"John, you got to wake up! Open your eyes lad, We are waiting for you!"
The shrill voice was my mother's, dead for about three years from now.
As I opened my eyes to look around, I could make out that I was chained to the bed. The bed sheet had stains of blood and rotten flesh all over. I was not sure, how long I lay there. I was still wearing my favorite red checker shirt with the ripped jeans. There was nothing fancy. I could see my hands tied to the bed post on either side of my head as I lay staring at the tattered ceiling. There was no fan and the big chandelier threw up light from a cross section. A pair of legs were lying by the right side of the bed at some distance on the floor, i guess those were mine. The black leather shoes with a flat heel still intact, it had to be mine.
I was dead to begin with...
As i gathered myself, I didn't struggle to free from the thick set of chains. My hands just popped out. I sat for a while, confused as I did not understand any of this. There was no bright flashes of light or winged angels coming down to take me on a flight. It was just me, fresh, light and without any pain, although dead. I crawled out of the bed clinging to one of the post for support. The first thing I needed was my legs and they were lying their to be picked up. I guess there were some better options to choose from, as it was heavily mutilated from the knee up. Yet I couldn't help wonder the possibility of sticking it up my torso, tried the best i could and it did stick, with minimal effort. I was surprised and it dawned on me that I had to think what I wished to accomplish and i could do it. I was handsome, vulnerable, confused, walking ghost.
The room was huge,could have been more than 20 feet long. It had a dungeon like feeling. There were no windows. The room had a door huge enough to let an elephant in, and it lay to the side opposite to the bed. The room was dimly lit and a faint shine came from the chandelier, up above.
I had never been here before. I couldn't assume it to be hell. It looked more of a medieval dungeon to me or entrails of a prison cell marooned on an island. All I could think at that moment was that I must have been brought here on a Tuesday, the day I was wearing Red checker shirt with the ripped jeans. The day I was aware of myself being alive. The day I met Amy and her friend Eli.
