The soft wool of the blue duvet enclosed me into my own world. A flashlight’s glow was a medley of bright pigments illuminating my world. Time seemed to have stopped, as I evaded into my books. My books gave me freedom, and control in a world which I couldn’t. It was an asylum, especially after the accident. One which changed my life.

The trees were glistening in a new spring, their flowers blooming and attracting new life. The smell of honey and morning dew filled the sky, and life was bustling. Ripe apples were ready to fall, which gave me the idea to collect my own. The apple tree was 200 years old and towered over me menacingly. My only option was to carefully climb it. I started the rough journey up, with the support of a ladder, until I reached the summit. The dense bark became soft and patterned with life. I glanced out into the view from the pinnacle of the tree. The world became just me and nature as I felt all my thoughts and worries escaping the palm of my hand. The sights were breathtaking, and they placed me in a trance of oblivion. I lost consciousness and could feel my body falling. Panic and anxiety took control as I fell to the ground. The world went black, as the sights and sounds faded.

My daze ended in a small, white room. I rested on a soft white bed, and my body was feeling very tense. Workers dressed in white cloaks surrounded my bed, each having a worried expression covering their faces. I figured I was in a hospital since surgical monitors and machines functioned around me. I started to rise, simply to no effect. I felt a new, uncomfortable feeling of lost control, one which placed my body in an unfamiliar notion. The doctors sighed despairingly, and exchanged united signals. A tall man with gelled hair and a worried smile painted on his face approached me. “There is no easy way to say this, Corman. Your legs are paralyzed, and treatment could not save it.” He was too ashamed to show his face, and backed up quickly. I jerked wildly and tried to maneuver my legs. Unresponsive, I broke down into tears, thousands of thoughts rushing in and out of my mind. I tossed and turned uncontrollably, how could my body betray me?

The sound of the crisp pages turning at my fingertips delighted me. I pranced through the pages, scouring for my favorite chapter. Suddenly, I heard a loud sound in front of me. Curiosity swarmed through me, as I used my cane to examine the spot. The number “12:00” stared at me as the hardwood floor creaked and caved under me. I found a book, which usually would not confound me. But this book in particular had peculiar traits, and gave me an ambiguous feeling of unfamiliarity. The dusty cover represented its antiquity, and the pages stained with text. The scent represented its character, enriching the reader with the welcoming feeling of a story. As my fingers ruffled and danced through the pages, a realization struck me; the book was blank, and the text was a figment of my imagination.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my possessions skitter spontaneously into thin air. But I remained riveted upon the new book, the compulsion to scour its pages overcame me. Suddenly, the floor below me tossed and turned like a vessel on stormy waters. Book in my hand, I rushed to the bed, which had mysteriously disappeared.

I looked around and confirmed that I was no longer in my bedroom. The book rested in the nook of my arm, and my cane was no longer grasped in my hand. I felt my body sway bellow me and was prepared to tumble. As I closed my eyes, I felt a security which was tangible. One that seemed faded throughout my life, but always hinted its presence. I could walk freely once again.