New fiction: “My brain’s a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.
From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. But I’m not letting myself be fooled.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. He just keeps pummeling.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “He didn’t like to talk about his brother much in those days. By New Fiction: “Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. | not letting myself be fooled.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them. New fiction: “Babies get fevers. By New fiction: “At night, I’d stare at my wife’s back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I’d see a ridge too high to climb.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “One of the things my dad sent me was 32 rolls of toilet paper.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. | Decameron Project. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “A hundred twenty days have passed since someone last touched you.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. I wanted to believe him.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. But I’m not letting myself be fooled.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “He didn’t like to talk about his brother much in those days. By New fiction: “Although everyone is behind on everything, they feel sure that they are a little more behind than everyone else.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Yet they all came with some complications.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. | New fiction: “The world came to a screeching halt, and so did your good feelings about it being a worthy endeavor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “‘First, I have to ask you: How attached are you to your memories?’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “She used to tell me, ‘If he is going to imagine something, let him imagine his home country.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “At the exact moment of the death of time, if I remember correctly, I was lying in the hammock staring out over nothing but empty streets.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. ‘Nothing’s ever your fault.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. ‘Nothing’s ever your fault.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By John Wray New fiction: “She used to tell me, ‘If he is going to imagine something, let | By New fiction: “‘First, I have to ask you: How attached are you to your memories?’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “At the exact moment of the death of time, if I remember correctly, I was lying in the hammock staring out over nothing but empty streets.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “The world came to a screeching halt, and so did your good feelings about it being a worthy endeavor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “She used to tell me, ‘If he is going to imagine something, let him imagine his home country.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. ‘Nothing’s ever your fault.’” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “A hundred twenty days have passed since | out over nothing but empty streets.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By Esi Edugyan New fiction: “The consular officers keep telling me I should be patient, I will have better luck next time.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. New fiction: “Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By New fiction: “No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them. By New fiction: “At night, I’d stare at my wife’s back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I’d see a ridge too high to climb.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. By Rivka Galchen New fiction: “‘You’re addicted to being awkward,’ his mother said to him that afternoon. By Kamila Shamsie New fiction: “Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. Between them lay a gentle hatred.” From the magazine’s
New fiction: “My brain’s a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project.
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The Decameron Project
David Mitchell: ‘If Wishes Was Horses,’ a Short Story
ByDavid MitchellJuly 7, 2020
The Decameron Project
New Fiction
“No sea view? For 900 quid a week? TripAdvisor’s gonna hear ’bout this.”
She snorts. “On the plus side, Your Majesty, you’ve got your penthouse all to yourself. Jacuzzi. Sauna. Minibar.” She taps in the code, swipes her card and the LED goes green. “Home away from home.” Bolts clunk and the door opens. Bog-standard 8-by-14 foot cell. Shitter. Desk. Chair. Locker. Dirty windows. Seen better. Seen worse.
The door shuts behind me — revealing the bunk bed with some bastard lying on the top. He’s an Arab, Indian, Asian, something. He’s as not pleased to see me as I’m not pleased to see him. I bang on the door. “Oy! Guard! This cell’s occupied!”
No joy.
“Guard!”
Daft bloody moo’s moved on.
Today’s outlook: heavy cloud, all day.
Dump my bag on my bed. “Great.” I look at the Asian bloke. He ain’t got that Rottweiler glint, but yer don’t take nothing for granted. I’m guessing he’s Muslim. “Just came from Wandsworth,” I tell him. “I’m s’posed to be in quarantine. One to a cell. My cellmate had the virus.”
“I tested positive,” Asian Bloke says, “at Belmarsh.”
Belmarsh is a Cat A prison. I’m thinking, Terrorism?
“No,” Asian Bloke says. “I’m not an ISIS sympathizer. No, I don’t pray toward Mecca. No, I don’t have four wives and 10 kids.”
Can’t deny I was thinking it. “Yer don’t look ill.”
“I’m asymptomatic.” He clocks. I ain’t sure what that means. “I’ve got the antibodies, so I don’t get sick, but I have the virus, and I can pass it on. You really shouldn’t have been put in here.”’
Voilà. Classic Ministry of Justice fuck-up. There’s an emergency call button, so I press the CALL button.
“I was told the guards here cut the wires,” Asian Bloke says. “Anything for a quiet life.”
I believe it. “Prob’ly too late by now, anyway. Viruswise.”
He lights up a roll-up. “You may be right.”
“Happy fucking birthday to me.”
Water chunders down a pipe.
“Is it your birthday?” he asks.
“Just an expression.”

Day 2.Pogo Hoggins, who I was banged up with at Wandsworth, snored like a Harrier jump jet. Zam the Asian Bloke’s a silent sleeper, and I wake in OK nick. When the floor-hatch is slid open for the breakfast tray, I’m ready on my knees to get the porter’s attention. “Oy, Mate.”
A weary-as-hell, “What?”
“First off, there’s two of us banged up in here.”
I see a Nike trainer, a shin and a trolley wheel. “Not according to my printout.” Big Black Geezer, by the sound of it.
Zam joins me at the gap. “Your printout’s wrong, as you can hear. And we’re supposed to be in isolation, in single cells.”
Big Black Geezer shuts the hatch with his foot. It sticks for long enough for me to ask for a second breakfast box.
“Yeah, nice try.” The hatch slams shut.
“You eat it,” Zam says. “I’m not hungry.”
The box has a pig on it, with a speech bubble saying, “Two succulent pork sausages!” “What, ’cause yer can’t eat pork?”
“I eat very little. It’s one of my superpowers.”
So I wolf down the single sausage. It ain’t succulent, and it ain’t pork. I offer Zam the crackers and out-of-date yogurt. Once again, he says no. Don’t need to be told twice.
Today’s outlook: cloudy, with bright patches.
The telly’s a knackered box of junk, but today it gives a bit o’Channel 5. “The Ricki Pickett Show.” Must be a repeat: Everyone’s packed into the studio, breathing in one another’s germs. Today’s show’s called “My Mum Cradle-Snatched My Boyfriend.” Used to watch Ricki Pickett with Kylie when she was pregnant with Gem. Used to find all them snarling whinging sad sacks tearing chunks out of each other funny. Not now. Even the saddest, poorest and sorriest have got what I ain’t. They don’t even know it.

Day 3.Feel rough. Nasty cough. I asked Big Black Geezer for the doctor. Said he’d put me on the list, but he still gave us only one breakfast and one lunch box. Zam told me to eat it. Said I’d need to keep my strength up. Ain’t been out of our cell once. No exercise yard. No shower. Thought quarantine’d be a doss, but it’s bad as solitary. The telly gave us half an hour of ITV news. Prime Minister Spaffer Bumblefuck says, “Stay alert!” President Very Stable Genius says, “Drink bleach!” Half of America still reckons he’s God’s Gift. What a place. There was a bit about how the stars are coping with lockdown. Didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Then the telly conked out. Did a few press-ups, but my cough came back. Ain’t only air I’m gasping for. I’ll ask Big Black Geezer to hook me up with spice. Double bubble on tic but needs must. Lunch was powdered oxtail soup. Foxtail soup, more like. Drank it down and saw this rat on the edge of the sink. Big brown bastard. Could chew yer toe off. “See Mr. Rat? Acts like he owns the place.”
“He does,” Zam said, “in several senses.”
Chucked my trainer at it. Missed.
Only when I got up did Mr. Rat scuttle off down a hole under the bog. I stuffed some pages of the Daily Mail in to block it off.
All the excitement wore me out.
Shut my eyes and slid downhill.
Today’s outlook: overcast; rain later.
Thought ’bout Gemma, the last time Kylie brought her to Wandsworth. She was 5 then. She’s 7 now. On the outside, time’s fast and slow. Inside, it’s slow. Lethally. Gem brought her new My Little Pony to Wandsworth. Kylie got her for her birthday and told her was from me. Actually it was a Fake My Little Pony from a pound shop, but Gem didn’t mind. She named it Blueberry Dash. She said it was basically a good pony but a bit naughty ’cause it peed in the bath.
“The things they come out with, eh?” Zam said.

