Prometheus Had it Good

Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.

-Buddha

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

-Edgar Allan Poe

When you come to, you are staring at a wall with one of those alphabet posters hanging a little askew. A Doctor is sitting at his desk to your right. you can tell he is a doctor, mostly because he is wearing a white jacket and a has a stethoscope hanging off of his shoulders. You turn your head toward him without consciously trying to, and hear yourself utter the words, “are you sure?” You keep staring at him, but you cannot for your life figure out why.

“Do you have any questions?” he asks you.

Um, yes, you think. For one, who are you, and for that matter, who the hell am I? You have no idea how you got into this office, or where you were before you got here Instead, you hear your tiny voice tell him “no,” and then you get up and walk out the door. What the hell is wrong with me, you wonder as you try to turn back and ask your questions, but you keep moving on, as if being compelled by some unseen force.. You enter the elevator, then blink, and all of a sudden you're walking out onto the streets of an enormous city, and you realize that you have no idea what city it is. You find it odd that you have absolutely no memory of actually riding the elevator or even of walking through the lobby that led to the door to get outside. You're also still wondering what the hell you were asking the doctor if he were sure about.

You have another lapse in consciousness, and come to, driving a car. You have no idea where you're going, but your hands and feet seem to have a pretty good idea as they are practically moving on their own. What the hell is going on, you try to scream out , but instead, you remain completely silent as your hand reaches over to turn on the stereo. A song about brown leaves and grey skies comes on and now you are pulling out a cigarette and shoving it into your mouth. You didn’t even know you were a smoker. You certainly weren’t craving it at all.

Another lapse, and now you're walking into someone’s messy apartment. “Honey, I’m home,” you yell out involuntarily. As you are wondering who this honey you mentioned could be, you begin walking across the living room. You're starting to hear noise coming from the bedroom. It sounds like grunting, and … oh, that’s definitely a lady in there with the grunter. You're thinking you should probably turn right back around and give them some privacy, but as is apparently the normal for today, your body ignores your wishes, and you walk right into the very room the noises are coming from. On the bed in front of you, are two people you have never seen before tangled together and writhing to the tempo of their moans. They don’t even notice you standing there watching them. You feel very awkward and really want to apologize for walking in on them, but instead, you stand there for a few more moments, unnoticed before finally turning around, and shutting the door behind you.

Then, you are in the living room, staring at pictures of the woman from the bedroom, except fully clothed, with a man that is not the man from the bedroom. You catch the reflection of your face in the glass, and wouldn't you know it, it's the same face as the man in the picture that you have absolutely no recollection of ever taking. You hear a high pitched scream of pleasure coming from the bedroom. You put the photo back and …

...there is another leap in time and you are now walking on the sidewalk. To your left you see a sign that that suggests you are now at Central Park. How the hell did I get here, you wonder. The next thing you know, you are walking a path in with trees all around you. You see a bridge ahead, and you realize it is starting to get dark. I should turn around you think. Even though you feel a sinking dread, deep in the pit of your stomach, you continue on unhindered. As you enter the shadow of the bridge, a figure appears on the other side. Turn around! You scream in your mind, but your body shows no sign of paying attention to you.

Instead, you hear yourself whimper, “Who are you?”

The figure doesn’t answer, but you see he is holding a revolver in his right hand, and it is aiming at you. Run, goddamnit!Turn your stupid ass around and get the fuck out of here! Your body continues ignoring you. What the fuck is wrong with you!

Just when you feel that the dread is becoming unbearable, there is a loud bang, followed by a flash from the muzzle of the man’s gun. You feel the bullet tear into you, and it stops to reside somewhere in you gut. You cover the wound with both hands, as blood pours out over them. You fall to your knees, and then the world turns as you hit your side. The man who shot you turns and walks away, as if this was just one last chore he needed to take care of before heading home.

Hey, you try to scream out. Why did you do this? Who are you? Who am I? Why the fuck am I here? Yet with all the screaming you are doing in your mind, you remain silent.. As you lay there with your life flowing out of you, you begin to wonder what you did to deserve this. If your body won’t listen to anything you are telling it to do, why do you have to be the one feeling the pain. This isn’t fair. You didn’t ask for any of this. You didn’t ask to be born just to die alone and in darkness under a bridge.

They say that your life is supposed to flash before your eyes when you are about to die, but you have no memories of anything before waking up in that damn doctor’s office. As you think this, your world goes black. You hear music come out of nowhere, as if an unembodied band has begun to play out the end of your life. That’s when you see something appear out of the blackness. It’s… words.

The Loser

A short film by Alec Grafton

You have absolutely no idea what to make of this. As you try to understand, the words disappear and you are left in the darkness. You realize that you may be dead, but you are still conscious. Is this Hell? Is this what the afterlife is? Is this the fate everyone must eventually resign themselves to? Is this the inevitable end that comes to all living things? You are left in the darkness, contemplating your existence, and what this all means. Time continues to move on, but you have no idea how long it has been. An hour, a day, a week. Time is a lost concept to you in the black void.

When you come to, you are staring at a wall with one of those alphabet posters hanging a little askew.