Brain Salad Surgery

Introduction

I have an irrational dislike for the number thirteen, and I have entered thirteen stories into the Vocal Painted Prose Challenge that you can read about below.

While I don't think thirteen entries will affect my chances of winning the Challenge I feel that fourteen would be a safer number. One day I will place or win a Challenge and maybe this will be the one that does it.

This will be my fourteenth entry into the Challenge with less than eight hours to go, and I was looking for an HR Giger image to use as inspiration for this story, but most would have caused many readers to faint. He was an amazing talent but has now left this plane, but if you are brave enough to investigate further his website is here.

And about the painting

In 1973 Emerson Lake and Palmer released "Brain Salad Surgery". I thought the title was rubbish, but the HR Giger cover design was very impressive and you can see it in the introductory video.

The album was a lot better than the titles culminating in the sprawling "Karn Evil" suite.

A flexi-disk single of a song called "Brain Salad Surgery" was released free with some music paper and it was (and still is bloody awful) and was not included on the album (but is included on the deluxe CD reissue).

So here is a very short story based on this image. With this story, I will have submitted eight and a half thousand words to the Painted Prose Challenge, and that has even surprised me.

Under The Stone Mask

This is not what they said would happen. I gave myself away to save my family and expected that would be the end, but I cannot believe how sadistic they are.

I can feel the stone against my skin, against my eyes, and I can see when people come up and look at what they think is my memorial statue, but what is, in fact, my living tomb.

I sold, or rather gave parts of my body to save my family, but when they put me in this stone tomb they then told me I would be kept alive and aware of everything while they harvested parts of me to suit their clients.

I thought I would be killed and that would be it.

They feed drugs into my body to regrow parts that have been taken. This stone eco tomb is designed to keep me alive almost indefinitely.

They joke that I am effectively immortal, but only they know that.

I cannot talk, but they know that I can hear, every word that they want me to. Friends and family come to pay their respects to me, if only they knew that I was still alive. The outside of this stone coffin case looks like a skeleton, so my family, just assume that I am dead. They can see my coffin, which I know now is a stone second skin.

I cannot move, I cannot breathe but am kept alive by tubes delivering nutrients. I know that I will soon go mad, but no one will know. I am just like a carvery for human body parts.

They will come and take what they want knowing that in a couple of weeks, it will have grown back.

I want to die. I didn't sign up for this, but I have no way to escape.

I just hope my brain will shut down.

I cannot shout or scream.

The inner mask is a beautiful face, the outer mask is a horrific grey skeleton.

Please, Please, Please God, Just Let Me go .......

There Will Be No End