An excerpt from a short story I've been writing called: psy·cho·sis
Dirty dishes in the sink: check.
Bare cabinets: check.
Plastic bag full of items which should have been unpacked a week ago: check.
She nodded to herself and thought “Nothing out the ordinary here.”
She flicked the light switch and everything was illuminated, darkly. New shadows were casted. The shadows were hiding from her or peering at her. It was all a matter of her conscious perspective which would decide the vision of what was to come.
A pleasant voice, possibly male, familiar but unknown echoed within her “I think therefore I am….”
“Maybe’, she answered as though whatever was speaking through her was there. “Maybe I am, therefore I think, when I think, I create, yet what I create manifests, which isn’t always for the best.”
It felt as if something caressed her head, soothing her hair. She blinked her eyes and found her left hand soothing her hair down..
“Woah.” She exhaled. She looked around the kitchen.
Dirty dishes in the sink: check.
Bare cabinets: check.
Plastic bag full of items which should have been unpacked a week ago: check.
She nodded to herself and thought “Nothing out the ordinary here.”
On top of the refrigerator sat an old radio. She turned on music then grabbed a bundle of darkness which rested next the ancient technology of generations passed. She slid her hands into a pair of large black rubber gloves. She threw her head back letting out a mad scientist laugh as she turned the hot water on. She shook her hips to the rhythm of the music as she waited for the water to reach scolding hot. Steam began to rise from the sink as indication the time has come; to levitate. As she scrubbed, and soaped and rinse each dish she floated farther and farther away from herself. Her thoughts floated and internal monologue escaladed with the tempo and pitch of the vibrations excreting from the speakers above her head.
Through the eyes of her perception the mind begins to riddle and question. “My thoughts float in the water as the sink clogs with rotting food. Is that food for thought? Why do people say “food for thought”? Starving the thoughts to kill a few in order to slow down the spiral which whirlwinds through the brain seems much more effective.” A whirlwind; a spiral: She realized she wasn’t thinking but speaking out loud. She reached into the dirty dish water then unplugged the dish drainer. The water spirals down the drain. She watches as hope arises within her. Hope the water draining will somehow loosen the knots which seem to have created tightness within her brain. She finished rinsing off the rest of the dishes and arranged them on the dish drying rack. She turned off the water and removes the gloves placing them back on top of the refrigerator turning the volume down on the radio. She stands in the silence. A song drifts into her left ear, and dances around her brain like a slow moving roller coaster then proceeds to exit out of her right ear. She can see herself. She can feel herself standing there but she can see herself. “How can this be...?” She thinks as the thoughts manage to float through the loops of the roller coaster of a song. Not only can she see herself but she can see the musical notes and lyrics enclose around her; inclosing her body in a melody created tomb. She walks into the art studio. Mirrors cover one wall and the second her eyes lock with her reflections the visuals disappear. She stares at herself unblinking and thinks “Was that an out of body experience?” but no answer comes