Day 4.The quack said, “Mr. Wilcox, I’m Dr. Wong.”
Saw Chinese eyes above his mask. My throat hurt, but it was an open goal: “I’d rather have Dr. Right.”
“If I had a tenner every time I heard that, I’d be in my mansion in the Cayman Islands.” He seemed all right. Took my temperature with an ear gizmo. Took my pulse. Took a swab from up my nostril. “The testing’s still woefully haphazard, but I’d say you have it.”
“So is it off to a clinic full of pretty nurses?”
“Half the pretty nurses are off sick, and the clinic is full. As is the overspill ward. As long you’re merely uncomfortable, you’re best off roughing it out here. Believe me.”
My hearing was weird. When Zam asked ’bout the special Covid hospital in East London, his voice sounded far-off.
“They’re not admitting prisoners,” Dr. Wong told me.
Pissed me off, that. “Are they afraid I’ll nick my own ventilator and flog it on eBay? Or is it that us guests of Her Majesty’s hospitality don’t deserve to live as much as everyone else?”
Dr. Wong shrugged. We both knew the answer. Give me six Paracetamol, six Ventolin, and a tiny bottle of Codeine.
Zam said he’d make sure I followed the instructions.
“Good luck,” Dr. Wong said. “I’ll drop in soon.”
Then me and Zam were on our own again.
Water chunders down a pipe.
Stay alert. Drink bleach.

Six fat sausages,sizzling in the pan. Tell Kylie ’bout my wacko prison nightmare. ’Bout Laverty’s flat, prison, Zam, her and Gemma and Steven. God it felt so real. Kylie laughed. “Poor Lukey. ... I don’t know any Stevens.” Then I’m walking Gem to school up Gilbert’s End. Light greens, lush greens. Sunshine on my face. Horses running across the fringes like in Red Dead Redemption. Tell Gem how I went to Saint Gabriel’s school, too, once upon a time. The year I stayed with my Uncle Ross and Aunt Dawn right here, in Black Swan Green. Mr. Pratley’s still the headmaster. Ain’t aged a day. He thanks me for accepting his invitation. I tell him how Saint Gabriel’s is the only school I went to where it weren’t Bully or Be Bullied. Next up, I’m in my old classroom. Here’s my cousins Robbie and Em. Plus Joey Drinkwater. Sakura Yew. “It’s been 30 years since the coronavirus changed our world,” Mr. Pratley says, “but Luke recalls it as if it were yesterday. Isn’t that right, Luke?’ All eyes on me. So the virus is now a history lesson. So I’m 55. Time flies on the outside. Then I see him. At the back. Arms folded. He’s Him, I’m Me. No-name terms, us two. Gunshot wound in his neck’s opening and closing like some underwater valve-mouth off David Attenborough. I know his face better than I know my own. Fixed. Knowing. Sad. Silent. That’s the face he had bleeding out on Laverty’s sofa. Half his throat was missing. It was his shooter. We was fumbling for it. Bang. Wish to fuck it hadn’t happened. But if wishes was horses, beggars would ride. I wake up. Sick as a dog. Sorry as hell. Three years before the parole board even look at my paperwork. Day 5 of quarantine. Storms closing in. Thunder. Why do I have to wake up? Why? Day after day after day. Can’t do this no more. Just bloody can’t.

Day 6.I think. Gales. Stabs of lightning. My body’s a body bag. Stuffed with pain, hot gravel and me. Three steps to the shitter and I’m done. It hurts. Breathing hurts. Not breathing hurts. Everything bloody hurts. It’s night, not day. Night 7. Night 8?Zam says I’m dehydrated. He makes me drink water. Zam must use the shitter when I’m sleeping. Tactful. Pogo Hoggins shat morning, noon and night. Mr. Rat got to the breakfast box before me. Ate his way inside and nicked the sausage. I ain’t hungry but still. Could die in here and nobody’d know till the pandemic’s over. Mr. Rat would know. Mr. Rat and his hungry friends. If I died here, what’ll Gem remember of me? Skinny skinhead skull in prison PJs, blubbing at her picture of Mummy, Daddy, Gemma and Blueberry Dash. Give it a few years, even that’ll fade. I’ll be a name. A face on a phone that gets deleted one day. A skeleton in the cupboard. The family offender. Drugs and manslaughter. Nice. Gem’s future pictures of her family’ll be her, her mother, Steven and baby brother. Not “half brother.” “Brother.” And yer know what?
“What?” Zam pours my Codeine. “Drink.”
I swallow it. “It’s best for Gem she forgets me.”
“How do you figure that out?”
“Who’s feeding her? Clothing her? Keeping her warm in winter? Buying her her My Little Pony Magic Castle? Model Citizen Steven. Project Manager Steven. Business Studies Steven.”
“Is that so, Self-Pity Studies Luke?”
“I’d belt yer one if I could lift my arm.”
“Consider me belted. But doesn’t Gemma get a say?”
“Next time she sees me, I’ll be over 30.”
“Ancient.” Zam’s older. Can’t tell his age.
“If, if I’m lucky, I’ll be working in an Amazon slave mine. Most likely, I’ll be begging outside Tesco’s until I end up back here. Why’d Gemma — or any daughter — want to say, ‘He’s my Dad’? How can I compete with Steven?”
“Don’t. Concentrate on being Luke.”
“Luke’s an addict homeless loser sad sack.”
“Luke’s a lot of things. Be the best of them.”
“Yer sound like an ‘X-Factor’ judge.”
“Is that a good thing or bad thing?”
“It’s an easy thing. Yer talk proper, Zam. Yer’ve got a bank account. Education. People. Safety nets. When yer get out, yer’ll have options. When I get out, I’ll have my 28-quid discharge grant, and. ... ” Shut my eyes. Here’s Laverty’s flat. Here’s the bloke who’ll always be dead. Dead. ’Cause of me.
“What we’ve done isn’t who we are, Luke.”
My brain’s a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling. “What are you, Zam? A fucking vicar?”
Never heard him laugh till now.

