Stay right here and travel safe and far. Where does your mind want to go?”
I think and my thought immediately comes into existence. A sphere of water appears amongst the stars in the far distance. I think towards it and without either of us moving, the stars travel by bringing us closer. I gasp as I feel myself cross the watery membrane and become submerged in the centre of the watery sphere. I feel warmth surround me. The water around me casts a slowly vibrating, pastel-blue veil across the galaxy behind. I think to myself if the womb felt this good, I’m sad I left. I stay curled up in my warm, watery space womb and begin to forget about the world. I stay there, at peace, suspended in space. Time seems like an imaginary concept, infinite, never-ending. I imagine a small golden clock with its hands moving and whirring past fast. The hands getting faster and faster, until they become invisible and soundless. I watch as all the stars fly by me slowly and then, like the clock, they zoom past faster, until it looks like thousands of years of space are passing me by in beautiful streams of white, purple and yellow. I feel the vibration of my being, no happiness, no pain, something and nothing. I stay in peace, unmoving, ignoring that there is any other reality. I Close my eyes and I don’t feel where I am anymore.
Nowhere is bliss.
I could stay nowhere.
But after a while, I feel a buzz running through my body like a bee next to ear. Now, I feel deeply irritated…my womb is being invaded. I can feel the vibration of something close to me. Spine-buzzing. I frown and scrunch my eyes, I don’t want to look but the buzzing bothers me so I open my eyes and nearly choke on non-existent water. The witch’s cat is glaring at me from the galaxy outside. Its head is the size of a baby meteor, looming in front of the galaxy, bloated by my spheres watery membrane. I feel like a goldfish in my granny’s little fishbowl. It moves its head while it glares at me and it’s left yellow eye balloons like a giant sun in hell. I see it start to raise its paw and I panic. I don’t want to leave my warm, watery space womb. I feel like its giant paw could easily scrape my brain out for breakfast but I sigh as the paw breaks through the membrane, its just an ordinary sized cat paw. The other paw pokes through and now the cat looks like a demented feline t-rex. I curl up tighter and try to ignore the abomination in front but it’s too late the real world has re-entered my mind now. I start to see the stars fading and shooting away in all directions. The darkness starts to recede back into my throne room. I keep curling up tighter and trying to keep peace. I feel that I’m screaming but it’s silent in my womb. The cat moves closer and one of its paws moves towards my face. I see the paw coming towards me in slow-motion. Dread fills me, I know that paw will break my reality. Paw touches cheek.
Pop.
My watery womb explodes around me and the cat. In a gentle, burst. Everything seems to pause. The water has splattered in hundreds of directions across the vast area of space. I stay in the centre, feeling cold and exposed, not taking a breath. Hoping, somehow, I can hold onto this world but everything bursts apart simultaneously. The water rockets away into space, while the space fades out and slowly, the background of my throne room fades in. I struggle to focus my eyes and mind to the real world and realise the weight on my lap is the cat. Its evil head blurs into focus. It is still pawing my face. Its taunting me. I’m too angry to move. I want to be in back in my warm, space womb. I want to kill the cat. I again try to lunge for it but it screeches, jumps away and darts out of the room. I go to run after it but I have to steady myself on the side of the chair, I realise I’m not in a much better state than the cat. I can’t stand properly, my body has gone dead and my eyes hurt from the light. I must have been in that throne for a long time. This is going to be a real face-off. I shudder, the witch will know I am close to killing her cat and she will try to finally crack open and pick out my fragile mind but I know where my mind is. My mind is here and she cannot take it away from me. She’s tried twice and failed, she’s going to fail again. She can keep trying forever but she will fail. I know my mind. I will kill her cat. I pulled myself towards the corridor. I look out and just catch the back end of the cat, its white tail wisping through the dining room doorway. I carefully dip my big toe onto the corridor. Nothing happens so I take a breath and step in, my foot crushing shards of glass. Everything stays normal. I feel like she might be cooking up some mental three-course meal down insanity mountain in the dining room. I