Aloc

About two years ago, on a Saturday in mid-June, the storm outside crashed with fervor
and Aloc couldn’t help but sleep. Day 144 was a noisy one. People came in and out, crying and
saying incoherent nothings. The priest and the choir sang by his bed. His sisters asked whose job
it was to pull the plug, and his mother scolded them. Aloc kept on dreaming as if he had no other
choice…because he didn’t. Aloc was going to die.

He wasn’t quite dreaming, but he wasn’t quite awake either. He heard the voices of the
people he cared about, but they came from characters created in his subconscious. They could be
people, or animals, or shapes, or otherworldly things that Aloc could never understand.

On day 144, Aloc walked through a forest of glowing blue trees with soft edges. The air
was sweeter here. His bare feet stepped through velvet grass, and his hands grazed along the
white-tailed deer that walked with him. The leaves whispered that they missed him, and that they
hoped he would come back soon. He didn’t understand what they meant by that, but he did hear
them. An understanding was reached within himself, and he continued on his way. The deer sang
beside him in a language that he couldn’t quite seem to grasp, but it had the same melody as a
hymn that he used to know. He wondered if God was there.

On day 146, Aloc’s mother began to lose hope. She sat beside his bed, breath hitting his
face, and prayed for his health. Aloc didn’t see her, or hear her, but the wind blew a little stronger
in the forest.

On day 152, Aloc woke up in the sand. The water crashed onto the shore, and felt cold on
his feet. Wind blew clouds much too quickly, and much too perfect seashells were scattered
among the crabs. Aloc slowly lifted himself to his feet, and noticed that his tattered white shirt
was covered in blood. He examined himself and found a large gash across the front of his
ribcage. There was nothing near him to fix it, and he had an odd feeling that it wasn’t important,
so he kept walking. He picked up a seashell and held it to his ear. Beeping filled his head, so he
quickly dropped the shell at his feet. It fell on his foot and a sharp edge cut him. This infuriated
him, so he picked up another shell. The new shell sounded like screaming and doors opening,
energy rushing and feet scuffling closer. Aloc was disturbed greatly, so he dropped this shell as
well.

A few minutes before, Aloc’s mother noticed how heavily he was breathing. Nothing had
changed with his behavior for weeks, so her nerves began to twitch. She called for the doctor just
as Aloc began to gasp. As color returned to his face, so hope returned to his mother’s heart as she
sat in the chair beside his bed. Aloc’s heart rate sped up significantly, and the beeping startled his
mother. She began to watch him very closely. His right foot jerked, and tears fell from her face.
She was sure her son was waking up. The door swung open and the doctor rushed in, along with
nurse after nurse after nurse. A nurse calmly asked his mother to leave the room, to which she
loudly exclaimed that this was her son, and she would not leave him for anything. The doctor
turned and sternly let her know that no one could get anything done if she was in here and that
she had to leave. She began to cry and scream hysterically, and two male nurses escorted her into
the hallway.

Aloc walked toward the tide and let the water flush the wound on his foot. He’d had a
headache for a while now, and his chest was bleeding quite a bit, but otherwise, he felt quite
relaxed. Fatigue set in, so he sat down on the sand and watched the sky change color. The sun
was about level with the edge of his world. Birds flew across dark blue clouds and orange stripes
of sky. Aloc watched as the sky dripped into a blood red sea, which turned into a blood red
beach, and a blood red sky. He closed his eyes and laid back, sure that he was falling asleep.
The doctors threw the blanket off of the foot that his mother said twitched, and saw no
movement. Aloc’s gasping was the loudest sound and was only interrupted by the monitor
beeping rapidly. All of the sudden, the beeps became further apart, and Aloc’s eyes opened. They
were rolled back into his head, but they were open.

Aloc noticed that the warm red was flowing over him. Water or blood consumed his
limbs and came up to his chest before receding and coming back. Aloc enjoyed this feeling, and
didn’t move. This was all he wanted. He was sick of waking up in new places. New settings
proved to be too much for him, and he was ready to be done with it. Aloc laid there, letting the
red get closer and closer. Eventually, his face succumbed to the darkness, and breathing didn’t
feel so important anymore.

The beeping became a steady ringing, and, consulting the DNR, the doctor called the
time of death.

Aloc floated off into nothing. Weightlessness overtook him, and the red faded to black.
What did this mean? What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t help but feel the pressure of the
unknown on his heart while he floated, seeing the same thing with his eyes closed as he could if
they were open.

Ella Simmons is a double major in Creative Writing and Film Production. She loves all things macabre, ghoulish, and dreamlike. It’s not uncommon for her to write short stories, poetry, essays, and whatever else comes to mind.