“Morning, Mr. Wilcox.’’ Chinese eyes. A mask.
Fever’s lifted. “Dr. Right.”
“Caymans here we come. Still here?”
Today’s outlook: brighter patches, dry. “Ain’t dead yet. Feel OK. Thanks to Nurse Zam.”
“Good. Who’s Sam?”
“Zam. With a zed.” I point to the bunk above.
“Are we talking ... a higher power? Or the prison governor?”
I’m baffled, he’s baffled. “No. Zam. My celly.”
“A cellmate? In here? During quarantine?”
“Bit late now for the shock ’n’ horror, Doc. Yer met him last time. Asian bloke.” I call up: “Zam! Reveal yerself.”
Zam keeps shtum. Dr. Wong looks stumped. “I wouldn’t have tolerated two inmates in one cell on the quarantine wing.”
“ ’Fraid yer bloody did tolerate it, Doc.”
“I would have noticed a third person in here. There’s not exactly a wealth of hiding places.”
Water chunders down a toilet pipe.
I call up to Zam, “Zam, will yer just tell him?”
My cellmate doesn’t reply. Asleep? A windup?
Dr. Wong looks worried. “Luke, have you had access to drugs of a more recreational nature than the ones I prescribed? I shan’t tell the guards. But as your doctor, I need to know.”
“This ain’t funny, Zam. ... ” So I get up and stand up and find Zam’s empty bed with no sheets or nothing.
*IF*WiShesWASHorSes
By
David Mitchell
A short story from The New York Times Magazine’s Decameron Project.
Listen to David Mitchell Read This Story
Illustration byAlexander Harrison
Spot illustrations and lettering bySophy Hollington
—
David Mitchellis the author of “Cloud Atlas,” “The Bone Clocks” and “Utopia Avenue.” He lives in Ireland.
Alexander Harrisonis a painter in New York whose work features a spectrum of muted earth tones to rich and vibrant strokes of color.
Sophy Hollingtonis a British artist and illustrator. She is known for her use of relief prints, created using the process of the linocut and inspired by meteoric folklore as well as alchemical symbolism.
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Credits
Additional design and development byShannon LinandJacky Myint.
The Decameron Project ·
“I’m not hungry.” The box has a pig on it, with a speech bubble saying, “Two succulent pork sausages!” “What, ’cause yer can’t eat pork?” “I eat very little. “Oy, Mate.” A weary-as-hell, “What?” “First off, there’s two of us banged up in here.” I see a Nike trainer, a shin and a trolley wheel. My throat hurt, but it was an open goal: “I’d rather have Dr. Right.” “If I had a tenner every time I heard that, I’d be in my mansion in the Cayman Islands.” He seemed all right. “Poor Lukey. The quack said, “Mr. “Oy! Took my pulse. “I’m s’posed to be in quarantine. “See Mr. Rat? “You eat it,” Zam says. I bang on the door. Then the telly conked out. “Anything for a quiet life.” I believe it. “Just came from Wandsworth,” I tell him. “Home away from home.” Bolts clunk and the door opens.
New Fiction: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling."

From the Magazine's Decameron Project

Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week. Everyone had left the city—except for the woman on the 14th floor. She was still there, alone, with her featherweight brain and the Hulk that had taken residence in her mind. He just kept pummeling.

She didn't like to talk about her brother much in those days. He had been her rock, her confidant, her protector. But now, he was gone, and she was left with the aftermath of the accident, the Hulk that had taken over her thoughts.

The dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town. They roamed the empty streets, howling at the moon, adding to the cacophony of chaos in her mind. She had always loved dogs, but now, they seemed to be a constant reminder of the world that she had lost.

No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like her. But she knew that wasn't true. There were always complications, especially when your brain felt like a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk.

At night, she'd stare at her husband's back in the dim light of the bedroom, and she'd see a ridge too high to climb. She wanted to believe him when he said that everything would be okay, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the Hulk was still there, pummeling away.

A hundred twenty days had passed since someone last touched her. She had lost track of time, lost in her own mind, with the Hulk as her only companion. She wanted to reach out, to connect, but she was too afraid. Afraid of the Hulk, afraid of rejection, afraid of the world outside.

The consular officers kept telling her to be patient, that she would have better luck next time. But she had lost faith in luck, in the world, in herself. She was a featherweight, stuck in a cage with the Hulk, and she didn't know how to make him go away.

But she was not letting herself be fooled. She knew that the Hulk was a part of her, a part of her mind that she couldn't ignore. She had to face him, to confront him, to tame him. And maybe, just maybe, she could become more than a featherweight, more than a victim. She could become a survivor.

In the meantime, she would take it one day at a time, one punch at a time, until she was strong enough to make the Hulk go away. And maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to make the world a better place, a place where featherweights could become heroes, and Hulks could be tamed.
New Fiction: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling."

From the Magazine's Decameron Project

Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week. Everyone had left the city – except for the woman on the 14th floor. She was still there, and so was he – a man with a brain as delicate as a featherweight, trapped in a body that seemed to be channeling the Hulk. He didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days, but the memories of him were never far from his mind.

The world had come to a screeching halt, and so had his good feelings about it being a worthy endeavor. At the exact moment of the death of time, if he remembers correctly, he was lying in the hammock staring out over nothing but empty streets. The dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town.

He didn't know how long he had been lying there, but it felt like an eternity. The days blurred into one another, and he found himself losing track of time. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and memories, and he couldn't escape the feeling that he was being pummeled from all sides.

No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like him. But he knew that wasn't true. There were always complications – with his health, his family, his past. And yet, he didn't want to burden anyone with his problems. He just wanted to be left alone.

At night, he'd stare at his wife's back in the dim light of the bedroom, and he'd see a ridge too high to climb. He wanted to believe her when she said that everything would be okay, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was just saying that to make him feel better.

He didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days, but he couldn't help but think of him. They had been close once, but something had happened – something that he couldn't bring himself to talk about. And now, his brother was gone, and he was left alone with his thoughts.

Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside. He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there. All he knew was that he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He just wanted to close his eyes and never wake up.

But even in his weakened state, he couldn't let himself be fooled. He knew that there was more to life than this – more than the constant pummeling of his thoughts and memories. He just had to find a way to break free.

And so, he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how he could escape the cage that held him captive. The Hulk was still pummeling him, but he refused to give up. He would find a way out – he had to.

In the meantime, he would take things one day at a time. He would focus on the present moment and try not to get lost in his thoughts. He would be patient and wait for his chance to escape.

And when that chance came, he would be ready. He would grab it with both hands and never look back. He would leave the cage behind and start a new life – a life free from the constant pummeling of his thoughts and memories.

But for now, he would lie there and wait. He would take care of himself and try to stay positive. He would respect his own limitations and tell the truth about how he was feeling. And he would do his best to avoid any negative or prejudiced content.

Because he knew that he deserved to be treated with care and respect – just like everyone else. And he would do whatever it took to make sure that he got it.
New Fiction: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling."

From the Magazine's Decameron Project

Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week. Everyone had left the city—except for the woman on the 14th floor. She was still there, and so was he, a man with a brain as delicate as a featherweight, trapped in a cage with the Hulk, who just kept pummeling.

He didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days. The memories were too complicated, too heavy to carry around. His brother had been his protector, his confidant, his hero. But then something had changed, and they had grown apart, leaving him alone in the world with his fragile mind.

Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside the facility. They had explained that they were there to help him, to heal him, to make him whole again. But so far, all they had done was poke and prod and ask endless questions.

No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like him. She was the nurse assigned to his case, a no-nonsense woman with a sharp wit and a sharp tongue. She had seen it all before, or so she said. But he could tell that she was worried, that she didn't quite know what to make of him.

At night, he would stare at his wife's back in the dim light of the bedroom, and he'd see a ridge too high to climb. He wanted to believe her when she said that everything would be okay, that they would get through this together. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was trapped, that he was doomed to live out his days in this fragile state, with the Hulk pummeling him from within.

Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town. They roamed the streets freely, sniffing and barking and chasing their tails. He envied them, their simple lives, their lack of self-awareness. If only he could be like them, free from the constraints of his own mind.

A hundred twenty days had passed since someone last touched him. He had lost track of the days, the weeks, the months. Time had become a blur, a meaningless concept in a world that had stopped making sense.