carefully walk along the corridor, glass cracking under foot, an occasional lasso yelping as I stand on its limp body. The dining room door is slightly open so I peek in first, slightly pushing the door as I peek.The room looks normal. I can’t see the cat yet but I can hear it making low moans. I begin to see the edge of the dining room table and as the door opens enough, I see the white and blue, lasso ridden cat sprawled across the table. The poison must have weakened it. I walk slowly towards the cat and sit on a chair across from it. I should feel pleased but as it looks over to me, it’s eyes don’t look evil at all. I feel like it’s yellow eyes are filled with suffering and sadness. Weirdly, I actually feel the urge to stroke it and cry. I might not like the witch’s cat but it’s still a living thing and now it looks vulnerable. It isn’t even talking anymore, just making low moans. I sit with it for several minutes, hoping it will die and be away from pain but it keeps living. I feel stupid, why should I pity it? The witch is probably laughing as she watches through its eyes. After a while, I can’t stand to watch it suffer and moan any longer so I grab a steak knife from the table and go to finish it…my hand freezes, I’ve never killed an animal. The cat is still looking at me, unfazed by the knife, it doesn’t move. Its eyes are so full of pain, I feel like it is asking without saying anything. I cry out and start stabbing the cat several times in the stomach, each stab drawing out a howl of pain, splatters of warm blood hit my face. I continue until the stabs have no response. I let the knife drop from my bloody hands and try to wipe the blood from my face but end up smearing on more from my hands. I stare at the cat, limp and covered in lassos, blue poison and holes. I don’t feel much anymore, I feel slightly dead. Deader than the cat. I sit and drop my head.
“Where is your mind.” I snap my head up.
A whisper…It sounded like it was coming from the cat but the cat remains still. I lower my head closer to the cat.
“I think my brain is mouldy.”
I recoil. A whisper again, it sounds like it is coming from inside the cat’s head. I stare at the cat’s head.
“Look…” The cat’s paw moves up. I try to spring out of the chair but I can’t, I feel strapped in. I look for straps, there are no straps. The paw scrapes open the cat’s head, showing the edge of a pink-green brain. I keep struggling. I’m not passed out or asleep. I feel sick. The paw pulls away the rest of the surrounding head, making a slurping sound, easily, like it’s fresh pancake. Then I gag, the paw starts slowly, in delicate circles, stroking the stinking, rotting brain.
“Try it Prrrrrinceee. I think…” I start to pass out before the dead cat can finish. I feel myself alone in the complete darkness again, I feel that I am sat and strapped down into a chair. I pull my arms and look down at them they’re strapped to the metal handles of the chair. Metal with leather straps, It looks like an asylum chair. My legs are tightly bound too. I try to swing the chair by struggling but it is chained down to the darkness, immovable, invisible chains holding it down. Her face appears again but this time she doesn’t look threatening or gleeful, she looks slightly sad.
“Where is my mind?”
Her unhappy face morphs into the watery sphere and the scene from before is brought back to complete reality. The calm, watery sphere floating in the middle of endless space. Every star in the same place. All I have to do is call it with my thoughts and we’ll move back together. I can curl inside it, feel peace, forget my pain and forget myself. I want to call it so much…It’s not real though. It’s not reality. I don’t want her to win. I know my mind.
“Don’t you want to let go of your mind? Lose yourself? Go back to the beginning?” Whispers the witch.
I begin to answer her with my mind. I imagine the watery sphere with a red seed emerging slowly in the centre of its blue womb. The seed shoots out creeping, red veins towards its outer membrane, slow at first, like tree roots on time lapse, but then faster, more violent, the veins keep multiplying splitting, throbbing, faster and faster, more and more veins. The sphere is becoming covered in a network of red veins, the blue becoming engulfed. Soon all the water is engulfed and the entire sphere turns into a mass of floating blood. Then I imagine lassos invading the sphere, they look like giant angry maggots, strangling it, choking any remaining water out of it. I watch as drops of water, fall away. I feel sadness and anger. I want to curl up again in the sphere but she brought me to it, she woke me. Now I have to destroy it.
“Destroy that sphere and you’ll lose your mind. Then it will be mine.” Spoke the witch.
