Seats with little leg room.

Air that dries, sting your eyes.

Earphones that hardly work,

Playing the best Muzak around.

Movies just for kiddies,

Neighbors that just frown,

And you between,

Begging passage

To the microwave oven-sized stall.

Tomato juice, but no salt.

Trays that slice through the fat.

Snoring boring, choppy ride.

The food’s getting much better though...

MaryAnne and I were on holiday where one day we were both abducted and transported to a place I have no clue of its location.

I am in a room that is all white including the ceiling, floor, the table I am handcuffed to and the chair I sit on. MaryAnne is nowhere to be found.

A man walked into the room and gave me specific instructions of choices I have to make within the next ten minutes. My face remained calm but my insides trembled at the prospect of the bleak and dire choices I had.

To say the least, this was both intimidating and frightening. The choices in the biggest sense weren't optimal no matter how I saw them. There wouldn't be any winners to come out of this ... unless the man was lying and I was for some strange reason being tested on my intellect. But if he was telling the truth, whatever my final choice, the outcome would prove fatal.

Between my handcuffed wrists sat a small round bell the size of a buzzer you would see outside by a front door of someone's home. I had to either press it once or press it twice, or not press it at all. They were my only options to the choices I was given. For the first time in my life, I was genuinely frightened at the prospects before me.

If I chose to press the buzzer once, I would die but MaryAnn would live. If I chose to ring the buzzer twice, both MaryAnne and I would be set free, but ten-million people would die. As it was said to me, ten-million strangers I did not know. If I chose to do nothing, I would live but MaryAnne would die. With the first and last choice, the ten-million strangers would live.

I've heard of and read about torture rooms before but this time I was in a place where I was being mentally tortured. My body was soaked in sweat.

And then I wondered, were they doing this same thing with MaryAnne? Was she also given this insane ultimatum? Was this some kind of sick prank to test our love for each other? Did she put a few of her friends together to test me?

Doubts. Nagging self-centered doubts. Of course she wouldn't. Would she?

The man returned and said I have one minute left. I became even more nervous and scared and not controlling myself, I felt the warm rush of pee saturate my clothing.

My hands edged to the buzzer and my index finger of my right hand hovered over it. Blinking the sweat away, my finger twitched, my body trembled.

Ten seconds he said flatly.

I looked at him nervously when he said my time was up.

He pulled out a pistol, leveled it at me and then I heard a ringing gunshot.

He never let any emotion enter into his voice when he said MaryAnne made the same choice I did. Then he fired the gun.

No winners.

I wonder what it’s like

connecting the other 

side of the big picture

there in the box with its

covert channels, padded

walls, parental locks, and 

yellow wall paper views

must be something on high

definition to Know

the makings of the canned

living ever laughter... 

what’s heated on the hour

as intratemplar feed

in the dark red chem rooms 

...developing the Thou

Art image all of man

will see and miscopy....

a strange kind of crazy

that no one gets sent off

if in analysis...

for all the odd grotesque

things that make us “happy”

there’s always room for more

we’ll just loosen a notch

on this trusty old lobota-

metric belt... and...

#tortureroom #challenge

'I don't know you.'

'I don't know you.'

'I don't know you.'

His voice echoed in my head.

'How could this have happened...'

It suddenly dawned on me.

'We never met. In this reality, we never met.'

The thought was like an anchor, pulling down my heavy heart to the depths of nothingness.

"Andy! We played together as kids! At the Boire Orphanage! We grew up together! You were a jokester and always told me cheesy jokes that no one laughed at, but we'd laugh together for hours and hours!" Tears started forming in my eyes, and my eyelids were too weak to hold them back by that point, so I just let them spill. My whole body was too weak to do anything, so I just rambled on with words and stories that meant nothing to him at all. And I cried. I cried until my face was soaked.

"Listen-Marcy, I-"

"It's Marie," I corrected him. 'God, this is the worst.' I had to take a second to look away from him.

