feignedhollywood

 It's nearing seven in the evening. I'm in the psychiatric ward. The walls are an off white and the light above me is flickering. The psychiatric ward is near the surgical rooms and I see a doctor walk out with mask and sterile hands. He doesn't shake as I do. I am taking care of a patient with schizophrenia. He says he sees fire, on everything. He explain it's green like sea foam, and it doesn't burn things. It is just warm, and smells of smoke. I nod my head trying not to feed his notions and I push him in a wheel chair back to his room. He has just arrived. He was screened not but a few hours ago and was admitted soon after. At least he is

 The call rolled in around, I don't know, let's say eight? My play was opening tonight. "Rebirth" a play by Christopher Roberts, was starting this evening, a late show at nine. I was running late to pre-show but that's not why I ran the red light. The red light, a beacon to tell cars to stop, obviously, was only ran because I got a call on my cell phone from a panicked Sylvia. "Shit!" she screams. "Holy shit, Christopher!" she yells. My sensitive, curious ear listens to her heavy breathing. I question, and she replies, in a hurry. "You'll never believe this! One of the spotlights? Yeah, one of those huge heavy spotlights fell and made a huge