Glimpso Book One

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Patrick Keen has had a terrible accident, leaving him alone and seperated from reality.

Submitted: July 02, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 02, 2012




Book One

Volumes 1 - 4


I remember it being late winter and the slush of snow on the ground was reaching its final moments. The town I lived in was empty and desperately called out for help through the few hundred residents clawing for survival. Such a non-motivational area, nature was flat and dead, each resident held a piece of discrimination towards you, and the local events were nothing more than a gathering of senior citizens.

Maybe my accident was meant to happen. I was driving my broken old Cadillac alongside of my town’s industrial park. Trash on the road followed me the whole way. I recall squinting to see, the glare of the sun blinded me and my car began rolling over and over viciously on a turn. Metal and glass submerged the car as I broke pieces of plastic off with my skull and flew airborne around the back seat of my vehicle.

As the accident was finally over, and my ears recovered I noticed myself covered in Dr. Pepper and dirt. I spit chunks of glass out through my mouth and nose. I immediately attempted to exit my car, but something was stopping me. "Goddamn." I said. My body felt weak and I grew very tired. Before the explosion i remember seeing my town from a distance, squiggling like a mirage in a desert from the gas that protruded into the air. I questioned my survival.

Doctors insisted that I wasn't in the car when it exploded, that I would have had no chance at all of living. But again, I survived without a single injury. Life went on. I got a job and paid bills and even had plans of eventually moving to Kentucky. Much to my surprise, I was going somewhere beyond that, far away from the chatter of humans. Prior to this understanding, I had multiple appointments with specialists to figure out what was happening to me but I never had a straight answer.

"You're being paranoid, relax." "It's just a sore throat." "Believe it or not, we see this kind of thing all of the time." Those were the type of examinations I had. My voice grew quieter over the next few months, it seemed harder to speak. I could taste burned fuel in the back of my throat, I knew now that I needed help. Maybe I was going crazy, I continued searching for a doctor to help me but it became too late.

I lost my voice completely sometime around April of 1992, I was eighteen years old. Immediately after it happened I noticed laziness in me more than ever, it felt like gravity was working against me. The doctors ran hundreds of tests to determine what was wrong with me, but there was never a solution. Near the end of '92 I started to forget what my voice sounded like, it happened sooner than I expected.

The very few times I got out of my hospital bed I would always blankly stare at the indention from my body in it. It scared me to think to myself that the small valley of covers was my home. February of 1993 I lost all movement, I was completely paralyzed. Doctors fed me threw a small tube that ran down into my stomach. It was hard digesting food when I wasn't even hungry I must say. Along with my motionless body I had no sense of smell. My ears and eyes is all I had left.

--------------------------------------------------PROLOGUE END--------------------------------------------------


--------------------------------------------------SCENE ONE--------------------------------------------------

Abel: Sir, we need you to at least go see him. Without a goddamn clue of what he even looks like how are you supposed to write?

Reporter: I’ll write a story!! You don’t need to worry about me! You’re better off gettin’ your nose out of my ass. I’ll fire you just as easy as I brought you on to this!

The silence ate at the two men, neither one intended to stand down. The Reporter gave his suit a yank and tilted his head backwards, like a beaten pup Abel turned away. Despite The Reporters greed and ignorance, the world loved him. Women practically bow down before him, and men follow every last one of his commands, he was also no doubt the richest person alive. For years reporters and analysts begged the Francis Hospital to allow them to see Patrick Keen, the man always sleeping.

The world went into an uproar when Patrick lost his hearing and vision. He was no longer able to communicate with anyone but himself. However, sadly enough the world seemed to not care too much for him necessarily nor why he was the way he was, but for the money they could make off of meeting him. The world famous ‘Reporter’ now has the one and only opportunity to meet Patrick Keen. Whatever is left of him.

Abel: I’m not trying to start any conflict between us. This is your big moment sir! I’m excited for you. And helping your success is my life.

Reporter: I know. And I also know you would die for me! Ha-ha! Wouldn’t ya Abel?

Abel: Y-Yes s-sir I would…

Reporter: Abel, tomorrow when I meet Patrick I’m going to need to take a sample of his blood. You know, just for some personal experiments. We both realize that the doctors won’t let that happen, so you’re going to have to do it for me. I can distract---

Abel: ---S-Sir!?