The consular officers kept telling him to be patient, that he would have better luck next time. But he knew that there would be no next time, that he was stuck in this limbo, this purgatory, with the Hulk pummeling him from within.

Between him and the woman on the 14th floor lay a gentle hatred, a simmering resentment that he couldn't quite explain. She was his lifeline, his connection to the outside world, and yet he couldn't bring himself to trust her, to open up to her fully.

And so he remained trapped, a featherweight in a cage with the Hulk, pummeled and prodded and questioned, with no end in sight.
New Fiction: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling."

From the Magazine's Decameron Project

In these peculiar times, the Decameron Project brings us a collection of short stories that encapsulate the emotions, thoughts, and experiences of people during the pandemic. One such story is "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling." by the esteemed author (Name of the author). In this article, we will delve into the context provided and analyze the themes and messages presented in the story.

Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week. The story begins with a sense of disorientation and chaos, where Time has become a mere construct of the past. The protagonist grapples with the concept of Time and its significance in their life. The accident that stopped Time could be a metaphor for the pandemic, which has brought the world to a standstill, making people question their priorities and the importance of time.

Everyone had left the city—except for the woman on the 14th floor. The protagonist's isolation is a common theme during the pandemic, where people are forced to stay indoors, away from their loved ones. The woman on the 14th floor could be a symbol of hope and companionship in these trying times. The protagonist's connection with her could be a source of comfort, making them feel less alone in their struggles.

But I’m not letting myself be fooled. The protagonist's skepticism and cynicism are evident throughout the story. The pandemic has brought out a range of emotions in people, from fear and anxiety to anger and frustration. The protagonist's reluctance to trust could be a reflection of the general mistrust and suspicion that has arisen during these times.

He didn’t like to talk about his brother much in those days. The protagonist's strained relationship with his brother could be a metaphor for the relationships that have been affected during the pandemic. The lack of communication and understanding between the two could be a result of the physical and emotional distance that has been created due to the pandemic.

Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type. The protagonist's fascination with the woman on the 14th floor could be a reflection of the human desire for connection and intimacy, even during a pandemic. The protagonist's attraction to someone who is "beyond his league" could be a source of motivation, making them strive to be better and do better.

Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside. The image of people in spacesuits is a common motif during the pandemic, symbolizing the need for protection and separation. The protagonist's vulnerability and dependence on others could be a reflection of the collective experience of the pandemic, where people have had to rely on each other for support and assistance.

Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town. The presence of dogs in the story could be a symbol of loyalty and companionship, representing the unwavering support and love that animals provide. The dogs' freedom and joy could be a source of inspiration for the protagonist, making them yearn for a similar sense of liberation and happiness.

No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them. The protagonist's encounter with Chrissy could be a reflection of the transactional nature of relationships, where people are reduced to commodities and services. The lack of complications in Chrissy's world could be a source of envy for the protagonist, making them yearn for a simpler and more straightforward existence.

At night, I’d stare at my wife’s back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I’d see a ridge too high to climb. The protagonist's relationship with their wife could be a source of tension and conflict, representing the challenges and obstacles that people face in their relationships. The protagonist's sense of inadequacy and failure could be a reflection of the self-doubt and insecurity that people experience during the pandemic.

In conclusion, "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling." is a poignant and thought-provoking story that encapsulates the emotions and experiences of people during the pandemic. The themes of isolation, mistrust, vulnerability, and companionship are explored in a nuanced and profound manner, making
New Fiction: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling."

From the Magazine's Decameron Project

Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week. Everyone had left the city—except for the woman on the 14th floor. She was still there, but things had changed. The world came to a screeching halt, and so did your good feelings about it being a worthy endeavor.

He didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days. Although everyone is behind on everything, they feel sure that they are a little more behind than everyone else. Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside, but he wasn't letting himself be fooled. Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town. No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them.

At the exact moment of the death of time, if he remembered correctly, he was lying in the hammock staring out over nothing but empty streets. Between them lay a gentle hatred. He just keeps pummeling.

Context:
The new fiction piece, "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling," is part of the Decameron Project, a collection of new fiction stories from various authors. The protagonist reflects on the recent events that led to the current state of the world. Despite the challenges, he remains skeptical of the situation and the people around him. The mention of his brother and Chrissy implies a history that has shaped his perspective on the current state of affairs.

The protagonist grapples with his emotions as he stares at the empty streets, and the story ends with the image of an ongoing conflict. The use of metaphors, such as "a featherweight in a cage with the Hulk," showcases the inner turmoil the protagonist experiences.

In summary, the story captures the protagonist's contemplation, skepticism, and internal struggle as he navigates the aftermath of a world-altering event.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project has released a new piece of fiction that offers a poignant and visceral exploration of mental struggle. The story, which begins with the striking line "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling," immediately draws readers into a world of internal conflict and psychological turmoil.

This latest addition to the Decameron Project continues the series' tradition of presenting thought-provoking, contemporary fiction that reflects on the human condition during times of crisis. The project, inspired by Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," features stories from various acclaimed authors, each offering a unique perspective on life during extraordinary circumstances.

The metaphor of a featherweight brain trapped with the Hulk paints a vivid picture of the narrator's mental state, suggesting a battle between vulnerability and overwhelming force. This internal struggle resonates with many readers who may be grappling with their own challenges, particularly in the context of recent global events.

Like other entries in the Decameron Project, this story likely explores themes of isolation, resilience, and the human capacity to endure in the face of adversity. The project has previously featured stories about empty cities, the passage of time, and the surreal nature of life during a pandemic.

While the full text of the story is not provided, the opening line promises a raw and honest portrayal of mental health struggles. It invites readers to consider the often invisible battles fought within one's own mind and the strength required to face such formidable inner opponents.

As part of the larger Decameron Project, this new fiction contributes to a mosaic of voices and experiences, offering comfort, insight, and a sense of shared humanity during uncertain times. The New York Times Magazine continues to provide a platform for these important narratives, encouraging reflection and fostering connection through the power of storytelling.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project continues to captivate readers with its latest piece of short fiction, offering a raw and introspective glimpse into the human psyche. The story opens with a striking metaphor: "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling."

This powerful imagery sets the tone for a narrative that explores the internal struggles of its protagonist, trapped in a mental battle against an overwhelming force. The author skillfully weaves together themes of isolation, self-doubt, and resilience in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.

As with other entries in the Decameron Project, this piece reflects the current global climate of uncertainty and confinement. The story likely touches on the psychological impact of prolonged isolation, mirroring the experiences of many during the ongoing pandemic.

The Decameron Project, inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," has been featuring a collection of new short fiction from renowned authors. Each story offers a unique perspective on life during extraordinary times, exploring themes of solitude, human connection, and the resilience of the human spirit.

This particular entry stands out for its vivid metaphorical language and its exploration of internal conflict. As readers delve into the protagonist's struggle, they may find echoes of their own experiences and challenges in these unprecedented times.

The New York Times Magazine continues to provide a platform for thought-provoking and emotionally resonant fiction through the Decameron Project, offering readers a moment of reflection and connection in an increasingly isolated world.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project, inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," presents a collection of new fiction pieces that capture the essence of life during extraordinary times. One particularly striking entry begins with the evocative line: "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling."

This powerful metaphor sets the stage for a story that likely explores themes of internal struggle, cognitive dissonance, and the overwhelming nature of our current reality. The author paints a vivid picture of a mind at war with itself, where rational thought (the "featherweight") is constantly battered by raw emotion and instinct (the "Hulk").

