A fluttering of eyelids, a flash of light and then…nothing. Everything is black, all is empty. Seconds go by and he tries again to open his eyes. This time nothing happens, not at first anyway, but as his head swivels back and forth on his thick stub of a neck, his surroundings change. Black begins to adjust and is soon a pale green glow, almost like a sunrise, but not. The glow grows brighter and hues of aqua marine and dusty rose are added, creating a vivacious mix of colors. At the center of what seems like the sky is a bright light, brighter than the sun and it is amazing, a fantastic accessory to a so far perfect world. His head turns downward and as he watches, spruces of dew covered blades of grass spring from a now apparent ground. Soon an entire field is before his very eyes. Patches of vibrant yellow daffodils and rows of innocent purple alyssums are seen and they smell of old memories. Somehow he feels safe, he feels like he’s home. Perfectly at ease, he pulls upward at his white jumpsuit-clad legs and squats down to touch the earth. The soil is soft and powdery, almost like a coldless snow, and it slightly stains his hands rusty brown. A flower came next in his thorough observation, and he picked a frosty blue Newton’s Larkspur as he sank into the grass on his bottom. He felt the smooth texture of the rare wildflower’s petals and he stared at it with longing. He hadn’t seen a flower like this since he was just a boy, hiking in northern Arkansas with his dear old dad. Content, he reclined backward into a laying position, crossed his ankles, and allowed his eyes to drift closed. Nothing could possibly make him feel any negative emotion in a place like this.

Engaged in a light doze, Robert feels a swift chilly sensation pass over his face in the shape of a giant bird. Then he could feel heat, scorching heat burning all around him. This wasn’t right. This was his place; everything was supposed to be perfect. He thought that all the bad things were gone, hidden away, but he was wrong. He opened his eyes in panic and began choking on a thick mist of smoke. His beautiful field of dreams was no more and in its place was a wall of burning red and orange flames on all sides and dark, beastly figures soaring, circling him in the sky. He was petrified; he thought this was all over. ‘This isn’t real,’ he thought to himself, ‘I know this isn’t real. It isn’t real. It isn’t real. It isn’t –’ he was rocking back and forth with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to clear his mind and block out the images he was seeing when he heard a shrieking cry overhead. He looked up as a giant falcon-like figure with razor sharp talons and a wicked long tail came flying toward him. Robert began to run but soon realized that he had no where to go except a fiery grave if he tried to pass through the cage of flames. He turned and he saw the beast’s fierce crimson eyes as it was almost upon him.
He only had time to throw his hands up to black his face when he felt the first blows of the monstrous thing. It clawed and slashed and within seconds his blood was flowing freely from his wounds and pooling at the now ashen ground under his feet. He knew his time was most likely almost out and he let out a wailing cry as his torture rained on.

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The sight of Robert’s practically mutilated but still alive body was sickening. The white padded walls of the room were now stained scarlet in various splatters and smears and strands of his medium length brown hair was protruding from many of the patches of red liquid. Currently, roughly three or four building officials were attempting to help him to his feet while yet another was hurriedly pulling rolls of gauze and other bandages from a first-aid kit. Robert’s entire upper body was scratched and or bruised and an abundance of his hair was on the pillow like floor instead of his balding head. It was a mystery how the jacket that had held his hands firmly in place only thirty minutes earlier was now laying in a useless heap on the floor. The head doctor in Robert’s case, Dr. Hale, watched the scene from behind a wall of safety glass, his glasses perched at the end of his beakish nose and his mouth twisted in an expression of fascination.


When Robert was bandaged and safely strapped back into his strait jacket, he was led from his room and as he emerged Hale strode to his side to help him into his personal wheelchair. It had been a little over eight months since Robert’s admittance and yet he still showed no progress, but he would break, they always did. He tsked at Robert’s crouched form as he took out a prescription bottle from his coat pocket, shook two of its contents into his rather large hand, and handed them to another official to give to the patient. When they had been engulfed, Hale crouched down so as to be at eye level with Robert.

“What are we going to do with you, my boy?” he asked languidly. Then with a shake of his head he turned to his staff. “Take him to the testing room,” a pause, “and set the dial at thirty six volts.” An excitement crept into him as he thought of his experiments and it showed clearly on his well defined face. He pushed off his knees with the palms of his hands and gave Robert one last look. At the same moment, Robert decided to acknowledge the fact that there was someone before him and as he glanced at his companion he noticed that the eyes o the man before him were glowing a crimson red. “I’ll see you in there,” the doctor said quietly and as Robert was wheeled down the hall he stood there and listened with relish to the screams.