Experimental fine art photography by evan james atwood 62352465


United States

Twisted (Part 1)

December 30, 2018


He woke to the chilling air hugging his body as sweet feverish odor filled his nostrils, into his lungs. He tried to pry his eyes open, but a bright light rained upon him, squinting and griping the ends of a metal table laying beneath him. With his eyes shut closed, pushed himself up into a sitting position. Bringing his hands up to his head as an excruciating pain coursed through his brain, gritting his teeth, he clawed at his shaved head,but quickly winced and retreated his hands as if someone kicked him in the head. Cautiously opening his eyes, trying to adjust to the blinding rays, gently brushing his fingertips on his forehead. Eyes furrowed as his hands met with rough patches of skin, tracing lines encircling his shaven head. He calmly glanced forward to a man laying parallel to him, he was on a similar bed, the man's skin appeared to be turning into a sickly grey. His eyes were glued shut as his chest rose and fell into a steady pattern. The man's eyes twitched underneath his translucent eyelids as if he was living another life beyond reality. He grew bored from the sight of the strange man and threw his legs around the bed and hopped off, losing balance momentarily. He scanned the room and noticed a tilted mirror placed oddly in the corner. Legs staggered over, but his knees buckled and, pathetically, his body crashed down onto the dark blue tile. He stood up with legs shaking, and stumbled towards the gloomy corner. Eyes meeting his own as he gazed into the mirror. His light blue eyes clouding with corruption, he seemed unfazed by the mysterious transition. His eyes moved up, aware of stitches lining his entire top half of his head. He was trying to recollect past events that might have led him into this eery room, but nothing came forth. Appearing down to his clothing, grasping what appeared to be a worn out hospital gown. Pain strikes through his head again, going through his spine and nerves like electricity powering through circuits and wires. Grimacing as a moan escapes his cracked, cold lips. 
"Who are you?" Another man's reflection appears in the mirror, standing behind Vincent. He turned around and noticed it was the grayish man who was once laying on the metal table. Bags drooped under his eyes as if he never slept. Veins were visible as they trailed up all over his own shaved head. 
"Vincent." His memory seemed to be unable to recall information, but his name floated up when asked the question. The man ahead of him seemed so familiar to his eyes, but couldn't quite understand why. 
"My name is Hayden. Do you know why we are here?" The man's mind seemed to buzz with questions, deciding how many he should ask. His stance slouched cowardly as if he was going to crumple into a small ball. Instead, Hayden paced around the dim room, massaging his temples. Bare feet making a slight thud with every step.
"No, I can barely remember anything." A monotone voice leaked out of Vincent's mouth, as if a robot took his form. He did not seem to care for this young stalky gentleman that was presented before him. 
"Me neither! God, I-I thought I was going crazy," The man stopped staring at his reflection in the mirror and looking back at Vincent, "Don't you think it's weird that we have the same scars, located in the same places." Rubbing his eyes groggily, "Look, I'm just going to tell you straight up. I have a really bad feeling about all of this. I mean look around, there is no windows or doors." Hayden threw his hands up in the air, demonstrating the bare pale white walls trapping them in, hostages with no escape insight, "I mean there is no way out! This place looks like a hospital room, but what room has no doors?!" he continued to ramble on for what seemed like hours. His voice faded into a light hum in Vincent's ears. Like an annoying fly buzzing around. He ignored his words, but focused on his movements. The man before him, stressing at the situation laying at his feet. Breathing becoming uneven, pacing faster as his words transformed into an inaudible murmur. Hayden's voice started to carve into his brain making him on edge as he bit his nails furiously, eyes staring vacantly at the emptiness. Shut up. Shut up. 
"SHUT UP!" Vincent roared, his voice strong enough to break walls. His eyes transforming into black soulless holes as if the devil himself took his place. Hayden stopped in his tracks, grey eyes gaping open in horror.
"I'm sorry, I'm just...scared is all. And us talking won't do anything. We should look around. Maybe there is something that can help us understand." His words expressed concern, but his flow was uneven and choppy, his jaw clenching something fierce.
"I guess that seems like a better plan. Maybe we should check the cabinets?" his voice was hesitant, but he trudged over to the farthest wall, opening the little white doors, peeking back at the man who seconds ago yelled like a madman. Vincent glances around the room, noticing cabinets outlining three of the four walls. Nonchalantly, he walks towards the wall opposite of the ghostly looking man. His fingertips grazed the walls, letting out a sigh. Opening drawers, one by one. Empty. Empty. EMPTY. EMPTY! His frustration grew stronger with every pull until he noticed an object in the fifth drawer, the only object. Inside, held a knife that was so sharp, it could slice air particles into two. He grasped the skillfully crafted wooden handle, the weight from the blade making it tip back and forth as if a slight wind blew in to cleanse the despair perishing through the room. Playfully examining it, he grew more and more comfortable as time crawled away. His lips twitched into a smirk, but quickly stopped as a voice cut through the still air,
"Vincent, did you find anything yet!?" Hayden slammed cabinets and drawers as he hollered in a squeaky tone. 
"No, not yet, but we should keep looking" A voice that once boomed, turned relaxed and soothing, so quickly.
"I agree!" Hayden continued to produce harsh thuds as he opened and closed the cabinets, rambling outloud. Why is it so hard for him to just be quiet?! Just for a moment! As the noise continued, his grip on the knife tightened, blackness crept over Vincent's vision, blinding him as an overwhelming itch consumed his body. 


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  • December 30, 2018 - 9:20am (Now Viewing)

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