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CORRUPT MEMORIES

by STJAKOBUSKOMPOSTELA

CORRUPT MEMORIES

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 * CORRUPT MEMORIES
   

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CORRUPT MEMORIES

Fantasía

Between dystopia and madness. Idiocy and clairvoyance. In a scenario that
precedes the apocalypse, with society divided in two, one part turned away from
the other, love can become an uncontrollable weapon of destruction. A cryptic
and obscure story...

#dark #despair #destruction #dystopia #fantasy #future #madness #surreal


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CORRUPT MEMORIES

96 1 0
by STJAKOBUSKOMPOSTELA

by STJAKOBUSKOMPOSTELA Follow
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This text is nothing more than a creative exercise, with no other pretensions than to give free rein to an impulse. I am fully aware of its inconsistencies, its narrative brevity, and that, probably, some passages may be unnecessarily explicit. Although the text is under review, I prefer to share it. Why not? What does it matter if it doesn't bring any material benefits? If you feel the urge to express yourself, even in an unconventional way, it just doesn't matter. This will be, at least, your shelter. And even if you find just a bunch of people on the other side, it will have been worth it.

+








+








+





It's like when your mind wakes up before your body, a slow and agonizing transition between sleep and wakefulness. Some of us drag that heavy feeling throughout our lives, drowning in the seconds that stretch out before us like an unpleasant routine. You assume your own inability to move, as if the weight of the universe has collapsed onto you, and the world outside seems soft and fruitful, while inside is only suffocation and dullness. Your limbs remain insensitive, but a tingling sensation spreads throughout your body, and a constant buzzing fills your head. Sometimes, it even feels like you hear a long, high-pitched wail that fades into silence. As oxygen seeps into your lungs, the sensation widens like something huge and alive is dozing inside you. You try to open your eyes, but they seem to be sewn shut. The tingling begins to subside as the frequency of the buzzing increases, and the fluctuation in blood pressure evens out. You feel a sense of relief, as the sound becomes clearer and you hear a murmur that eventually turns into a familiar whisper. Your hair stands on end, and your skin becomes grainy as you recognize the sound of your mother's voice. 

+





"Has my king awoken yet? Do you want to know something?" Her urgent tone reverberates in the living room before she quickly exits, leaving you feeling restless and grasping the bars of your crib. Your mother's constant chatter provides a sense of comfort amidst the chaos of the household. She talks about everything from the weather to the lack of baby food, and how she must buy you clothes since there is no one to give you any toys. Her fluid and musical monologue echoes through the house, with the sound of her hurried footsteps adding to the cacophony. But suddenly, her voice disappears, replaced by an unfamiliar male voice coming from the kitchen. You strain your senses, trying to locate her but finding nothing. The thought of getting out of the crib and running into her arms is tempting, but the icy ground beneath your feet paralyzes you with fear. You sense that something strange is in the air, even though everything in the living room remains in its place. The curtains are drawn, the light is muted, and the thick purple carpet and small bookshelf remain untouched, yet your home feels unfamiliar on this cold morning.

+





The sound of voices echoes through the spacious foyer, growing louder as they approach. Peering through the bars of your crib, you catch a glimpse of a man's back as he leans against the doorframe. Their words intertwine, rising and falling in tone until they end in a whispered goodbye, followed by the slam of a door. A moment later, your mother returns with misty eyes and a large package wrapped in cellophane.

+





"Come, darling," she says, scooping you up in her arms. "Let's see what they've brought you."

+





Together, you climb the stairs to the upper floor, leaving behind the drab emptiness of the first floor. The hallway is adorned with a plethora of lovingly framed family photographs arranged in a calculatedly disordered harmony. The wallpaper, a canvas of oil flowers and birds, lends the space a cozy, welcoming feel.

+





Your bedroom is spacious and warm, with a small bed at its center, two refined armchairs in each corner, and a large closet and dressing table completing the furniture. The huge window is left bare, letting in the toasty light that floods the room and the fluttering butterfly trying to find its way out. It's the coziest place you could ever imagine.

+




                                  

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Sitting in the middle of your shrunken world, you tear into the large package with your mother's help. Inside, you find a big teddy bear, almost as big as you, with huge black eyes. Your mother leaves the room to answer the ringing phone, leaving you alone with your new toy. But you're not amused or excited. Instead, you stare into the teddy bear's black eyes, until you hear a soft, tender voice:

+





Inside you.

+





Outside of you.

+





You're not sure which.

+





But the voice is there, nonetheless.

+





"I've wanted to meet you for a long, long time," you confess to the stuffed animal perched on the bed, its button eyes staring blankly ahead. Strangely, you feel at peace, rather than apprehensive.

+





"Your mother will be on the phone for a while, so why don't we play?" the bear suggests. You glance around the room, contemplating its proposal.

+





The stuffed animal awaits your response, eyebrows raised expectantly. You remain silent, unsure whether to oblige. Eventually, you take the bear's hand, and it leads you to a cupboard. You remember this hideaway - a refuge from your fears on stormy nights, where you'd huddle in the dark, wiping away tears and slime. The bear urges you to close the door to create total darkness.

+





"Let me tell you about the game," it whispers. "First, we need to walk for a while, until you forget that we're in a closet. Then, you'll start seeing the images from your movie projected onto the walls. If you feel afraid, just hold onto me, and I'll comfort you with light."

+





You crawl under the coats, the passage seemingly longer than anticipated. Suddenly, you stand up, leaving the coats behind, and begin to walk hand in hand with your new friend. The frigid darkness transforms into a soothing warmth that lulls you into a restful state. It's the type of darkness that begs you to close your eyes and sleep soundly, enveloping you in a vast, profound stillness.

+





As you walk, you hear the faint murmur of a rushing stream, beckoning you closer. You hasten your pace, crossing imaginary cliffs and undulating surfaces, watching as ephemeral forms materialize from the amorphous space-time continuum. You must see what lies ahead, no matter what. And then, there it is - a thundering, glistening waterfall that spills into an unleashed spring. You hold out your hand, and thousands of droplets of rain light up the sky, forming an intermittent, watery kaleidoscope.

+





Yet, the rain only wets your hand, leaving the rest of your body unscathed. You are now a grown man, no longer a child. In front of you, the sparkling drops coalesce into the shape of a brick building. A cacophony of sounds and scents assail your senses - the smell of wet asphalt, the drumming of freezing, soiled rain against a metal plate sheltering the idle pedestrians. You take a deep breath, and your eyes wander around the scene. The clock on the building's tower reads ten past ten in the morning. Amidst the chromatic anarchy, a man with a trench coat and umbrella takes shelter under an overhang. He looks at you with a familiar, almost childlike grin. You avert your gaze and see her - the woman standing alone at the bus stop, her hair cascading over her shoulders.

+





Your heart races as you wish her to notice you, to acknowledge your presence.

+





"You should chill, man. Don't try to intimidate her on my watch," you said, trying to diffuse the tension.

+





He glared at you, his expression oscillating between bewilderment and fury. But for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw a hint of fear in his eyes. Before you could even catch your breath, the brute had unleashed his full force on your nose with a vicious punch.

+





Your last memory was the searing pain in your nostrils, the sudden loss of peripheral vision, and the shadows that came and went, as you teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

+




        



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