Subconscious Mind

Parallel zu Seelenträger hab ich mich nun an meiner ersten englischsprachigen Geschichte versucht. Dies wird ein Experiment – in vielerlei Hinsicht.

  • Finden sich hier englischsprache Leser?
  • Kann ich qualitative Geschichten auch auf Englisch schreiben?
  • Kann ich meine Leser mit der Thematik bei der Stange halten?
  • Wie wirkt sich das parallele Schreiben zweier Geschichten auf deren Schreibprozess aus?

Ein paar Worte zu den ersten drei Parts, die eine Art Einleitung darstellen und stilistisch als Einheit gesondert vom Rest der Geschichte funktionieren, da sie sehr abstrakt und poetisch geschrieben sind. Sollte euch der Stil nicht gefallen, gebt mir mit Part 4 eine Chance, euch doch noch zu überzeugen.

Subconscious Mind

Part 1

Darkness. Floating. Nothing. Was he, or wasn’t he? Time did not exist. Nor did feelings. But somehow, he knew, he was inside himself. A prisoner of his own body without a way to communicate with the world outside. He hardly understood the meaning of “outside”. But then he noticed something else … A light —a glowing spot—and somehow, he knew, it was different from the darkness surrounding him. It was opposed to it. He tried to touch it, but the moment he did, yet it turned dark again within the same moment. However, this time something was different. The light was not gone for good—it was inside him. Of course, he was aware how ridiculous his assumption seemed to be, as he already was inside himself. He would have laughed, but he had no voice, no control over the muscles necessary to create sounds. In case this really was his body, encapsulating him and holding him captive, he had no control over it.

Eventually the light turned into a thought, a realization, a memory perhaps. The world outside existed. And he was once there, too. But he had no idea, how he came here and how he could escape this prison. Nothing happened. Time passed. Did it? Did time exist down here? Everything was absolutely similar in that darkness. Then, another light turned up. It glowed and disappeared like the first one. And it turned into a thought again. Green eyes. He had no idea, whose eyes that were let alone where he had seen them. But they were kind and handsome. They looked at him comfortingly as if they wanted to say “Don’t worry. Everything is gonna be fine.” They glimpsed and the memory was over— if it was a memory.

Again, he was left alone in the darkness. Was he alone? Would someone come to his rescue? Was this even a bad place, he shouldn’t be? Another light appeared. But it was different. It wasn’t that bright. It grew and shrank, grew and shrank, grew and shrank … It was like a key hole. Something, a desire, an invisible force dragged him towards the light. He saw colors and shapes dancing inside the light, heard noises, he didn’t understand. The force pushed him further. He entered the light. The light was everywhere, surrounded him like the darkness did. But the light was warm and kind. And he heard these voices again. But he still couldn’t get out.


Was glaubt ihr, worum es hier geht?

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Um einen alkoholsüchtigen, sich ständig in Frage stellenden, postdepressiven Schriftsteller, der aufgrund eines Unfalls im Vollsuff, achtzehneinhalb Jahre lang im Koma lag und nun langsam erwacht. Wobei er noch nicht ahnt, dass seine Familie bei diesem Unfall starb. Alles deutet darauf hin.

Jetzt frag ich, wer dafür Vorbild war … :thinking:

Der typ der im Koma liegt?

Genau. Du hast das so detailliert beschrieben. Klingt wie eine Anspielung auf jemanden. Den müsste ich wiederum ja gekannt haben, um ihn dann so genau zu beschreiben, dass du ihn wiedererkennst.

Hi Zuri,

anderssprachige Geschichten sind zwar nicht so mein Ding, aber Englisch lesen und verstehen gelingt mir deutlich besser, als Englisch hören und verstehen ^^

Also geb ich der Story mal eine Chance. Wenn es die Beschreibung eines Komapatienten ist, die aus seiner Sicht heraus geschrieben wird, finde ich diese Darstellung echt gruselig und beklemmend - also definitiv ein Pluspunkt in der Kategorie Spannung. Ansonsten lässt sich noch nicht viel sagen, außer dass ich gespannt bin, wer oder was hier los ist.

Der düsteren Prognose von Regal würde ich mich aber nicht anschließen :sweat_smile:
Noch ist ja überhaupt nichts bekannt, außer dem Geschlecht des Protagonisten. Allerdings kann man seine Vermutung auch mal als lange nicht mehr gesehene, wilde Spekulation betrachten :grin:

LG
Arokh

In dem Fall würde das doch für das Genre Thriller sprechen, oder?

Das freut mich sehr :heart_eyes:

Auch wenn nicht abschließend verraten wird, was eigentlich los ist, bekommt ihr hier einige weitere Infos. Bleibt ihr bei eurer These? Was fällt euch sonst noch so ein?

Part 2

Why was he still imprisoned? Where was he now? But something changed for the better: He didn’t feel like being wrapped in cotton wool anymore. Time wasn’t standing still anymore. He wasn’t numb anymore. More than before, he felt alive. Even though he didn’t get what that all meant, but it felt better. It was like resurfacing into another layer of water, leaving deep-sea.
Eventually he tried to overhear the voices and what they said, but his concentration floated away when he wanted to listen to more than one sentence. Making it even harder, all sounds were muffled just like it really was water surrounding him, but he knew, it wasn’t.