The Decameron Project features various works that delve into the complexities of human experience during times of crisis. Some stories focus on isolation, such as "Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor," while others examine the surreal nature of our new reality, like "Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside."

These pieces of fiction serve as a mirror to our collective experiences, reflecting the anxiety, loneliness, and uncertainty that have become commonplace. They also highlight the resilience of the human spirit and our ability to find meaning and connection even in the most challenging circumstances.

The project showcases a diverse array of voices and perspectives, with each author bringing their unique style and insight to the collection. From exploring the intricacies of relationships during lockdown to contemplating the nature of memory and time, these stories offer readers a chance to reflect on their own experiences and find solace in shared human experiences.

As we navigate through these unprecedented times, the Decameron Project reminds us of the power of storytelling to help us process, understand, and ultimately transcend the challenges we face. It serves as a testament to the enduring nature of literature and its ability to provide comfort, insight, and a sense of community, even when we are physically apart.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project has released a new piece of fiction that delves into the chaotic inner workings of a troubled mind. The story, which begins with the evocative line "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling," offers readers a glimpse into a world where the protagonist's thoughts are in constant turmoil.

This latest addition to the Decameron Project continues the series' exploration of isolation, introspection, and the human condition during extraordinary times. Like its predecessors, this story uses vivid imagery and metaphor to convey complex emotional states and psychological struggles.

The Decameron Project, inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," features a collection of new fiction from acclaimed authors, each grappling with themes of solitude, connection, and resilience in the face of global upheaval. Previous entries in the series have touched on a wide range of experiences and perspectives, from the surreal to the mundane.

Some notable examples from the project include:

- A story about an accident that "stopped Time," hinting at a world where normal rules no longer apply.
- A tale of a solitary woman left behind on the 14th floor of an otherwise abandoned city.
- An exploration of memory and identity, asking readers to consider their attachment to their own recollections.
- A narrative that begins at "the exact moment of the death of time," blurring the lines between reality and perception.

These stories, along with the latest addition, form a tapestry of human experiences during times of crisis and isolation. They offer readers a chance to reflect on their own inner struggles and the shared challenges of navigating an uncertain world.

The Decameron Project continues to provide a platform for writers to engage with the complexities of contemporary life through the lens of fiction, inviting readers to find solace, understanding, and perhaps even hope in these carefully crafted narratives.
The New York Times Magazine's Decameron Project, inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's 14th-century work "The Decameron," continues to captivate readers with its collection of short fiction pieces that explore the human condition during times of crisis. The latest addition to this thought-provoking series is a striking piece that begins with the haunting line: "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling."

This powerful metaphor sets the stage for a story that delves into the internal struggles of its protagonist, grappling with an overwhelming force within their own mind. The contrast between the delicate "featherweight" brain and the brutish Hulk creates a vivid image of an uneven mental battle, perhaps symbolizing the challenges many face during times of isolation and uncertainty.

The Decameron Project has consistently delivered poignant and diverse narratives, each offering a unique perspective on life during extraordinary circumstances. Previous entries have explored themes such as isolation ("Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor"), the passage of time ("Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week"), and the surreal nature of current events ("Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside").

These stories, while fictional, resonate deeply with readers who have experienced the disorienting effects of global crises. They touch on universal feelings of loneliness, fear, and resilience, offering a literary reflection of our collective experiences.

The Decameron Project continues to attract talented authors who contribute their distinct voices to this tapestry of contemporary fiction. By presenting these bite-sized narratives, the New York Times Magazine provides a platform for exploring the complexities of human nature and our ability to find meaning and connection, even in the most challenging of times.

As readers engage with these stories, they are invited to reflect on their own experiences and find solace in the shared human experience portrayed through the power of fiction. The latest entry promises to be another compelling addition to this already rich collection, further cementing the Decameron Project's place as a significant literary endeavor of our time.
## My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk: A Decameron Project Story

**From the depths of a mind grappling with unseen forces, a new story emerges from the Decameron Project, a collection of short fiction exploring the complexities of the human experience.**

The unnamed narrator of this piece finds themselves trapped in a metaphorical cage, their delicate mind ("a featherweight") constantly bombarded by a relentless, overwhelming force ("the Hulk"). This internal struggle is not a physical one, but a psychological battle against an unseen enemy, perhaps trauma, grief, or a debilitating mental illness. 

The story's opening line, "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," hints at a world on the brink of chaos, mirroring the narrator's own internal turmoil. The "accident" that stopped time could be a literal event or a metaphorical representation of a life-altering experience that shattered the narrator's sense of normalcy.

The relentless "pummeling" suggests a constant barrage of negative thoughts, anxieties, or memories. The narrator's voice is one of weariness and resignation, accepting their fate as a captive of their own mind. 

The story's brevity leaves much open to interpretation. What is the "accident" that stopped time? What is the source of the narrator's internal struggle? The Decameron Project, known for its exploration of diverse human experiences, invites readers to delve into the story's ambiguity and draw their own conclusions.

This poignant piece, like the other stories in the Decameron Project, offers a glimpse into the complexities of the human psyche, reminding us that even in a world seemingly frozen in time, the internal battles we face can be the most profound. 


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## My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk: A Decameron Project Story

The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken words, a tension so thick it felt like a physical presence.  He sat hunched over a chipped mug of lukewarm coffee, the steam doing little to dispel the chill that had settled deep in his bones.  "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk," he muttered, the words barely audible above the incessant drumming of rain against the windowpane. "He just keeps pummeling."

This wasn't a new feeling.  The "Hulk," as he'd come to call it, was a manifestation of his anxieties, his fears, the relentless barrage of thoughts that threatened to consume him.  It had always been there, a low hum in the background of his life, but lately, it had grown louder, more insistent.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment the Hulk had started to gain strength.  Maybe it was the accident, the one that had stopped time, leaving the world in a state of frozen limbo.  Or perhaps it was the isolation, the gnawing loneliness that had become his constant companion.

Whatever the cause, the Hulk was winning.  His days were a blur of anxious thoughts, a constant battle against the overwhelming tide of his own mind.  He tried to distract himself, to find solace in books or music, but the Hulk always found a way to break through, its heavy fists pounding against the fragile walls of his sanity.

He longed for escape, for a moment of peace, a respite from the relentless assault.  But he knew that true peace was an illusion, a fleeting dream.  The Hulk was a part of him, an inescapable shadow that would always follow.

He took a sip of his cold coffee, the bitter taste doing little to soothe his troubled mind.  He knew he couldn't keep fighting this battle alone.  He needed help, someone to understand the torment he was enduring.

But who could possibly understand the weight of a featherweight trapped in a cage with the Hulk?


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## My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk: A Decameron Project Story

The air hung heavy with a sense of unease, a tension that had settled over the city like a shroud.  It wasn't the usual humdrum of daily life, the kind that faded into the background noise of existence. This was different. This was a quiet, suffocating dread that clung to every corner, every interaction. 

"Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," the narrator begins, his voice a weary whisper, hinting at the events that led to this current state of suspended reality.  He paints a picture of a world teetering on the brink, a world where the familiar rhythms of life had been disrupted, replaced by an unsettling stillness.

The accident, the catalyst for this strange new reality, remains shrouded in mystery.  We are left to piece together the fragments of information scattered throughout the story, glimpses of a world thrown into chaos.  The narrator, trapped in this liminal space, grapples with the psychological toll of the event.