Reporter: Just listen to me! My reputation is, well, more valuable than yours. You can afford to take a hit from the media, I can’t. However, I can afford to bail you out legally, if you catch my drift. Whad’ya say Abel?

Abel glared into the Reporters eyes, begging in his mind for laughter from him. The question stood strong in his thoughts. “He’ll have me killed if I say no, but I mine as well be dead if I get caught.” He thought to himself.

Abel: I’ll trust your word, Eddie, I’ll do it.

--------------------------------------------------SCENE ONE END--------------------------------------------------


--------------------------------------------------SCENE TWO--------------------------------------------------

I see darkness more clearly now, it seems that the flashing beneath my eyelids have produced colors and shapes. When I think of my family or my town memories it almost looks like a picture. I’ve also noticed how much better I’m getting at relaxing myself and painting a mental photo of something. A bit of a guilty confession, but sometimes I pretend that I’m a powerful being running through the streets of my town expelling  of the hellish crime that awaits innocent bystanders.

And other times I’m murdering and torturing the helpless children who I feel deserve my pain and suffering. I recall multiple incidents of hanging a toddler by his feet and smacking him in his face. “I want you to fucking cry!” I thought to myself. When I felt my heart beat faster I began punching the boy, and ripping and clawing at is face. His body dangled around helplessly as I retrieved a knife to cut the rope sending his face smashing into the spikes beneath him.

Each time I caused harm to someone, it’s usually this small boy. He looks just like me, it is me, I can’t determine if I hate myself, or perhaps just self-pity. Normally I always pretend I’m fighting crime, but usually it ends with my life as a child. I loved being a child. I subconsciously knew I was always putting responsibility on hold for later on in my life, which now it meant nothing. I am nothing more than an ever expanding train of thought, Helpless and yet a tyrant of a more powerful kind.

At this point I forgot certain traits of myself, under my circumstances, I lost thought about judgment, and it was more or less action without consequences. This is when I decided to begin life all over again, and this time everything was much easier to handle. Entertainment in my imagination helped me grasp ahold of my new reality. It assisted in making it feel more real to me. And despite my loss of senses, it seemed I may have gained some new ones, some powers.

I remember walking down a dim lit road. I notice a dark figure behind a tree. It’s hard to determine what it is exactly, everything is painted black and white. I hear the figure following me along side of the road tiptoeing over every footstep I leave behind me.

Creature: I am you, Patrick. I AM YOU!

The faint voice made me run down the never ending road, scared and confused, I then see the boy I once was again. I yelled at the toddler and began running faster at the boy and reaching my arms out to grab his. And for once, I wanted to save his life. Sadly, he slowly drifted away into nothing. The flashing in my eyes caught my attention back to the ‘old’ reality I nearly forgot about. I was just Patrick Keen again, a man with nothing to attend to.

I’ll never smell a pot roast again, or a beautiful flower that vibrantly blows in the wind. I’ll never hear the laughter of my mother or father, not even the sound of birds chirping. Never again will I stand up and stretch, and feel the cold hardwood floor against my feet. Never again will I experience harmony, well, not until the day I finally die. Too bad that day can’t come sooner. The question sometimes lingers in my mind, perhaps I am already dead?

--------------------------------------------------SCENE TWO END--------------------------------------------------


--------------------------------------------------SCENE THREE--------------------------------------------------


Reporter: I’m afraid Abel was the one who did it, your honor.  I will not accept these consequences. However, I will admit I suspected Abel of this.

Judge: Hmm. Alright, you may step down. Abel Sterling, how do you plead?

Abel glanced over at the Reporter in terror, the only bit of hope he had was in the hands of this abysmal man.

Abel: Guilty.

Two bailiffs arrested Abel immediately, as he left the courtroom the Reporter gave him a wink. Days went by and things returned to normal, in spite of Abel getting arrested the Reporter still had the information he wanted from Patrick’s DNA.

Reporter:  My god, just as I expected! Aha! Abel, you fool! You fucking fool! Enjoy your life in prison, it’s now my opportunity to change my world. Everyone’s world, It’s mine.

--------------------------------------------------SCENE THREE END--------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------SCENE FOUR--------------------------------------------------

It’s a damn shame what some of these people believe they can do. And yet, these guiltless civilians who sit back and take for granite what I truly have done for them, their just as bad. I created this town for wandering souls like my own, and yet most of them believe in corruption. I’ll admit, I’m not yet strong enough to bring light into this world but goddamn at least it’s something for them.