I look at the floating, blood sphere throbbing in the middle of space and my anger boils. It’s mine, I know my mind. I scream loudly with it. Long and loud, so loud all the stars stop moving and begin to shake and die with my piercing noise. They are shutting down like broken lamps all around me, many of them beginning to burst loudly. I scream louder still, making the blood-filled sphere shake, so it begins quivering like frightened strawberry jelly. I feel I need to scream louder with my mind to destroy it. I scream mentally with all the force I have inside me, I can feel the chair slightly struggling, even though held by powerful invisible chains. I feel I’m screaming so loud, if I was in space, all the planets and stars would smash like cheap ceramic. All the stars began to flicker violently, the pressure building up inside of them, making a high-pitched screaming sound to match my own. Then with a galaxy filling screech, everything silently bursts. I catch a glimpse of the sphere exploding in all directions, I feel the cold blood drench my body, a whoosh as the blood drains into space, before everything goes back into darkness.
Darkness and silence.
Then her voice whispers from within.
“I told you you’d lose your mind, Prince.”
In the middle of the darkness a spotlight turns on and faintly lights the space.
“I haven’t lost my mind. Its right here.” I say, tiredly, my head slumped down.
Silence.
The light intensifies.
“Shall we open your head and see?”
“I don’t want to..”
I feel my mouth gagged by an invisible force and I struggle as I watch the metal limbs of my asylum chair, extend into living, metal, limbs. They make a teeth-grinding screech as they grow outwards. The spotlight follows their growth, making sure I won’t miss anything. They grow into a mass of metal tentacles, thinner and many at their ends. They begin crawling around aimlessly around the darkness, as if blind but looking for their prey.
“Open his mind,” whispers the witch.
The spotlight burns brightly and directly towards me, making their heads snap round with a metallic snap. Their heads all face me, frozen in the darkness, like a hundred, tiny metal daggers ready to launch.
“Open his mind.”
The daggers dart towards my skull. I silently scream as I hear them metalically clattering and drilling around my skull, making incisions. I don’t feel pain but I feel the weight of my brain pulled out from behind my skull. The tentacles, delicately, cradle my freshly removed brain directly in front of my eyes. My brain in front of my eyes. Hot bile fills my mouth. I quickly clamp shut my eyes but then some other tentacles rush to behave like eye clamps forcing them open. I am forced to be viewer as the tentacles slice a doorway into my brain.The tentacles slowly and carefully open the door, immediately, images begin to fly from inside and scatter around, quickly filling the dark. An image files directly into my eyeballs and suddenly I am completely immersed in a film from inside my mind…
A brightly lit hospital room. Beeping and whirring of machines surrounds me. I can smell the sterility but I can also smell fish. I look down, my gloved hands are shaking violently and clutching scalpels. Below me is a fish on oxygen, split open, baring its guts.
“We’re going to lose it Prince.” Shouts her voice.
The beeping gets louder.
“You need to look in its mind, I think it’s going mouldy.”
I don’t want to open its mind but the film keeps playing. I can’t control this dream. My hands move forwards and I nervously cut at the fish head opening it up. Watery green liquid escapes from the gouge, filling my nose with the smell of rotten swamps.
“Eat it Prince.”
I pull out the brain and my hands force the smelly mass into my mouth. I feel my teeth crush down on its soft mind and taste the bitter, rotten flavour. I can’t see the hospital room anymore instead I’m inside my mouth now, watching the fish brain being broken apart, into small mushy chunks. I follow the chunks and my mind rides them, following them down my gagging throat. I can hear the sounds of my retching, they make the ride stormy. My insides are shaking us around as we travel down through my body.
“I think it needs water Prince.”
I stop at a deep pink fleshy entrance. The fish parts float around me and bob around to the rhythm of my still retching body. I stare as the flesh opens up, like an anal theatre curtain, revealing a scenery destroyed by a tranquil, never-ending blood red sea. The opening pulls me and the fish brain parts out into the blood sea. The fish brain slowly floats out into the crimson ocean before me, floating peacefully but then I after a while I see it beginning to rapidly reconnect itself. I soon notice it is not restructuring itself back into a fish, I realise with horror that it is reconnecting itself into a mushed-up looking fetus. Once everything is connected, It floats, still, on the water, against a beautiful, blue sky horizon. I scream inside as the things head turns and smiles at me using a trail of mould.
“Fish need water Prince. They can’t be born in blood silly.”
The thing starts laughing loudly, while opening up its mushed up head to reveal another larger, rotten brain. Still laughing, It points to its own brain and tickles it with a deformed finger, sending bits of brain and mould across the water and dripping down itself.
“I think my mind is mouldy prince. Can you see? Taste it, it’s rotten.” The thing laughs.