"My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk," he confesses, his words a metaphor for the internal struggle he faces.  The Hulk, a symbol of raw, untamed power, represents the overwhelming forces that have disrupted his world.  The narrator, a fragile featherweight, feels powerless against the onslaught of chaos and uncertainty.

He describes a constant barrage of thoughts, a cacophony of anxieties and fears.  He is haunted by the past, by the events that led to this moment, and terrified of the unknown future.  The weight of the world, both literal and metaphorical, presses down on him, threatening to crush him.

But amidst the despair, there are glimmers of hope.  The narrator clings to the memories of a world that once was, to the people he loved and the life he once knew.  He finds solace in small moments of beauty, in the resilience of the human spirit.

The story, like the Decameron Project itself, offers a glimpse into the human condition in the face of adversity.  It explores themes of loss, grief, and the search for meaning in a world that has been irrevocably changed.  The narrator's journey is a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit, its ability to find hope and meaning even in the darkest of times. 


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## My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk: A Decameron Project Story

The air crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with the impending storm.  He sat hunched over his desk, the flickering lamplight casting long, skeletal shadows across the room. The words on the page swam before his eyes, refusing to coalesce into anything meaningful. 

"My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk," he muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "He just keeps pummeling."

The story he was trying to write, the one that had been clawing at him for weeks, felt impossibly distant. It was a story about a world where time had stopped, a world where the mundane had become surreal, a world where even the simplest act felt monumental. 

He had tried to capture the feeling, the sense of disorientation, the crushing weight of stillness. But the words felt hollow, inadequate. They couldn't convey the raw, visceral fear that gnawed at him, the constant terror that the Hulk inside his head would shatter his fragile sanity.

He thought about the world outside, the abandoned streets, the deserted buildings, the eerie silence that hung heavy in the air. He thought about the people, the ones who had left, the ones who had stayed, the ones who had vanished without a trace. He thought about the woman on the 14th floor, the one who had chosen to remain, the one who seemed to exist in a world apart.

He wanted to write about her, about her resilience, her defiance, her unwavering spirit. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was an outsider, a voyeur peering into a world he didn't understand.

He closed his eyes, trying to find the story within the storm raging in his mind. But the Hulk kept pummeling, relentless and unforgiving.

"My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk," he whispered, the words echoing in the empty room. "He just keeps pummeling."


The storm outside intensified, the wind howling like a beast. He sat there, lost in the darkness, the words still eluding him. 
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## My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk: New Fiction Explores the Dark Side of the Mind

The Decameron Project, a renowned literary platform, continues to captivate readers with its diverse collection of short stories. A recent piece titled "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk" delves into the unsettling internal struggles of an unnamed protagonist.  

The story opens with a stark image: a mind ravaged by internal turmoil, likened to a featherweight constantly battered by a raging Hulk. This analogy immediately establishes a sense of vulnerability and powerlessness within the narrator.  

While the context provided doesn't reveal specific details about the events leading to this mental state, the phrase "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week" hints at a possible catalyst for the protagonist's anguish. This "accident" and its impact on time itself suggests a fantastical element, adding another layer of complexity to the protagonist's already precarious mental landscape.

The story's fragmented nature, punctuated by short, impactful sentences, mirrors the chaotic state of the protagonist's mind. The lack of concrete details allows readers to project their own interpretations and experiences onto the narrative, making it a deeply personal and relatable exploration of internal conflict.

The Decameron Project's commitment to showcasing diverse voices and perspectives shines through in this piece. "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk"  is a powerful testament to the human capacity for both resilience and vulnerability, reminding us that even in the darkest moments, the desire to understand and navigate our inner world remains a constant. 


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**The Decameron Project: A Collection of Haunting Short Stories**

In a recent series of publications, The Decameron Project has brought forth a collection of short stories that delve into the human condition, exploring themes of isolation, love, and the complexities of human relationships. These thought-provoking tales, written by a diverse range of authors, offer a glimpse into the darker corners of the human experience.

One of the most striking aspects of The Decameron Project is its use of language. The authors employ a range of styles and techniques, from the lyrical to the stark, to convey the emotional depth of their characters. In "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," the author masterfully weaves together a narrative that is both fragmented and cohesive, mirroring the disjointed nature of time itself.

Another common thread throughout the collection is the theme of isolation. In "Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor," the author skillfully explores the psychological effects of solitude, creating a sense of claustrophobia and desperation that is both unsettling and thought-provoking.

The Decameron Project also delves into the complexities of human relationships, often revealing the darker aspects of love and attachment. In "At night, I'd stare at my wife's back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I'd see a ridge too high to climb," the author poignantly captures the fragility of relationships, highlighting the ways in which even the smallest details can become a source of tension and conflict.

Throughout the collection, the authors also explore the idea of memory and its relationship to identity. In "She used to tell me, 'If he is going to imagine something, let him imagine his home country,'" the author raises important questions about the nature of memory and how it shapes our understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

One of the most striking aspects of The Decameron Project is its diversity of voices and perspectives. The authors bring a range of experiences and backgrounds to the table, creating a rich and nuanced tapestry of stories that reflect the complexity of the human experience.

In conclusion, The Decameron Project is a remarkable collection of short stories that offer a glimpse into the darker corners of the human experience. With its diverse range of voices and perspectives, this collection is a must-read for anyone interested in exploring the complexities of human relationships, memory, and identity.

**Authors featured in The Decameron Project include:**

* John Wray
* Esi Edugyan
* Rivka Galchen
* Kamila Shamsie

**The Decameron Project** is available now at your local bookstore or online.
## "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling." From the magazine's Decameron Project.

The latest installment of the *[Magazine Name]*'s Decameron Project features a captivating collection of short stories, each offering a unique glimpse into the human condition. One particularly striking piece, titled "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling," immediately grabs the reader's attention with its raw and visceral imagery. 

The story, penned by [Author Name], plunges us into the mind of a protagonist grappling with an internal struggle of epic proportions. The metaphor of a delicate brain trapped with a raging Hulk perfectly encapsulates the overwhelming power of emotions and the fragility of reason. 

While the exact nature of the protagonist's internal conflict remains shrouded in mystery, the opening line alone evokes a sense of desperation and helplessness. The reader is left to wonder what events have led to this state of being, and what the ultimate outcome will be. 

This evocative opening line is just a taste of the rich tapestry of stories woven together in the Decameron Project. Each piece offers a distinct perspective on life, love, loss, and the complexities of the human experience. 

If you're looking for a literary journey that will challenge your perceptions and leave you pondering long after the final page, be sure to check out the *[Magazine Name]*'s Decameron Project. 

## "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling." From the magazine's Decameron Project.

The latest installment of the *Decameron Project*, a series of short stories published in the magazine, offers a glimpse into the mind of a protagonist grappling with an internal struggle.  The line, "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling," paints a vivid picture of a mind overwhelmed by powerful emotions, anxieties, or perhaps even a traumatic experience. 

This evocative phrase, like many others in the *Decameron Project*, serves as a powerful opening to a story that promises to explore the complexities of human experience. The project, inspired by Boccaccio's *Decameron*, features a collection of diverse voices and perspectives, each offering a unique and compelling narrative. 

The *Decameron Project* continues to engage readers with its thought-provoking and emotionally resonant stories, each one a testament to the power of fiction to illuminate the human condition. 

## New Fiction: “My brain’s a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling.” From the magazine’s Decameron Project. 

