The WALL

By Sahana Vamsee

It had been 7 hours, or was it minutes? Or weeks? Nothing seemed clear anymore. Humans are funny beings. They want to know everything, see everything, though some things are not to be seen. They specialise in the things that are not to be seen.

There was a legend in 27th century Alexandria, the myth of the wall, a mystic force field that enables humans to be sane, to view the other worlds and not be part of them. The bomb to break this wall was a book, supposedly hidden in the secret lockers of alexandria’s world congregation of books. This was ignored as a lunatic myth, useless bogus that distracted the minds of intellectuals from getting to the real truth in life. But I had found the truth. And the secret locker? It was the biggest exhibit of public books in the world. And the book had the cover of a fashion magazine from the 23rd century. I hope no one else who has the same sense of fashion as myself is idiotic enough to open a smoking cover and break their sanity.

The book was simple enough to read for the first 100 pages. Nothing related to fashion, it detailed the foundations of human creativity. The mind of a sentient being is capable of anything. It can pear into worlds and spit it out as either a well phrased brain smoothee or a rubbish order of letters. But the part about peering into the world is literal. Imagination is a measure, a measure of how well we see the other dimensions. But the last page of the book brought me hell packaged like a starbucks cappuccino, the key to being part of other dimensions. It started with the thing that had been running in my mind for ages, a murder novel. It was astute, the crime scene took place in front of my eyes. Or mind's eye at least. As the fire of the crypto department scoured the zone, a crystal blue eye turned to me and pierced my heart. Literally, with a knife. But for some reason I was alive, bleeding crimson and scared to hell and back, but as I ran, I went in loops, loops of my own world, the world I created in my mind, or so I thought. I didn't know anymore. This tableau took place again, and again, and again, but I evolved. I knew I couldn't die, I wasn't alive at all. I was on a stage, a stage without the 4th wall, a wall that had been there for a reason and if I was going to bleed eternally, might as well make some good out of it and write the insanity of my thoughts, the only thing I can even pretend is real.

By Sahana Vamsee