Colin Devonshire – Very short story!

The Sound Of?

“Where am I? What has happened?” I thought to myself.

“Darkness, soundless, senseless. And, painless.”

“It feels as if I’m floating in the black.”

“Black what?” I wonder.

How much later? There was no way of telling, but grey emerged from the centre of black. The grey circle grew slowly, but it got bigger. I could not stop it.

“Do I want it to stop?”

It grew, becoming less grey as if light broke the morning. I could see! A white ceiling stared down at me, motionless, shadowless. But something.

I could not speak. My mouth did not open. A shadow moved across the ceiling, then another. My head moved sideways. Everything was pristine white, a gurney, a cabinet, clean and shiny, empty shelves and a white wall. My head, once again staring ahead at the ceiling. But what is that? A white-coated armpit stretched across my vision. Then a talking head appeared in front of me. His lips were moving, opening and closing, not chewing, speaking.

He was talking to me, asking something. His clear perspex facial shield moved aside to be replaced with another. This time a female. She was talking too.

She signalled with her fingers, one, two, three. I tried to nod. Maybe my eyes glinted, I don’t know. As a reward, they turned me to the right.

“What is that?”

A headless body, motionless, lay relaxed.

“Where is his head,” I wondered.

Blackness swamped me. 

“What happened? Was it something I did?”

The grey reappeared, spreading quicker this time. I could see again. And I could blink, not slowly and soft one eye as in a wink, but more mechanically, up and down, both eyes at once. At least I could see.

“What is that feeling?” 

A mouse silently moving in my head, I have moved again. This time I could see a desk. On the wall was a clock, eleven-fifty-five, I noticed and a date. Twenty-first of the fourth month, of the two thousand and seventy-second year.

“Christ, where have I been?”

Once more they lost me in black. As if awakening, I looked at legs and a lithe body, not mine.

The two faces were mouthing at me again. Mouthing and pointing.

I nodded, Christ, I can nod?

They smiled. The female grabbed an iPad and scrawled a question.

“Can’t you hear?”

I shook my head.

The two heads bobbing in deep conversation. They helped me to a sitting position.

I had arms, legs, they moved, my fingers waggled, under my control. I smiled. Then I felt my face. It wasn’t me. Soft, rubbery, and hairless.

They were talking again, excited children on Christmas morning.

The iPad thrust in my face.

“Welcome back to the world!”

“What about my ears?” I typed.

“A hitch, we are working on it,” hastily typed.

“I thought I would be hungry or thirsty after an operation?” I typed.

“No need for food or water,” she typed.


“Look in the mirror, over there,” she pointed.

Unsteadily I wobbled from the slab, one leg in front of the other, I made my way across the room.

“No drink? No food? No sex? Can I go back to sleep?”

“No need for sleep,” she mouthed.