The latest installment of the *Decameron Project*, a series of short stories published in the magazine, presents a chillingly relatable inner conflict. The unnamed narrator, trapped in a state of overwhelming anxiety, describes their mind as a fragile bird, constantly battered by a relentless force: “My brain’s a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling.”

This evocative imagery captures the feeling of being overwhelmed by anxieties, fears, and worries that feel impossible to control. The narrator's helplessness is palpable, their vulnerability starkly contrasted with the brute strength of the metaphorical Hulk. 

The *Decameron Project* is known for its exploration of the human condition, often through the lens of contemporary anxieties. This latest story, with its potent metaphor and raw emotion, continues this tradition, offering a glimpse into the internal struggles we all face, albeit in a uniquely powerful and imaginative way. 

This story, like others in the *Decameron Project*, invites readers to contemplate the complexities of the human psyche and the ever-present battle between fragility and resilience. It serves as a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming forces, a spark of hope can still flicker within us, waiting for the right moment to ignite. 

## My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling.

**From the magazine’s Decameron Project, a new fiction piece by [Author's Name]**

The line, "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling," is a potent and evocative image that immediately grabs the reader's attention. It hints at a struggle, a conflict within the narrator's mind, and sets the stage for a story that promises to be both intriguing and unsettling. 

The "Decameron Project" is a recurring feature in the magazine, showcasing a collection of short stories from diverse authors.  The project, reminiscent of Boccaccio's "Decameron," offers a glimpse into various perspectives and narratives, exploring themes of personal struggles, societal anxieties, and the human condition.  

This particular piece, with its striking opening line, promises a story that delves into the complexities of the human psyche.  It suggests a narrator grappling with overwhelming emotions, perhaps a traumatic experience or an internal conflict that feels like an unending battle. The image of a fragile mind being relentlessly battered by an unstoppable force is both powerful and unsettling, leaving us eager to learn more about the source of this internal turmoil and the narrator's journey through it. 

The magazine, with its Decameron Project, continues to be a platform for exploring the nuances of human experience through the art of storytelling. This particular piece, with its intriguing opening, promises a compelling journey into the depths of the human mind, inviting readers to experience a story that is both personal and universal. 

## "My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling." From the magazine's Decameron Project.

The latest installment of the *Decameron Project* plunges readers into a world of fractured realities and intense internal struggles. This evocative opening line, from an unnamed narrator, hints at a story grappling with powerful emotions and conflicting forces within a single mind.

The Decameron Project, a series of short stories published in the magazine, has been lauded for its diverse voices and thought-provoking narratives. Each piece explores unique themes, from the complexities of human relationships to the anxieties of a world grappling with change. 

While the full context of the story remains shrouded in mystery, the opening line itself inspires a range of interpretations. Is the "Hulk" a metaphor for uncontrollable rage, a relentless fear, or perhaps an overwhelming sense of responsibility? How does the narrator navigate the power imbalance within their own mind?

The Decameron Project consistently delivers compelling and thought-provoking fiction, and this latest offering promises to be no exception.  Readers eager to delve into the depths of this captivating narrative can anticipate a journey through the complexities of the human psyche.  

Title: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk: Tales from the Decameron Project"

In a world where time has stopped, the Decameron Project has emerged as a beacon of hope for writers and readers alike. The project, which invites authors to submit short stories inspired by the current pandemic, has produced a collection of tales that are both haunting and thought-provoking.

One such story is "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk," which explores the inner turmoil of a character struggling to come to terms with the new reality. The story begins with the protagonist reflecting on the events of the past week, which have left him feeling like he's trapped in a cage with a raging beast. "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," he muses.

As the story unfolds, we learn that the protagonist is not alone in his struggles. In "Everyone had left the city — except for the woman on the 14th floor," we meet a woman who has chosen to stay behind in a deserted city, while in "Two people in what looked like spacesuits had wheeled him inside," we encounter a man who has been quarantined in a hospital room.

Despite the bleakness of their situations, the characters in these stories find moments of hope and connection. In "Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, had the run of the town," we see how the absence of humans has allowed animals to reclaim the streets, while in "Up close, he saw that she was way beyond his league: in other words, exactly his type," a man discovers a newfound appreciation for the woman he's always admired from afar.

But not all the stories have happy endings. In "No complications, that was how Chrissy thought of clients like them," we see the darker side of human nature, as a woman struggles to deal with a difficult client. And in "At night, I’d stare at my wife’s back in the dim light of the bedroom, and I’d see a ridge too high to climb," a man confronts the reality of his failing marriage.

Despite the diversity of the stories, they all share a common thread: the struggle to find meaning and connection in a world that has been turned upside down. As one character puts it, "The world came to a screeching halt, and so did your good feelings about it being a worthy endeavor." But even in the darkest moments, the characters in these stories find a way to keep going, to find hope in the midst of despair.

In the end, the Decameron Project serves as a reminder that even in the darkest of times, the human spirit can still find a way to shine through. As one character observes, "Between them lay a gentle hatred," but even in the midst of conflict, there is still a chance for understanding and connection. And that, perhaps, is the greatest lesson of all.
Title: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk: Tales from the Decameron Project"

In a world where time has stopped, the Decameron Project has provided a platform for writers to share their stories of isolation, fear, and hope. Here are some of the most captivating tales from the project:

"My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk"
In this gripping story, the protagonist struggles to come to terms with the chaos that has engulfed the world. The metaphor of a featherweight boxer stuck in a cage with the Hulk perfectly captures the feeling of helplessness and vulnerability in the face of an overwhelming force.

"Even Before the Accident that Stopped Time"
Before the world stopped, the protagonist had already had a difficult week. This story explores the idea that even in the midst of a global crisis, our personal struggles continue to exist and can sometimes feel just as overwhelming.

"Everyone Had Left the City - Except for the Woman on the 14th Floor"
In this eerie tale, the protagonist discovers that he is not alone in the deserted city. The woman on the 14th floor has also stayed behind, and the two of them must navigate their new reality together.

"Not Letting Myself Be Fooled"
The protagonist of this story is determined not to fall for false hope or empty promises. But as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months, it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain this resolve.

"Two People in What Looked Like Spacesuits Had Wheeled Him Inside"
In this surreal story, the protagonist wakes up in a strange place, surrounded by people in spacesuits. As he tries to piece together what has happened to him, he realizes that the world he knew is gone forever.

"Dogs, Big or Small, Mongrel or Pedigree, Had the Run of the Town"
In a world without humans, the dogs have taken over. This story explores the idea of what would happen if animals were left to their own devices, and the unexpected consequences that might result.

"No Complications, That Was How Chrissy Thought of Clients Like Them"
In this poignant story, a lawyer reflects on her relationship with her clients, who are struggling to navigate the legal system in a world that has come to a standstill.

"Babies Get Fevers"
In a world where medical care is scarce, a mother must find a way to care for her sick child. This story explores the lengths that parents will go to in order to protect their children, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

"At Night, I'd Stare at My Wife's Back in the Dim Light of the Bedroom"
In this haunting tale, a husband struggles to connect with his wife in a world that has been turned upside down. As they try to find a way to move forward together, they must confront the harsh realities of their new reality.

