When the doctors asked him if he wanted to hop into a frying pan, Alexander of Severe Level III, long acquainted with doctor tongue, knew they meant they wanted to trial a new drug or a new treatment. Alexander said okay because he was tired of being shut up all day in the institution, and wanted to travel to the testing lab. More importantly, he had lost a central piece of himself to shrapnel when he stepped on a landmine eleven years earlier, and continued to perplex what was left of his cerebral cortex with the hope of its recovery.
The doctors assured Alexander that the new treatment, which had to be administered far from the city to avoid electrical effects, had worked well on animal subjects, and if Alexander of Severe Level III would scrawl his agreement on the bottom of a standard form, he could find his way home again.
Home seemed a dream, but a pleasant one.
Once, when he was a small child at the county fair, Alexander, then of Innocence, had far wandered from the hand of his mother who was busy with cotton candy or ice cream. He had been blinded by the midway bulbs, deafened by the shouts of shills, and had begged a tall cowboy for help. Home at that time was not only a pleasant dream, but the possibility of its loss a nightmare.
Now, absent an essential piece of himself, and with the prospect of finding it again without the need to return to the war jungle of snakes and booby traps, Alexander scrawled his agreement, and climbed into an institution van with a doctor, and a driver who somehow resembled a beautiful cow. They both wore important badges and faces.
Alexander watched the bridges and buildings pass as the van moved through traffic toward the point where the natural earth escaped the clutches of the city. He hadn’t been outside the institution in eleven years and stared at the apartment towers with their multitude of windows and balconies. Some of the balconies held human figures aloft.
Why don’t they jump? he asked the doctor.
They aren’t missing a piece of themselves, replied the doctor.
That made good sense to Alexander of Severe Level III. He knew something in his head had blown into the treetops all those years ago when he walked point in the jungle with his brothers, but he wasn’t sure what it had been. He might have been a painter before the war, or maybe a carpenter. The only thing he knew with some certainty was a faith that tickled his blood. Somewhere lived a god that smiled.
Once outside the city, but still a long distance from the testing lab, they left the main highway, and drove past fields of corn and wheat.
Cultivation is the most vital labor, said Alexander. It was something he had read long ago. He wasn’t sure it was true, but it did make a certain sense.
Yes, said the doctor.
But why is that? asked Alexander.
Well, we all have to eat, I suppose.
Alexander of Severe Level III sat back in his seat, satisfied with the answer, and chewed a memory that had ripened into an edible fruit of a time in the war before the landmine blew him into the institution. He had stood around a fire with three or four other soldiers and tossed live shells one by one into the flames. The idea was not to flinch when they exploded, and with any luck, not to get bullet pierced. One guy did receive a hit that fractured his jaw, and through the wonder of medical evacuation and the benediction of medical discharge, returned home where the only institutions he had to suffer were those of reconstruction surgery, family life, and a dull factory job.
Those were the lucky ones, thought Alexander, as the institution van climbed into the mountains above the husbandry. Some never came back at all.
Some came back without a leg, without a functioning set of organs, or worse, without a memory of who they had been, or why they had thought it necessary to offer their youth when the government called.
If he had to guess, Alexander would say that, at the time, he had volunteered to protect his way of life, but since he had lost whatever that way of life had been, he couldn’t say for sure it was worth protecting.
The doctor reached over and poked Alexander’s arm.
We’re almost there, he said.
Alexander of Severe Level III nodded, and shifted in his seat. He was ready to find what he had lost.
They came to a gate with a sentry station, and after the ritual of identification, entered the grounds of the testing facility. It sat on a gently sloped hill, and had the look of a former ranch. Alexander thought he heard an animal.
Do you have cows? he asked. The long afternoon shadows could hide most things.
It’s just the wind, said the doctor. We’ll start in the morning.
The next day, the doctor came for Alexander early. After a light breakfast, they walked outside and sat on a bench. The sun birthed a blue day.
I wasn’t honest with you, said the doctor.
When?
At the institution, when I said the animal tests worked well.
What happened?
Some of them died.
The sun feels good, said Alexander.
Do you understand?
Not really.
You could die here, Alexander.
Why then?
I want to help you, son.
Alexander of Severe Level III nodded. That too made good sense. And he imagined it made his god smile. The way things were, he wasn’t living. Not as living should be, anyway. In the morning at the institution, they unlocked his door. In the evening, they locked it again. The food was predictable. Until yesterday, he hadn’t seen a real tree for eleven years.
That’s okay, Doc, said Alexander. Maybe I’ll find my missing piece.
The doctor stood. Let’s get started then, he said.
They walked toward the testing lab. Alexander raised his face to the sky. It hosted a few cumulus clouds, like pillowed kingdoms from a softer time. A hawk circled.
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121 comments
I love stories that seem real and also help me to learn something new. This was both!
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Well, thank you Donita. Very nice of you to say so. Glad you liked it!
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Unusual, creative and vivid. Portrays the main character with compassion and insight. Congratulations!
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Thank you, Kristi. A pleasant surprise this a.m. I'm glad you liked it.
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Beautifully written! Thanks for putting this out into the world so we can all benefit from it.
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Thank you Lucy for reading and sharing your thoughts. I'm glad you liked it!