"Marie," he paused and gave me a look as if to get approval for his next words.

"I'm sorry, but I really think you have the wrong person, there's no way I'm engaged to you. I'm getting married to the love of my life just next week! Plus, I was never in an orphanage. Now maybe if you go to the police, I-I'm sure they'd be able to track this guy down for you-"

My voice was still trembling as I sorrowfully pulled out the necklace he had given me- well, the Andy I knew before time travelling.

"You gave me this," I displayed the necklace that had our 1 month old engagement ring hooked on, "exactly 1 month ago. That's when you proposed to me. Inside of Reaton Park, in the rose maze. You even had our intitials printed on it, see?" I showed him the backside of the ring.

'He's not going to remember you idiot. He never met you!' said a voice inside my head.

'I don't care. I want to show him anyways. Will it change anything? Probably not. But at least I showed him...At least I tried.'

"We were best friends. Every Saturday, we'd go to Ellie's Icecream Shop, and I'd get strawberry and you'd always get pumpkin. Everyday we played soccer in the streets, you weren't very athletic so you'd always managed to fall right before making a shot... You called it your lucky move. We even got matching tattoos when we turned eighteen!" I pulled out my wrist that had the words: "to the fullest" on an infinity sign.

"We made a pact to stay together until the end of our lives when we got those tattoos... it was the week after you'd been diagnosed and a week after my grandfather had passed away." I tucked the tattoo back inside my jacket sleeve.

I felt like I was pleading for nothing. It was just emptiness. He wasn't going to magically understand and be aware of everything. How could I possibly make him believe me? I felt pathetic. This was pathetic.

He was just standing there. Politely listening to all of this, looking confused. Probably trying to decide whether he should call the psychiatric hospital nearby.

"Andy, I know you don't know any of this because- because..."

I stumbled. Should I tell him? Should I tell him about everything? How I time travelled to save his parents from that horrible fire. And how I didn't think about how it would change his life...particularly with me. He needed family. He was going insane, begging for a relative to be with him. I did it for him. It was all for him. Because of that, he now has a mother and a father, and even a younger brother! He's a doctor now, no longer a musician and an artist. No longer ill, and longer aqcuainted with any Marie's.

"Because... you are living well. You have a good life now." I took in a deep breath to calm myself as I decided to leave. "Live it to the fullest my friend." Where my final words came from that day, I will never know. But as sad as they were to me, to this day, I am happy I said them.

I stood for moment and stared at him. Trying to get a picture of him in my mind, so that maybe in the future, I'll be able to forget my Andy. So to forget Andy as a whole. It was better this way anyway. He is happy now. I let out a sigh and turned to leave.

As I was about to exit the park, I heared his familiar yet so distant voice, "Thank you," he paused hesitantly, "Thank you, Marie."

I stood frozen for a few seconds, embracing the lone ring around my neck. Wiped my final tear, and continued on my way out of the park, and out of his life.

#scifi #timetravel #romance #friendship

The love of my life has no representation.

What I paint does not have any colors to identify it.

So you ask...

What is the meaning behind a blank canvas?

We can not see love

We feel it.

Now, do you understand the meaning behind the blank canvas?

It is just that I can not show you, love.

But I can possibly make you feel it.

Painting something that represents the love of my life will do no justification.

Nothing I paint could identify the love he brings.

A blank canvas will tell you love is an unexplainable sense.

Indicating that the love of my life cannot be represented in a painting.

Only that the Love of my life is mine.

I know that because I feel it deeply in my heart.

That is something that cannot be drawn.

i saw her today and i felt my knees go weak. she was on a bench reading and sipping her coffee, and she smiled as she looked up at me. casually. like an acquaintance. like she wasn't my universe for two years and her pale lips weren't my escape every day and her emerald eyes weren't the most beautiful thing i'd ever seen.

i love her. so damn much.