Tuesday, November 12, 2013

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM


The 21st Century Apartments


     You wake up in the middle of a room next to a telescope.  After blinking several times, you notice that the floor is larger than the base of the most massive pyramid, and as you stand up inside this huge room, you lose your balance a little.  When you step to your right to regain your balance, the entire floor tilts, just the slightest bit, accompanied by a loud whirring, as if many cogwheels had suddenly begun rapidly turning.  When you return to the exact center of the room, the floor returns to its original flatness. Ridges in the floor extend in each cardinal direction, at first appearing merely decorative. After you grow tired of standing in the middle, you take several steps, and the reason for the ridges becomes immediately clear. The floor tilts no matter which way you step, and the ridges are stairs that enable you to proceed upward or downward.
     Then you notice a large, red button in the middle of each stair step.  When you stamp down on one, the floor locks into position, enabling you to proceed either upward or downward. You find that it is easier and feels more natural to go downward, but the farther down you go, the more you experience the primal instincts and desires of the flesh, and after awhile, as you continue downward, you discover that you are attracting strange, unbalanced forces that become more and more demonic, so you return to the middle of the room.
     You decide to climb upward and discover that you keep heading into brighter light toward ethereal beings that are so highly advanced that you feel like a bug in comparison.  Even so, when you are in their proximity, you take on some of their higher energies, becoming more and more god-like. You find that no matter which way you head, up or down, you enter a different vibration of energies, a different order of existence, the knowledge of which separates you a little more from the rest of humanity, so you again head back to the middle of the room, where, finally, you discover the reason for the telescope:  When you peer out of the massive windows into other rooms, you find that you can't locate any other people who are standing in the middle.



Room 200 has four other doors.  Choose one. 

Friday, November 8, 2013

A ROOM WITH A VIEW




   A fly hovers above your food as you sit at the kitchen table. Instead of swatting it away, you let it land on your plate. Suddenly, your sight is fragmented into numerous facets, all containing the same image of the kitchen as you buzz around the head of a man sitting at a kitchen table. Shaking your head, you gaze at the flower in the pot on the windowsill, suddenly thirsty, rooted as deeply as possible in the moment, struggling toward light and swaying slightly in the currents of breath. You gaze, unseeing, at the petals, licking your fur, basking in the sunshine, ignoring a cockroach that emerges from the cabinet and the man at the kitchen table, who is breathing as quietly as possible and staring blankly at a cockroach that stares back at him, its antennas flailing. 



Room 222 has four other doors.  Choose one.