I don’t want to go through it again. Eating another brain. I fight with all my mind not to grab it and eat it.
“Oh dear, you don’t want to? Well you better eat your own.” It says.
I hear the sound of a plug being pulled. Suddenly all of the sea began to drain. The thing roughly shoves its brain more securely in and grabs my hand as we begin to follow the draining of the sea towards an underwater hole. It gives me a mouldy smile before pulling me down with the blood into the black hole. I see two figures fall through a bloody hole in the ceiling. It looks like the ceiling is giving birth to a demented fetus and a blood drenched prince. Then I find myself sat at a simple, wooden dining table. The fetus is sat across from me head first, munching violently, in a bowl of raw fish. It lifts its head out to speak, chunks of fish dropping across the table below.
“Where is your mind? Prince.”
It pulls its brain out again, displaying its mouldy insides. I keep staring at the mouldy brain. The mould is moving across the brain, like little termites. I find myself unable to stop staring at it.
“Stop staring at mine. Where is yours?”
The fetus completely freezes in place, mid tickling its brain. Fish parts continue to fall down its face but it remains completely still. I stare for a few more minutes but the thing stays still. I cautiously get up and take look around the room, it’s drenched in blood but I faintly recognize it, I feel like I might have visited the room a long time ago, probably as a child. It is no way as luxurious as my dining room, there is no gold, not even a touch of silver, the closest is the metal cutlery in front of me. The walls are a deep brown, the floor looks like fake wood. Almost, everything is plain and simple, boring. I notice there are only a few decorative items. A large wooden cabinet, I can see through the glass doors that it is filled with images and statues of white cats and a large purple chair facing a greatly embellished long mirror. I feel like the chair and mirror are out of place, they are not boring. They are too grand for the room. They’d be more suited in my own dining room, not in this sad place.
“Sit and look at your brain.” Whispers the fetus.
I turn but it remains still. I turn back and see a figure in the mirror moving slowly towards the chair and sitting down. I look in the mirror and I feel like the figure is me, same size, same long gown but their facial features keep morphing and transforming so I can’t identify with the face I am looking at. I move my hands slowly upwards to touch my face and so does the figure. I touch my hair and so does the figure. I keep doing different things but nothing makes me feel like the figure is me so I sit in front of the mirror and just stare at it. I begin to notice I can feel heat travelling all across my body, soon after gentle wisps of smoke start to rise up and make my eyes water. I try to jump out of the chair but I find my hands and legs are now bound with the same straps as the metal chair. I keep struggling, the heat is starting to increase. I look in the mirror again, everything is the same, apart from the figure has a mouth that is shaped like it is laughing. I look down across myself, my gown is on fire in several places, it’s beginning to burn and fall apart. I look in the mirror again, still everything is the same, apart from the figure is sat calmly stroking the witch’s cat. The heat is getting intense now. My hands are being cut by the straps. I feel myself screaming.
“Eat your brain then.” Whispers the fetus from behind.
The figure in the mirror, now completely naked, gently puts down the witch’s cat and pulls open his head to reveal a pink, ordinary brain. It gently plucks the brain out and stands up, walking slowly towards me. Flames are circling the space between us and dark smoke is filling the small room but the figure passes calmly through to my side of the mirror. The smoke and fire retract peacefully away, as he moves to bring the brain right in front of my eyes.
“Eat your brain.”
I feel like I can smell my own flesh simmering now but I’ll burn before I eat that figures brain. The figure moves the brain closer to my face so it’s almost touching my nose.
“Get it away, It’s not my brain!”
The figure morphs frowning eyebrows and I scream as it lunges for my head. I feel all the insides of my burning head being pulled out. A pile of what looks like rotten flesh is in his other hand now, it doesn’t even resemble a brain, it looks worse than the mould ridden ooze of both the fish and the baby. It is so decayed that it is dripping through his hands and I can smell it though the smoke.
“Eat your brain.”
“Neither of them are my brains!”
The figure cries and throws both brains hard against the burning floor and they explode into blood. I begin to cry, struggle and scream. My scream doesn’t end. I’m screaming through my eyeballs. Screaming through the fish covered fetus. Screaming through the walls. The entire room begins to crack and shake with my screams, blood streaming in through the cracks and down the screaming, brown walls. I scream at the pain of fire tearing through my legs. I scream harder and close my eyes to the nightmare and I feel myself becoming lost. Darkness. Screaming. More darkness and endless screaming, until I feel myself becoming nothing more, than a scream in the dark.