“Will he remember?”, asked a female voice.

“Hard to say”, responded a male speaker calmly and went on to explain the odds in detail, but his brain already abandoned listening again.

He looked around, no, put his feelers of his mind, and he made another discovery: It wasn’t one light, it were lights . A thousand of them. Probably more. Way more. And if that were all thoughts, ideas, memories … was it possible that he reached his brain, reconquered his own control room? Now he realized, he could access any of these lights. Any he wanted. So he reached out to grasp one of them, flickering, tiny ball of light, very flimsy. But it shied away from his feeler. Why? This hasn’t happened before. What kind of thought was it? Why was it afraid to be touched, to be discovered?
Again he heard something from the world outside, which now felt so much nearer and more realistic. Someone moved and said from farther away: “You call me, when something changes with him, right?”

“I do.”

And he was left alone again.

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Ich bleibe bei meiner These: Der Junge/Mann liegt im Koma und es wird aus seiner “Umnachtung” heraus geschrieben. Wahrscheinlich ist es hier die Mutter, die der Komapatient gehört hat, welche sich mit seinem Arzt unterhält. Und es sieht so aus, als tut sich in ihm etwas, wenn ich es richtig verstanden habe. Es wirkt, als hat er eine Möglichkeit gefunden, irgendetwas zu bewirken, es ist ihm nur noch nicht ganz gelungen. Ich bin gespannt, ob er da im nächsten Teil mehr Erfolg haben wird - und wenn, was ihn dann auf der “lichten” Seite erwartet …

Eine faszinierende und sehr spannende Situation (ich möchte nicht mit dem Protagonisten tauschen). Weiter so, gefällt mir gut.

LG
Arokh

Ist stellenweise aber auch lustig zulesen, oder eher wie man es dem eigenen gusto entsprechend automatisch liest.

zB statt “his concentration floated away” las ich zunächst irgendwie automatisch “his concentration drifted away”, weil es meiner meinung mehr im gebrauch ist, oder weil ich es so irgendwie gelernt habe. Aber ich sah las es eben erst so, wie es geschrieben wurde. Schon seltsam, was das eigene Gehirn einem so vorspiegelt.

Persönlich würd ich allerdings wohl eher “waned” verwenden. So las ich den satz zuerst in dieser art:

“Eventually he tried to overhear the voices and to understand what they were saying, but his concentration waned when he wanted to listen to more than one sentence.”

Guter Einwand, ist mir auch aufgefallen :+1:

Allerdings hatte ich so viele Metaphern mit Wasser, dass ich “float” da gut zu passend fand … :wink:

Und hier kommt er wie versprochen auch schon:

Part 3

If he had a concept of time, where he was now, he could have quantified, how long he was alone. But then, he opened his eyes and saw … the ceiling. White. White with black dots. Dots or tiny wholes. Whatever that was, it felt cold, unwelcoming. It was silent in this room. Nothing made a noise Not even a ticking clock. Nothing.

The door snapped, shoes came closer, walked around him, stopped. Nothing happened. Or at least nothing he could see. He tried to turn his head, but his head didn’t do anything. It didn’t execute the command.

“Oh!”, the person said suddenly, when she realized, he was awake. She saw him!

Everything is gonna be fine.

Finally, he was arrived. Made contact. He felt released.

A face appeared above him. A woman.

“Can you hear me?”, she asked.

“Yes!”, he shouted out and was full of joy, that finally someone recognized him somehow.

“Oh!”, the woman said again. But disappointed. And then, it sunk in. He hadn’t said anything . His voice wasn’t back yet. The woman left the room again.

He felt more alone than ever. He had managed to escape two layers inside him, but he still wasn’t free. No light or darkness embraced him like a blanked. Just a cold world, where he was less than he was inside. It was like this world trammeled him tight. Trammeled him in a way, neither the darkness nor the light could. It made him feel weak. Useless. Stuck

The door snapped again. A familiar noise. People came or left. But it was meaningless when there was still a barrier between him and them. Again, shoes came closer. A flashlight appeared above him. The light was dazzling. It moved from one eye to the other. Then, it disappeared to the side and revealed the face of a man at his fifties, scrutinizing him.

“Can you hear me?”, he was asked again.

That was so frustrating!

“Okay”, the man said. “If you can hear me, blink.”

How could he? He couldn’t move? He was trapped.

“You can do it. I believe in you”, the man encouraged him. “Just try.”

He tried. Nothing happened. Just what he had expected. But he didn’t give up so easily. It might be hopeless, but it was his only chance.
He tried again.

“Fine.”, the man said. “Welcome back.”

Auch wenn du quasi eine reise beschreibst, würde ich hier einfach schreiben: “Finally, he mad contact.” Denn angekommen ist er wohl noch lange nicht.

edit: * “made”

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Stimmt :+1:

Mad vorallem :joy:

aktiviert endlich mal den edit button.

Offizielle Dokumente dürfen nicht radiert werden.

Als ob das ein offizielles Dokument wäre. Und Transaktionssicherheit ist durch Versionskontrolle sichergestellt.

Keine Sorge, es gibt schon weitere Kapitel (insgesamt bis Part 8), nur hängen die gerade im Edit fest. Also habt bitte noch etwas Geduld.