It was the early hours of dusk. And it was quiet except for a chirping of insects. Mo lay straight as a dart on on his firm sofa. He was thin and shirtless, and his belly rose and fell with each breath. The room was small and square but it housed a table, two chairs and the sofa. The walls were gray and flaking.
Mo opened his eyes in the heat of the room as if awakened by an alarm. The room was dark and dank. He made to move but his body was rigid, like a stone slab. And then slowly the sofa upon which he lay began to move away from under him as if it was melting into thin air. The ceiling was pitch-dark and it rippled like thick oil. Mo began to float over the floor which also slowly became a hole, dark and formless. A force — weak but steady — tugged at Mo and sucked him into the hole as if with many hands.
3. The Pit
The hole was a quiet pit without a visible bottom. Mo sank in further. And when he strained his eyes enough, he almost recoiled at the sight of faces he saw on the wall of the pit. Pale faces of babies, young adults and old people all packed together closely like a bunch of grapes. And they all regarded Mo with sullen curiousity.
4. The Cut
In an instant, a creature materialized around Mo. His head carried many thick luminiscent cords like dreadlocks, which illuminated its formless face. He had a long tail and sharp claws, which tore into Mo’s flesh. But Mo did not bleed and he felt no pain at all. He moved to scream but his lips remained locked. The monster cut off Mo’s arms and legs. And it severed Mo’s head from its torso. Finally the monster clasped Mo’s face with its wet hand and rammed the head into the wall.
The wall was muddy, or so it felt at the back of Mo’s head. A cold sensation followed, like worms eating into his head, featsing on his brains. But he felt no pain at all. And then the darkness faded slowly. The pit was now a well with a round wall, and about a thousand human faces were glued to it. They all examined Mo, half-hating him, as if wanting to eat him.
“ We await our master here,” said a voice in Mo’s head.
6. The Light
Then it was pitch-dark again. But this time Mo had regained his mobility and he was running with all his might through a tunnel toward a distant light. He feared to look back. The floor was wet, and he slipped and fell but rose and ran again. At the end of the tunnel a brightness hit him, almost blinded him.
Mo saw human faces, but they had bodies. And they sat in small chairs and smiled at him with sullen interest. And then he saw a thin pipe attached to his left arm. But his right arm and legs were bound to the bed pole by thick brown belts.
He turned to face the bed beside his own. And printed on the frame of the bed was: Psychiatric Ward B