The man woke up screaming and started rolling around frantically, he was in the middle of a flame ridden room his legs badly on fire. He could barely see but he could not recognize anything in the room. He was struggling to work out in his burning mind were the door would be. The man kept rolling and screaming, while grabbing at the edges of the burning room trying to find a gap. He finally found the door and rolled himself around in a corridor covered with glass but wet with blood and bleach. The fire across his body was stopped, he lay there in too much pain and exhaustion to move. Luckily, not too long after several firemen burst through the door and dragged the man, with no mind, out into the world. They managed to contain and stop the fire in the dining room. Once the smoke began to clear, they were deeply disturbed by the state of the man’s bungalow. The man was rushed to hospital, they struggled to find out who he was, he didn’t seem to know.
Epilogue
Zara paused in front of the bungalow, her eyes sore, her mind in pain. She thought back to the first time she stood in front of the bungalow, Marc was holding her tight by her side, smiling. It never had and never would be anything fancy, just one bedroom, a small corridor and a few cramped rooms but it made them excited.
It’s a pile of shit but it’s our pile of shit.
They laughed at how shit it was but it made them happy. She walked through the garden towards the door, now it was overgrown, covered with weeds and cat shit but back then it was beautiful with flowers she had spent hours tending to. She even made miniature fairytale people to sit, peacefully, beside the flowers. She looked around and saw that most of these lay either broken or mouldy and rejected in the soil now. She reached the door and already she couldn’t stop crying again. She felt she had to see but she knew if she opened the door, all the happier memories she had with him would be gone and these were all she really had left of him, he was nowhere anymore. She struggled to push the key into the door and found it even harder to make herself open it but in the end, there came a soft click. Slowly, she pushed open the door. The smell hit her first before her brain could handle the madness, she screamed and turned away holding herself against the doorway to retch. For several minutes she stayed like this, unable to move or think properly. The scene was burnt into her mind, she didn’t feel ready to look again. The wooden floor was covered in a mixture of ash, blood, glass, spaghetti and blue stuff; which she guessed from the smell was bleach. Mingled in with the muck was all the pictures of them together in the past. The corridor was the longest wall in the house and from the very first week they chose it as a place to show all their favourite memories. In better times, when new guests came in they used to gush at their compliments and both love explaining the story behind any picture. Now Zara couldn’t bring herself to think of what the memories were. Now they were just two doomed people drowning in blood, ash and bleach. Now the walls held no happy memories, instead the word WITCH was scrawled all over the walls, Zara felt sick thinking it might be in blood.
Witch… I tried Marc. I couldn’t do anything more.You were leaving long before I left.
Zara stayed leaning on the wall for a while longer, letting her mind race and hurt, then she took a breath and tried to still her mind.
Okay, it can’t get much worse. keep breathing Zara. Take a breath.
Zara doubted this, she was set on facing the dining room first, where the fire was started. She stood in the middle of the ashen room, staring, still crying, hypnotized by what was left of her cat.
He always, always hated that cat. I thought it would give him company…How fucking stupid.
Then she started laughing and crying at the same time, softly at first and then she had to clutch on to the side of the table to balance herself. She slumped to the floor, tiredly laughing and crying. She went quiet after a while, head in arms, breathing slowly. She started to think about the state the cat was in, it wasn’t just burnt, it had been torn apart and something missing, its br…Don’t think. Think about something else. She looked across the ashen room and remembered that it didn’t look much better before. They didn’t have much to make things look nice, the only thing decorative was a cabinet, which she filled with images of her cat and her cat sculptures. Marc wasn’t the biggest fan of it.
“We have the stupid thing, why do you need a shrine to it? Its still living.”
She remembered him pinching her sides and joking.
Sickly ironic. Zara thought, picturing the cat above her.
