Sam Ruddick

Hallucination

A coworker comes into my office, tries to update me on one of our accounts. I can hear his pant legs brush against one another when he shifts his weight, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. Fluorescent light reflects off his glasses, so instead of eyes I see electric white rectangles. I hear a blip behind me, followed by my name -- “Mr. Ruddick?” -- and I’m afraid to turn around. If I’m hearing things, I don’t want anyone to know. My coworker stops talking, cocks his head and stares at me for a moment. “Are you going to get that?” he asks.

The buzzing of flies around my head folds the air instead of filling it, strobes on and off, as though I’m covering and uncovering my ears with my hands, but my hands are folded on my lap, and the sound of chains is consistent, like metallic rain, as the porch swing goes forward, back, slowly, the way the afternoon moves. If I close my eyes and listen to these sounds, I see a horror movie, ghosts and torn flesh, blood and darkness, but when I open them it’s a beautiful day. The sky isn’t cloudy, exactly, but it’s white, a cold haze spread out like a clean cotton sheet stretched between the treetops, and in this light the colors seem vibrant, purple and yellow flowers growing in the dusty green grass.

Standing in the lobby of a hotel in Chicago, waiting to check out. The carpeting is so red and the light an unpleasant yellow, and voices rise to the high ceiling, fill the large, open room, like a cacophony of frogs repeating my name; “Mr. Ruddick. Mr. Ruddick.” They are wearing tiny tuxedo vests, top hats and black bowties, and I think if I just don’t tell anyone, they’ll go away, but when it’s my turn they’re still there, and I have to try very hard to keep my cool; I have to strain to hear the snowy-skinned young woman behind the front desk ask, “How was your stay?”

Sam Ruddick is a Henfield Prize winner. His work has appeared in over a dozen literary publications, including Phantasmagoria, Gulf Stream, The Sonora Review, The Red Rock Review, and Painted Bride Quarterly.