I may have the time to generate currency and nourishment, but in a world like this one who wants it? I’m still human and my thoughts whether they are evil or moral will flow into my reality like an out of control freight train. People need to accept that, it’s still energy and it will feed at everything that becomes existent, despite how it is perceived. I love everything about my world, and I now have the time to truly decide what should become of it.

Civilian: Are you God? Is that your true identity?

My people are just shadows merged in with my dark world, growing stronger as I start to believe more and more that this is real.

Patrick: My name is Patrick Keen, yes. You can consider me a God, but not the God. What’s your name?

Calvin: I’m Calvin. I-I’m not sure how I got here. What am I? How do I know how to communicate with you and with others?

Patrick: I’m communicating for you, actually. I’m your creator.

Calvin: Is this my imagination?

Patrick: HA! More like my imagination.

The conversation with Calvin ended abruptly. I still get distracted from the flashing and vague memories of my former life. It happens often when I use my name, or here certain words that identify back to my first life. I’ve learned to quickly return back to my new realism as the new Patrick. I still sleep, and when I sleep it’s much more informal than it was before. My dreams help me permanently build my world, and add texture and life, then again I hardly recognize when I’m awake or not.

I can’t help but to think sometimes that my people, like Calvin, have a mind of their own. It doesn’t feel like thoughts and imagination so much anymore, it feels real for both of us. The insignificant difference between them and me is they consider me their God. I think it may be my duty to protect them. Humans in my old reality had a protection of their own, like air and gravity. I must save the deserving people in my world from the troubled thoughts I may accidently, or purposely, let flow in.

Patrick: Calvin? Can you hear me…….?

Patrick: Calvin?

Sometimes it can be strenuous getting back to the state of mind where I essentially drift away out of my body, this time it was much harder. Perhaps I was dreaming again, when I finally made it I could literally feel a gust of wind propelling through my hair, I heard distant chatter of my people discussing personal issues and even my first tree was towering above me.

Calvin:  Patrick!! Help us!!

Glaring over my shoulder I noticed Calvin and another shadow of a person dangling off the side of a murky road with nothing assembled beyond it but darkness and forever.

Patrick: Don’t be afraid, Calvin.

With no more than a glare, the road went on for miles and miles, more trees and hills surrounded him, I watched as I painted the picture of his world in front of his eyes.

Calvin: What about the other man? He’s... Gone.

Patrick: Only you can know who I am, Calvin. You can’t tell anyone else what I’m capable of.

Calvin: You k-killed him.

Patrick: I simply removed him. He is relocated on to the next reality. Death is a broad term Calvin. Don’t be so certain it is chained to such unconsciousness.

Calvin: Why exactly are we here? What is your purpose anyways, Patrick?

Patrick: Not even I can answer that question, just live and make the greatest of it. And I’ll do my best to protect everyone, and everything I’ve created. I’ll lay down my authority soon enough, I have much greater plans than to be this God you see me as.

Calvin: If not a God, then what?

Patrick: A part of me was once forgotten, I plan to bring it back to life.

--------------------------------------------------SCENE FOUR END--------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------SCENE FIVE--------------------------------------------------

My world is slowly piecing itself together one by one. Hundreds of people now are living in it and accepting the odd surroundings as a normal atmosphere to be in. As trees multiplied they also grew larger, as nature bounded my inhabitants animals projected from the ground already with a sense to consume smaller organisms. My forgotten intelligences resurrected into the world I had created, and now I slowly am losing control over the immense population.

I’m not only forgetting about my old way of living, I forget that I created my new one. I’m now living my own life exactly how I’ve always wanted it. Well, almost. My roads and wildlife are still dark, my people have identical features, and they know nothing more than simple communication amongst each other. This though will fix itself on its own. However, I need to find my true purpose before the Patrick Keen I once was is gone forever.

This world is becoming too perfect. It feels like a ticking time bomb as I watch my people pass by one another repeating the same routines.  As I fall deeper into this new reality I officially lost control over the presence of my world. Trees grew enormous and blocked out the gloomy sky that I sluggishly placed above our heads. Sounds that I had never fathomed to exist clattered in the distant forest.

My people continued to enlarge and our capacity became less, it was then when I heard the first dispute.  I looked through the dark doorway of my newly created cottage and listened to the uneducated individuals shout at each other.

Calvin: What’s happening Patrick, what do we do?

