Room of Darkness

Thomas awoke as he felt strong pulses from the world around him. He felt the pain of his connected one. Is it my fault? He thought. At least, he thought he was male. He had heard knocks on his room walls echoing a name, “Thomas”. He assumed it was his, as it was repeated many times, correlated with the knock. He was imprisoned in this room, he knew not for how long.

His I.V. gave him energy, unable to disconnect himself as he knew no other way to eat. What laid outside his room? It was dark, but he knew the surrounding area. He lived for what seemed like an eternity, dragging his hands and feet against each wall, each crevice, attempting to find a way out. He just knew of the I.V. he was connected to helped him live. What was out there? He wondered. The voices outside his walls talked of food, nature, water, countries, trinkets, all forms of things Thomas did not recognize, did not know. He only knew his room of darkness, his thoughts which gave him comfort, his thoughts that proved he was alive.

He felt he existed for a purpose. His purpose was to escape. He knew a way out, but could not get through; he was too weak. What am I supposed to do? Thomas thought.

Any time, I think, the female voice outside his walls said.

The female voice spoke of places, foods, extravagant things. Detailed descriptions would calm him, he could almost picture them in his head. He knew of texture, but not colour; they spoke of yellows, blues, greens, and reds, sometimes even violets and oranges. They intrigued him, he wondered what they would be. He only knew darkness, feelings, textures, and sounds. He dreamed of the outside world, wondering when his home would free him, when he could become a person of the outside as the voices were. Who were they? Where did they come from? Are they god? Thomas would think. He could feel their caress of the wall, he felt their feelings even in the darkness.
    It’s happening! The female yelled.

What was happening? His walls slowly closed in on him, slowly but surely. Then rapidly. He felt pain, squeezed by the walls of his prison. Is this the end? He thought. Surely, it was over. Only his imagination comforted him now, as he felt the room of darkness betrayed him. The exit he predicted showed an opening, he was drawn to it. He ran to it, barely escaping. His eyes opened, barely able to handle what came next. Intense white came after the blackness of night, a light he saw more powerful than anything he had ever experienced; the light of day, colours flew through his eyes, now in agony. He escaped his prison of darkness to view the colours of the world. Whites, greens, greys, blues and yellows and oranges and more. He could not breathe; a swift smack upon his back caused him to split up his breath, breathing air now, not liquid.
    “Congratulations, Mrs. Lown. It’s a boy!”

Thomas wondered what his new purpose would be, now that he had escaped his prison.