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I read it. I sat in the aftermath of it. I might be grasping, and I'm not quite sure I mind, but this definitely resonated with me that we are all searching for a part of us we've lost somewhere, left behind, or try to keep intact. I enjoyed the gentle reminder, and I loved the flow of the story, of Alex's ruminations. Wonderful writing :) ... Maybe I'll find my missing piece. We should be so lucky when/if we do.
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Justin, many thanks for reading and sharing your reaction. I'm pretty much always aware that others may see what I write differently than I do, and that is a beautiful thing. I love and welcome that. In this case, we share that same idea that we are searching, as you put it, for something we've lost, or left behind. Many thanks again for your comment, much appreciated.
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Excellent work.
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Thank you, Charles. Much appreciated that you've taken a read/see and left a comment. Glad you liked it!
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Compelling and thoughtful read, beautifully written, not a word wasted, not a word out of place.
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Thank you, Penelope for checking it out and your kind words. I'm glad you liked it.
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The last line of this story instantly brought tears to my eyes- truly wonderful work! Thank you for sharing your gift.
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Thank you, Tana. That's very nice of you to take the time to let me know your thoughts. I'm glad you liked it.
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What a brilliant mix of existential crisis, dry wit, and the absurdity of war. The blend of deep reflection with moments like asking why people on balconies don’t jump was darkly hilarious yet painfully honest. I loved the surreal vibe and the way you sneak philosophy into a story that’s both heart-wrenching and oddly comforting—beautifully done!
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Thank you, Anna. I'm glad you liked it, and I really appreciate your comment. I do tend to blend things as you mentioned and lean into the surreal/absurd at times.... Thanks again!
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Victor, this story felt so spacious, like a big stretch of blue sky, because of your immerse and concise style of writing, and because you left the spaces for the reader to work with, including the hopeful open ending. So well done.
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Thank you Geir, very much for your beautiful comment. Really makes my day. I do enjoy leaving spaces for the reader. A friend of mine calls them "cracks in the floorboards", something she does too. I'm glad you liked the story. Thanks again!
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Enjoyed the story and it left me with a lot to think about. I pray that Alexander's hope if fulfilled and he finds his missing piece. Congratulations on your win!
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Thank you, Shruti. It was a nice surprise, and I hope Alexander finds his piece, too!
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You take us into the head of Alexander, and help us see the world through his eyes. A unique and haunting story, and so beautifully written. Congrats on the win!
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Thank you, Karen. I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's always great to hear from other folks. Much appreciated!
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Well done! I'm always amazed when a short story can really immerse me into another world and send me on a journey in only a few minutes of reading! Thank you. Looking forward to seeing your future writing!
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Thanks a lot, Nikki. I'm glad you enjoyed it and appreciate your comment! More on the way / here!
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I love this style of writing! It feels dreamy and faraway, melancholic even, like a subtle haze over the mind as you try to process what it means to be human. I'm attached to Alexander, he has such a unique air about him that makes you see things from a distinct perspective, and that's always nice. Writing is pretty much just perspective broadening, and this story does that beautifully. Thank you for sharing!!
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Thank you E.B, I really appreciate you sharing your thoughts. It's great to hear your take on Alexander and the story. And I agree with you about the broadening of perspective; it's something I love to find in things I read, or just walking down the street, too. Thanks again for your lovely comment!
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I empathized with Alexander; hoping to get back a time not vividly remembered, but felt its presence. Victor, your writing put me there for the ride to the lab. Thoroughly enjoyed the read! Congratulations and much success to you!
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Thank you, Bonnie. Very nice of you to drop a comment. Glad you enjoyed the ride to the lab, and all the best to you, too!
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So interesting! I feel myself probing the words for what is real and what isn’t, which I imagine is the whole point! A well written story. So clear and so murky, just like Alexander’s mind.
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I do tend to teeter between the real and the unreal, or the real and the surreal, I suppose. Thank you for your lovely comment, Anna. I'm glad you liked the story!
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Wow. Economy of words is astounding...smack down or what!
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Thank you, Zaneta. I try to be succinct, most of the time I guess, at least in writing. At a party in person, I probably rattle on....:) Thanks for reading and the comment!
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I love the way you ended the piece. It has that brilliant mix of poetry and a space for the reader to linger with what they've just read. Great job.
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Thank you. I do tend to leave things open for lingering, as you say. A friend of mine calls them "gaps in the floorboards"...:) Glad you enjoyed it, ST, and thanks again!
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Very unique, abstract at times yet you manage to conjure so much imagery.
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Thank you, Elena. I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. Glad you enjoyed it,
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Great story. Powerful. Well done and congratulations 🙌
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Thank you, Helen. I'm glad you enjoyed it. And congratulations to you, too, on "Bubbles". I'd already read and commented on it before the decisions arrived. A lovely tale of birth and the promise of life.
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Wonderful story. You've managed to capture the vagaries of his mind in a captivating way. The intrigue of what the treatment will be and where he will go from here has me wishing this wasn't limited to 3000 words.
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Thank you, Nina. I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was fun writing around the prompt. Those pushes tend to help me get the gears spinning. If I've left you intrigued about the treatment and Alexander's future, I must admit it's not a word limit thing. I frequently leave things open to the reader's speculations. Cracks in the floorboards, a friend of mine says..:) Thanks again. I appreciate you taking the time to read and leave a comment.
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