Patrick: It’s about time, Calvin. This needs to happen. Let’s see how these two handle the situation.

The man’s physique grew larger. This is now the first man to have a separate body structure than everyone else. The man towered over his enemy. His black eyes scorched his competitor’s outlook on the situation. The man smashed his foe to the ground leaving Patrick and Calvin in astonishment. Civilians attacked the towering monster. Their aggressive behavior fed the man making him grow bigger and build more chaos.

Flocks of people became mindful of their true capabilities. Some gave in to the immoral behavior while others stood back and refrained from these wicked actions. The brutes congregated together and marched into the thick forest with plans of anarchy I suspect. With my world being almost limitless, a solution needed to be thought out. With Calvin being my only trusted acquaintance, I turned to him for advice.

Calvin: Patrick, you’re the creator of all of this. You need to—

Patrick: --creator? You’re right, I built this dream. But it’s so real.

Calvin: Who’s to determine what is real or fake? What we have in front of us is a community of people capable of absolute catastrophe. The only object strong enough to stand a chance against them is you.

Patrick: Calvin… I may not be mentally fit to take on such a form of authority.

Calvin: You’re the creator, Patrick!! God dammit!! Limit us. Limit yourself if you must, but you’re always in control! That responsibly is on you no matter what. And you know something Patrick, I can think, I can feel, I breathe air, I can hear--I

Patrick: H…H…Hear?  I--I can’t…

My head began spiraling and I lost the world again, the dreadful torment I was currently enduring convinced me I was dying. I couldn’t breathe, though the sporadic colors and shapes behind my eyelids were gorgeous and distracting from the agony. The terror a person feels after a nightmare coursed through my body, with no effort I was back to my new reality. I could hear Calvin yelling my name. I could see my world in front of my eyes once again. This time, I was prepared.

Devastation filled the streets and the treetops were intertwined with each other occupied with gangs forming their own above ground civilization, quickly formulating plots against decent people. The grey forested world became even darker as the moonlight took over, the sounds of falling trees and tortured servants echoed across the plains. The slight quantity of good people I had left retreated to their homes, scared and helpless. I smiled with the thought of what was still to come.

--------------------------------------------------SCENE FIVE END--------------------------------------------------


--------------------------------------------------SCENE SIX--------------------------------------------------

I could hear the enormous footsteps of the gigantic man and his army of freshly corrupted creatures  pushing their way closer to our safe residence, and Patrick was nowhere in sight. After the conversation between him and me I assume he’s gone, the duty he had of caring for his people was too much for him to handle. My minimal understanding for any of this leaves me no choice but to perish like the rest of his creations that are currently hording in their homes.

In a world with nothing but black and white, and not a thing to do, who wants to live anyways? Our creator is frightened and lazy. He holds no answers not even a bit of reassurance. The biggest question of all is why am I here, what will happen after these final remaining minutes of my life get trampled over by this massive tormenter? Patrick insists we are his imagination yet I feel like my own life, what a novice God we have.

It’s time. I can see the tree’s falling now and foul men running alongside of the huge monster, the ground beneath me trembled and split. My home fell to pieces as the quake thundered through my weak walls. I looked through the tree lines noticing a stunning new shade fill the sky, the forest and ruined roads lit up halting the army instantaneously. A bright ball of light hung above our heads and a figure ascended down from the sky.

Patrick: Do not worry!!

Calvin: Patr—

Glimpso: --my name is Glimpso. I was sent here to protect you all. I am not your God. I’m nothing more than a helping hand. I bring with me the color purple, so let the symbol of light above your heads be a sign of safety that I’m always here to protect you.

Glimpso’s voice roared across the forest, forcing the enemies to retreat back to where they came. Patrick had taken on a more powerful form, a marvelous champion to protect his world. He brought with him more than one color, he fetched identities and individual traits and lives for each of his worthy creations, including myself. My face is its own my eyes were unique, and our world was brand new.

I noticed the look in his eyes that he had finally accomplished what he wanted, with hopes he doesn’t abuse his power we may just be able to start a natural life here. With our bright purple sun above giving our world a blissful sensation, and my friend dedicating such time to us there is much hope for the future. In the world of Glimpso we depend on our Idol, we rest on the fact he is looking out for us. As for me, I know what he truly has done, he created us.

--------------------------------------------------SCENE SIX END--------------------------------------------------

To be continued…

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