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MidReal Story
When My Heart Stopped Beating
Scenario:Un joven tiene una parada cardiorrespiratoria en un hospital, ahí empieza un viaje a través de su mente a un mundo diferente
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Jack Harris
imaginative, and introspective. Jack experiences a neardeath incident in the hospital due to a cardiorespiratory arrest. As he loses consciousness, he finds himself transported to a different world, where he meets a mysterious girl and discovers a piano with magical properties. This world becomes his new reality, altering his perception of life and death.
David Harris
patient, and understanding. David visits Jack in the hospital after the incident and receives news about his whereabouts without explanation. Though confused by the circumstances of Jack's disappearance and reappearance, he remains hopeful about finding his brother safe and willing to listen to his story.
Dr. Kathryn Randall
supportive, and understanding. Despite her efforts to save Jack's life during the incident, she fails to prevent the arrest. After losing him once in her care, she experiences the emotional turmoil of failure and responsibility. However, she remains hopeful about Jack's fate and the possibility of finding him alive in another hospital.
My heart stops.
Then everything goes black.
I hear a faint whisper of a voice calling my name.
"Jack? Jack, can you hear me?"
It’s a woman’s voice, but it’s not anyone I know.
I try to answer but can’t.
I’m in a hospital room, but it’s not the one I was in before.
I look around and see that it’s completely empty except for the woman standing in the corner.
She looks at me with sad eyes.
"Hello," I say.
"Where am I?"
"You’re not sure?"
The woman frowns.
"I… I don’t know. The last thing I remember is being in the hospital, and then my heart stopped, and…"
I stop talking because I have no idea what happened after that.
The woman steps forward and I see that she’s holding a small notebook and a pencil.
"My name is Emily," she says.
"Do you remember that?"
"No."
I look at her and wonder who she is and why she has a notebook and pencil with her.
She flips through the pages of the notebook and stops on one that has music written on it.
She hands me the notebook and holds the pencil.
"Can you write?"
I take the pencil and start to write music, just random notes that come into my head.
When I finish, I look up at Emily and then back down at the paper.
"What does it mean?"
Emily smiles and takes the notebook from me.
I stand up from the hospital bed, and my legs feel like jelly.
I look at Emily, and she’s watching me.
I start to walk toward the door, and she follows me.
I’m not sure why I’m walking toward the door, but I hear music coming from the other side.
It’s a melody I know, but it sounds different than when I used to play it.
The notes are perfect, as if they were played by someone who has been playing the piano their whole life.
I put my hand on the wall to steady myself as I walk down the corridor.
The music is getting louder with each step I take.
Emily is still behind me, but she doesn’t say anything.
At the end of the hallway, there is a door that is closed, but there is a light coming from underneath it.
I reach for the handle, and as I push the door open, everything changes.
The door opens, and I see a grand piano in the middle of the room.
The keys are moving on their own as if someone is playing them.
The music fills the room, but it stops when I step inside.
I look around and see a young man sitting in a chair next to the piano.
He’s wearing a hospital gown, but he looks healthy.
He smiles at me and stands up.
"Hello," he says.
"I heard you playing earlier."
I look back at Emily, but she’s not there anymore.
I turn back to the man and see that he’s walking toward me.
The corridor behind me is gone, and now there is a wall lined with old medical equipment.
My legs are still shaking, and I grip the doorframe to keep from falling.
The man comes closer and holds out his hand.
"Do you remember this place?" he asks, his voice calm and reassuring.
I shake my head, feeling a strange familiarity I can't place.
"You used to play here all the time," he says softly, "before everything changed."
The young man guides me to the piano, his hospital gown now seeming to shimmer with an otherworldly glow.
My trembling fingers brush against the polished wood as I sit on the bench.
The keys feel warm, alive beneath my touch.
I begin playing the melody I heard earlier, and with each note, the sterile hospital walls ripple like water.
Green tendrils of vegetation start creeping up from the baseboards, while medical equipment rusts and crumbles.
The young man nods encouragingly as I continue playing.
The fluorescent lights above flicker and dim, replaced by streams of natural sunlight breaking through emerging tree canopies.
My fingers continue dancing across the piano keys as nature claims the room.
A soft rustling behind me catches my attention, but I dare not stop playing for fear of breaking this transformation.
Footsteps approach slowly, deliberately.
The floorboards creak beneath what sounds like careful, measured steps.
A presence settles beside the piano bench, and from the corner of my eye, I glimpse gray hair and weathered hands folded neatly in a lap.
The melody falters as I notice her hospital bracelet - identical to mine.
My fingers move steadily across the keys again, but I don't dare look directly at her.
I sense her watching me intently, though her breathing is labored and uneven.
Her hands tremble slightly in her lap.
The music flows more naturally now, as if the piano itself is guiding my movements.
When she finally places her weathered hands on the keys beside mine, her touch is gentle but precise.
She begins playing a complementary harmony that weaves perfectly with my part.
The music swells as we play together, and I realize she's recreating the same piece I heard earlier.
The elderly woman's melody intertwines with mine, stirring forgotten memories.
Her weathered fingers dance across the keys with practiced grace, playing a song I somehow know but can't place.
I notice tears rolling down her cheeks as she plays, each note seeming to pain her.
The hospital bracelet on her wrist catches the strange light filtering through the leaves above us.
I try to read the name printed there, but my vision blurs.
My chest tightens as I recognize the harmony - it's my mother's lullaby, the one she played every night before her illness.
My fingers freeze on the keys as recognition hits me.
The elderly woman continues playing the lullaby, and the room shifts again.
The piano's polished surface ripples like water, its wood grain swirling into new patterns.
The bench beneath us starts to vibrate, and I grip the edge tightly.
Vertigo washes over me, making it hard to focus.
The natural space around us begins to fade, replaced by a familiar wallpaper - yellow with tiny blue flowers.
The elderly woman's hands blur as they move across the keys, becoming younger, smoother.
A scent I haven't smelled in years fills the air - my mother's perfume.
"Mom?" I whisper, my voice trembling with disbelief.
She smiles softly, her eyes meeting mine for the first time.
"Yes, darling," she replies, her voice as gentle as the melody we play.