She didn’t fancy spending any longer in the ashen room. They never spent so much time in the room anyway, except to eat. It was an ugly, brown room and she couldn’t think of many pretty memories the fire had destroyed. It was the “throne” room that worried her, most of her memories of him good and bad were collected in the throne room. Zara nervously pushed open the door and sighed in relief. Apart from a mass of bleach smelling spaghetti, the room was intact. She looked straight to the far corner of the room were the thrones should be. His red throne was spaghetti ridden but hers was untouched. The purple was still a lovely, deep violet. She cried as she realized, unlike everything else in the room, it looked like it had actually been cleaned often. They were the only thing in the house that they spent real money on, they spent a lot of time in the “throne” room together so they felt like in their shit little bungalow, they should have somewhere to pretend to be grand. Zara went to sit in her violet throne. She cried as she remembered them joking about being royalty in their corner together, laughing at the peasantry of the rest of the room. Zara was happy, she didn’t really care that it was just pretend and she knew Marc was satisfied at the start too but over the years she began to realize that somewhere inside he was so set on being a grander person and having grander things for them. It was only near the end she realized not succeeding would destroy him and she wouldn’t be enough to help him. It took her a long time to realize. He never, even until she left, showed his mind breaking. Every time their new dream would fail, they would be sat in the throne room sombre for a while but it wouldn’t be long until they were laughing again and dreaming up something new together in their thrones. At first because of bad ideas but then just bad luck, they kept failing miserably. It was getting harder to handle, Zara would sit in her throne and struggle but still manage to laugh it off. She felt the disappointment but she put up a membrane to the failure, it would not rot away her insides. Marc responded differently, he began to withdraw from her and everything. She could tell he was trying to escape, she was losing him to somewhere else. He seemed so calm but she knew he was bottling up, trying to contain himself somewhere calm, trying to stop himself from exploding and falling into darkness but often his calm facade would break, especially if she tried to talk to him about it. She sat motionless, replaying to herself the last time she had tried to talk to him…
It wasn’t raining at the time but it was a winter, sombre, a completely white skied day. I was staring at the trees outside, their skeletal silhouettes leaning against the lifeless sky. We were sat together silent on our thrones. I turned to look towards him, I could tell he knew I was staring. I hoped he would lift his head from his silence and say something. I hoped he would smile but that never was a thing anymore.
“Marc…please will you talk to me.”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“I don’t think you’re happy anymore.”
“I’m happy.” Marc said the words but his face remained blank.
“You don’t ever look happy anymore.”
“I’M HAPPY.”
He frowned now and he still didn’t return my gaze but I didn’t want to give up.
“Do you remember when we used to sit in these thrones and laugh at..”
“In several years we still live in a shit hole. We’re going nowhere. Still all we have is these stupid chairs.”
God, I wanted to cry and strangle him. I pictured strangling him to death, while crying but I didn’t. I tried to stay calm.
“You love these chairs… we have each other, we have a home…I know it would be nice to have more but a lot of happiness is being grateful for things. It’s not wrong to wish for more but don’t let it upset you when you don’t get it.”
“You’re high on incense from that stupid meditation class. Why should you be happy? I’m a failure, I can’t give you anything.”
He still wasn’t looking at me. I tried to stay calm but I’m human, I lost it. I wish I hadn’t.
“WE’RE a failure. Every time you fail or stumble I fail too. It hurts me. Its hurting me right now. I am losing you and I’m trying to help you but you aren’t helping. We sit in these thrones together like old times but I feel like I’m sitting with a dying person. You don’t laugh…you don’t cry…you’re blank..like the sky outside, lifeless. You just sit quietly, dying inside and when I try to reach out to you…suddenly, you’re a fucking volcano shitting on the thrones we loved…why can’t you just pull yourself together and get over our failures. They don’t matter. You’re ruining what we have. You’re hurting me.”
Marc didn’t move but I could see in his eyes something inside did. I remember I calmed down and then I instantly felt guilty.
Pull yourself together…I was a witch right there. I can’t blame myself, I was just upset, I tried to help, I wanted to help but I just ended with saying exactly the wrong things.
We both sat in silence. I started sobbing, a lonely echo, filling the silent room. I had to break it, the guilt was killing me.
“I’m sorry Marc…I’m losing it. I just want to see you happy again…I don’t know what to do…I know you think they’re stupid but we should go to the classes together or something else.. Maybe…you should apply for therapy, some real help. I’m trying, I’m trying so hard but I’m not helping you enough. We both need help.”
Marc still had pain in his eyes but he remained in his bubble.
“I’m not crazy. I don’t need stupid classes. I don’t need therapy. I don’t help. I don’t need anything… I don’t think I need you.”
