I stared at the bright, swirling light of the full moon and wondered if this is what love felt like.
This was one of the outcomes of a game night of word play with friends. The context of the story is that this is the thought of a young boy, middle school age, sitting upon the roof top above the internment camp where he lives. He stares at the sky with his schizophrenic eyes which see the sky as though a Van Gogh painting; alive with strokes of color, bright flavor-filled light that is his universe. His illness created a playland about him and coupled with synesthesia, he could taste and smell the cornucopia of life about him on the roof and below in the crowded camp.
Towards the end of the story right about when his family is freed from the internment camp he begins a regimen of lithium which all but cures him of his illness and opens a new door. Now he walks about amazed at the true light of the sky, the actual vibrant colors and textures of the grass beneath his feet, the fabric of his clothes and the ability to feel a different kind of internal love keep from him by the intensity of schizophrenia that had ruled his mind and his body.
I’ve posted it on hitrecord so maybe someone will run with it and flesh out the rest, maybe illustrate it or make an animation of him staring at the night sky.