Crammed Inside

This is not your usual segmented story. You will have many questions and I will try to accommodate you with information, but truth be told not all your questions will be answered. Sometimes in life the questions are what we live for, not the answers, so take this however you want, but be grateful for these questions of wonder. Keep in mind though, to each his own, when you start to unravel the mysteries in these sentences, in this place of the unknown. Almost could be compared to beloved Twilight Zone stories that would give you the shivers. Now I would love for you to really imagine yourself walking through these lines of text as if it were your own home.—knowing every nook and cranny without even having to actually think about it. You will know it like the back of your hand, but on the other hand you will get glimpses of these fictional people that you do not know from Adam and you probably never will, but it is the story itself that needs your full attention. So please, enjoy the ride, open your mind and I’ll see you on the other side—of this story.

There’s a bland room. Spotless tan walls almost bathed in the warmth from the yellow sun trying desperately to peek through the light brown heavy curtains, but to only fall short of a few rays, so what is permitted is a dimly lit space. Looking at this room, inspecting every aspect of this low toned room, it would catch you by surprise. The space is a perfect 65 degrees. For some this is way too cold for a whole house, and especially for a three hundred square foot room of nothingness... or is there. I have been holding back a special someone. He is laying in the bed still as the day is long. No movement except for his steady breathing. He is plain as they come. He is wearing off white as what is seen from the top. He is tucked under a white blanket, but he has not been recent. Not since he was admitted to this establishment under his own will, meaning he does not know where he is or even conscience of it well not all of him. He is here, floating in a space as old as time, if there was only time to tell. Everything in his room is still with only a reminisce of time. The only perchance of a glimpse of age in the room is that there is a lonely flower that can only be seen as being there for weeks, months, maybe even a year—no one knows really. The flower could almost be made out to look like a rose, but the brightly red and green stem are wilted beyond recognition. The beauty has come to the end of its time. The petals that have fallen on the bedside table, crinkled to the point of fragility. To even look at them with a passing glance they would crumble to a pile of dust. The stem droops so much to the point it has taken the shape of the outside of the glass, but now it is stiff and brittle to the point that time has not been good to the lonely brown stem. To even move this masterpiece of time would not stop the inevitable. The clipboard that hung over the end of the bed had very few notes of scribbles that only the highest person could even attempt to read. The only pieces of information that are important is this mysterious guys name which is a unique John Doe. No one really knows this person’s name through and through, so John Doe is the best they have to give this man without any credentials a dignified name. People would love to know his one true name, the one given to him at birth to give him some unknowing satisfaction. But that is far from a solution anyone could give this person. Now that you know this, we will move on to the rest of this cracked story.