I was shocked at how calmly he said the last sentence. It had shot me in the chest. It felt like he’d crushed all of the air out of me. I felt unable to speak at the time. I couldn’t talk properly past the tears that shook me around.
She thought now about how he’d said I don’t “think” I need you.
He wasn’t thinking properly. Really, deep inside, he felt he needed my help. He was playing with it out of anger and then felt he couldn’t take it back..
Zara looked towards his red, spaghetti covered throne.
You could have taken it back. I wish so much you did.
She turned away and closed her eyes, forcing warm tears down her face. She remembered that she’d pulled herself out of her throne and kneeled crying on the floor below him but he had refused to even look towards her. She’d gently took hold of his hand, he didn’t pull it away but it stayed there not holding hers in return.
“Please, come back Marc. Try to remember how happy we used to be. It’s not impossible to be happy like that again. If it’s me that makes you unhappy…If you don’t want me…and you really do want me to leave you alone…then I will go…but I don’t think it’s me, I think it’s yourself… Let me help.”
“I know my mind, I’m fine. It’s you…I don’t want you. I want you to leave.”
So, heartbroken, she left. She thought she’d just give him space. She didn’t plan on being gone for more than a day. She was certain he would change his mind but she was wrong, he wouldn’t answer to her when she tried to call or came to his door. She loved him still so she’d kept trying for such a long time, until it was killing her too, so she let go. She thought back to the last time she tried. She was crying hysterically, frantically bashing every door and window she could, screaming out at him. When finally he responded to her for the first time in months, by shouting out:
“Go away…witch.”
Zara devastated and guilt ridden, finally went away. She began to believe that maybe she’d done something to him and he really was better without her but after the fire Zara found out people had seen him but no one had spoken to him properly in a year, the last month he had not been seen leaving the house. Since he’d lost her, he’d had no one. In the end, not even himself. Zara sat in the chair and cried. She realized it really was just his fragile mind, not her.
He’d been stewing in his own dirt alone, his mind and everything around rotting but he still looked after my throne. While his mind was leaving him, before he forgot me, he probably dreamt about me sitting beside him again, both of us smiling and laughing like before.
Zara hoped, that even though he was gone from this reality, that she had lost him completely, that he was dreaming and finally happy again somewhere else.
Happily ever after?
Insanity, the rules of the world transform and change, you can imagine and believe in impossible realities. Like fiction, like imagination, there are no boundaries.
Two nurses stand together, crammed close, looking through the small window of a door.
“He’s still not talking but I think he’s still smiling.” Said one nurse, pushing against the other to get a better view. “Yep…he’s smiling.”
“I think, he’s off on vacation somewhere else. He may come back but…maybe he’s better off staying there. I don’t know…he looks happy.” Said the other nurse, taking another glimpse, then backing away from the door.
The other nurse stares for a while smiling sadly, then they both start to move away from the door down the corridor.
“I could do with one too.” Said one nurse.
They walk away down the corridor laughing, their voices become distant.
“I’d prefer one on this world..”
They exit the corridor, leaving Marc alone. He’s lying on the floor of his mental room, curled up, smiling. Smiling. He never gained enough, he lost his love, he spent a year with no one, he lost his sanity, he manically threw around spaghetti, killed his cat and nearly burnt in a fire started by his mind. Now he is curled up alone on a cold, stiff mental room floor. Its no surprise, everyone wonders what puts a peaceful smile across his face…
But we don’t wonder.
We eat his brain.
The mould within the rectangle surrounding my hand begins to age and fragment away, in small ashen lumps, that float away from the brain. Gradually all the mould within the rectangle, floats away, releasing my hand and leaving a doorway to a galaxy in front of me. I walk through the brain door and I float into the vast network of stars around me. I float in peace, the rot left behind. I see something in the distance, I want to go to it…A sphere of water is floating amongst the stars in the far distance. I think towards it and without either of us moving, the stars travel by bringing us closer. I see the sphere of water is not alone… Floating inside are two thrones, one deep red, the other a deep purple. A familiar beautiful lady is sat in the purple throne, white cat in lap, smiling broadly at me and gently tapping the red throne. I gently float through the sphere and sit beside her. I look over at her smiling back and I feel I will never leave. We hold eyes, hold minds for a while, then hand in hand, we look forwards, still smiling, watching the galaxy, timelessly pass by.
END