[ John couldn't see. ]

John couldn't see.

He sat up slowly, and gently pushed the covers off of his body. Pausing, he listened; the night's darkness was his only answer. With a sigh, he swung his bare feet over the edge of the bed and let his feet drop onto the floor. He stood up and scraped his hands along the wall, fumbling for the lightswitch.

Strangely, he couldn't find it.

Confused, John instead reached down for his bedside lamp, meaning to turn it on manually. His hand simply groped through the air; there was no lamp, or table.

John raked his fingers through his hair, annoyed. Was his wife playing some sort of joke on him?

"Jenny, this isn't funny. Turn on the light," he said, turning in a slow circle. There was no answer; there was just the darkness, pressing in on all corners.

"Jenny, I'm not kidding..." he said slowly, wrinkling his brow in confusion and exasperation. John held his right hand out to the wall as a guide and began walking, meaning to head out of his bedroom into the hallway.

"Just wait..." he muttered to himself as he shuffled along. He felt his hand touch a corner; instinctively, he made a left turn and continued walking.

All too soon, he felt another corner beneath his hand. Confused, he turned around and went back the way he had come. There was no door. After tracing the wall once more, he was sure of it. John continued and made another left, still hugging the wall. Still, he felt no doorframe, and walked into no dressers or chairs.

Suddenly, his foot was tangled in something; with a cry, he pitched forward, and landed on something soft and springy. He began to flail around with his arms and legs, until he realized he had fallen into bed; his foot had gotten wrapped up in one of his sheets.

John surpressed a small tinge of fear and cleared his throat loudly. "Jennifer! Prank's on me, but really now, you have to turn on the light... Open the door... Jenny?" He waited a moment for a response, but got none. "Jennifer, please... I'm going to be late for work."

There was no ignoring the fear, now; he felt it group in his stomach and work its way through his body. He thought back to the night before: he remembered setting his alarm, kissing his wife, and shutting off the light...

"Just a normal night..." he muttered to himself. He untangled himself from the sheets, and rolled out of bed. On a whim, he knelt down and felt under the bed. He could feel a small box; his breath catching in his throat, he grabbed at the box and pulled it from under the bed. He sprawled out on the floor and reached further under the bed; he could feel some sort of soft-covered book. It was long, and wide; opening the cover, he could feel the rough paper. In confusion, he picked up the box and set it on his lap; he set the strange book down next to him on the floor.

Suddenly, an idea hit John; he hadn't bothered to check his pockets yet. He felt the sides of his pants, and shoved his hands roughly into his pockets; his left pocket was empty, but his right pocket had what he thought was a folded-up piece of paper, made out of the same strange material as the book he had found. With shaking hands, John pulled the paper out of his pocket and slowly unfolded it. He rubbed his hands across the surface, but couldn't feel anything special.

John tucked the box and paper back into his pocket, and tucked the thin book into his waistband. He turned around to face the wall and extended his arms blindly; in frustration, he pounded the wall with his fist, and heard a strange, metallic thud. His eyes widened in surprise; with hope, he slid his hands around the wall, feeling for any protrusions, or anything metal at all. Strangely, there was nothing.

Suddenly, John understood what had made the sound. With a trembling hand, John put his fingertips to his right elbow and began moving them down. Soon, he felt a sort of metal bracelet on his wrist. Crying out in horror, he grasped the bracelet and began pulling at it, trying to liberate himself. He whipped his right hand against the wall again, hitting the wall with the metal bracelet. He kept up this barrage, and thought he could feel the wall beginning to give way and crack.

Breathing heavily, he rubbed at the wall and started picking at the small hole he had made. He raised his right hand again, but before he got the chance to strike the wall, a blinding white light shone directly into his eyes. John fell back and landed heavily on the floor; he rubbed at his eyes in shock, blinking furiously against the fierce light.

Soon, his vision was clear enough to see; he pulled his hands away from his eyes slowly. "What the fuck is this!" he shouted in shock. John wasn't in his room: this room was small, and had one simple cot in the middle of it, against the wall. There was nothing else in this white room, nothing at all.

John turned around quickly, and heard something crinkling in his pockets. He pulled out the box and paper he had found; with dread, he opened the small brown box. Crayons fell out immediately, and rolled around on the floor. He dropped the box, and unfolded the paper once again. On it were multiple misshapen circles and lines, as if a child had gone wild with crayons. He let the paper flutter to the ground, as well. John slowly pulled the small book out of his waistband, but he was almost expecting what he saw: a child's coloring book.

At that moment, a portion of the wall slid away, and two large men in white coats entered the room...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"It's a shame, really... He used to be quite brilliant before his breakdown," explained Dr. Cox. "Now, moving on..."

"Excuse me, Dr.? What exactly happened to that man?" questioned one of the students, his notebook and pen eagerly in hand. Dr. Cox sighed before pointing through the one-way window, into John Rodder's cell.

"Like I said, Michael, Mr. Rodder had a mental breakdown. Went insane, really... Attacked his wife Jennifer. She still hasn't recovered."

Inside the cell, Dr. Cox and the students could clearly see the two attending doctors wrestle the screaming, babbling patient to the floor.

"This part is really never pleasant... We should move on to the next cell," said Dr. Cox uncomfortably. "If you'll step right outside this door..."

The students turned and filed out of the room; Michael paused and gazed back at John momentarily, a sad look on his face, before turning away and following the other students. Dr. Cox followed them, pausing only to shut out the lights of the observatory.

Darkness.