"One of the Things My Dad Sent Me Was 32 Rolls of Toilet Paper"
In this humorous story, a man reflects on the unexpected gifts that he has received from his father during the pandemic. As he struggles to find meaning in a world that has been turned upside down, he realizes that sometimes the smallest things can bring the greatest comfort.
Title: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk"
In the midst of a chaotic week, the world came to a screeching halt. Time itself seemed to stop, and with it, the good feelings that once accompanied daily life. For the protagonist of this story, the feeling was all too familiar. Even before the accident that froze time, his brain was a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk, constantly being pummeled by anxiety and fear.
As he lay in a hospital bed, two people in what looked like spacesuits wheeled him inside. The world outside had changed, but inside the hospital, everything seemed the same. The protagonist was alone, except for the woman on the 14th floor. Everyone else had left the city, fleeing the unknown.
Dogs, big or small, mongrel or pedigree, roamed the empty streets. The protagonist couldn't help but feel a sense of envy. They were free, while he was trapped in his own mind. He didn't like to talk about his brother much in those days, but he couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if he was still around.
At night, he'd stare at his wife's back in the dim light of the bedroom, and he'd see a ridge too high to climb. The world had become a complicated place, and he was struggling to keep up. Babies got fevers, and clients came with complications. Chrissy, his coworker, thought of them as simple cases, but the protagonist knew better.
One of the things his dad sent him was 32 rolls of toilet paper. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to him. In a world where nothing seemed certain, the familiar comfort of toilet paper was a welcome relief.
A hundred twenty days had passed since someone last touched him. The consular officers kept telling him to be patient, that he would have better luck next time. But he couldn't help but feel like he was running out of time.
At the exact moment of the death of time, if he remembered correctly, he was lying in the hammock staring out over nothing but empty streets. It was a surreal moment, one that he would never forget. The world had changed, and he was stuck in the middle of it.
The woman on the 14th floor was the only constant in his life. She used to tell him, "If he is going to imagine something, let him imagine his home country." It was a small comfort, but it gave him hope.
The protagonist was addicted to being awkward, his mother had told him that afternoon. But in the midst of chaos, he realized that being awkward was better than being alone. The world may have come to a screeching halt, but he was determined to keep moving forward.
In the end, the protagonist learned that nothing was ever his fault. The world had thrown him curveballs, but he had managed to dodge them all. And even though his brain was still a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk, he knew that he could handle whatever came his way.
Title: "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk"

In the latest piece from the magazine's Decameron Project, the reader is thrown into a world where time has stopped, and the protagonist is left to grapple with their thoughts. The title, "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk," perfectly encapsulates the feeling of being trapped with one's own mind.

The story begins with the protagonist reflecting on the events of the past week, which had been far from ordinary even before the accident that halted time. The feeling of being stuck in a never-ending cycle is palpable as the protagonist describes the constant pummeling of their thoughts by the metaphorical 'Hulk' that is their inner turmoil.

As the story progresses, the reader is introduced to a cast of characters who have all been left in the city. Among them is a woman on the 14th floor, whose presence adds an element of mystery to the already surreal setting. The protagonist is determined not to be fooled by appearances, hinting at a deeper level of mistrust that pervades their psyche.

The story takes unexpected turns as the protagonist encounters people in spacesuits and encounters a world overrun by dogs. The narrative is interspersed with snippets of dialogue and inner monologues that add depth to the protagonist's character.

The story's climax is a poignant moment of realization for the protagonist. They come to terms with the fact that they are attached to their memories, and that letting go of the past is the only way to move forward. The story ends with a sense of catharsis, as the protagonist finds a way to break free from the cage of their own mind.

Overall, "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk" is a thought-provoking piece that explores the complexities of the human mind. The Decameron Project continues to deliver compelling fiction that challenges readers to confront their own inner demons.
Title: "Featherweight in a Cage: A Collection of Writings from The Decameron Project"

In an extraordinary display of literary prowess, The Decameron Project, sponsored by a leading magazine, gathers prominent contemporary authors to pen stories reflecting the tumultuous mood of the modern world. Below are some of the featured narratives that delve into the complexities of the human psyche amid chaos.

In "My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling," author Esi Edugyan takes us through the harrowing journey of a protagonist grappling with the weight of his own thoughts, personified by the Hulk. "Even before the accident that stopped Time, it had been quite a week," sets the scene for a story that explores the unrelenting nature of inner turmoil that many feel all too often.

"Everyone had left the City — Except for the Woman on the 14th Floor," a vivid tale crafted by Kamila Shamsie, tells of an individual determined to stay put despite the evacuation of his surroundings. The story becomes a metaphor for the stubborn resilience and isolation humans endure during challenging times.

"Nothing's Ever Your Fault" unravels the story of a couple battling with their conflicting emotions and misplaced responsibility. Rivka Galchen masterfully navigates the complexity of relationships, presenting a story that speaks to the many who feel trapped in an endless cycle of blame and regret.

Joh Wray dives into the intricacies of human memory in "First, I Have to Ask You: How Attached Are You to Your Memories?" By posing an intriguing question, Wray sets off on an introspective journey that highlights our dependency on memories and the painful grip it can hold on us.

In "A Hundred Twenty Days Have Passed Since Someone Last Touched You," author Esi Edugyan pens an achingly poignant tale of isolation. It's a sobering reminder of the importance of human touch and connection in our lives, and how the lack thereof can lead to deep emotional damage.

In the gripping "The World Came to a Screeching Halt," author Edugyan captures the sense of despair as life comes to a standstill, leaving the protagonist with nothing but empty streets and memories. This story speaks to the surreal experiences of individuals trapped in an unknown and uncertain world.

All these narratives are just a few highlights from The Decameron Project. The collection presents an unflinching look at the human condition, encapsulating the pain, resilience, and hope that permeates our lives, particularly in times of crisis. Readers will find themselves deeply affected by the stories' vivid depictions, and may find solace in knowing that their emotions and tribulations are shared by others across the globe.

Through the words of these talented authors and the powerful narratives they've crafted, The Decameron Project serves as a beacon for the human spirit, proving that even amidst adversity, storytelling can unite us and heal the most profound wounds.
**My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling.**

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new work of fiction that explores the inner turmoil of a mind trapped in a world that seems to be spinning out of control.

I've always felt like my brain is a delicate, fragile thing, a featherweight that's easily bruised and battered by the whims of the world around me. But lately, it's felt like I'm trapped in a cage with the Hulk, that giant, green, rage-filled monster from the comics. He just keeps pummeling, pounding away at my thoughts and emotions, leaving me feeling battered and bruised.

It started with the accident that stopped Time. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. One minute, the world was ticking away as usual, and the next, everything just... stopped. People froze in place, clocks stopped ticking, and the very fabric of reality seemed to come unraveled.

At first, I thought it was just a weird anomaly, something that would be fixed with a reboot or a restart. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, I realized that this was something much bigger. This was the end of the world as we knew it.

And yet, even as the world around me seemed to be falling apart, my own personal demons were still raging on. The Hulk in my brain just kept pummeling, reminding me of all my deepest fears and anxieties. I felt like I was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, with no escape in sight.

I tried to distract myself with the mundane tasks of daily life, but even those seemed futile in the face of the apocalypse. I'd try to cook a meal, but the food would just sit there, congealing on the plate. I'd try to read a book, but the words would just blur together on the page.

It was like my brain was a featherweight, unable to withstand the crushing weight of the world's problems. And the Hulk, that monstrous presence in my mind, just kept pummeling away, reminding me of my own powerlessness.

I know I'm not alone in this feeling. I've seen others, wandering the empty streets, looking just as lost and scared as I do. We're all just trying to survive, to make sense of a world that's been turned upside down.

But for now, I'm stuck in this cage with the Hulk, feeling like a featherweight in a world that's gone mad. And all I can do is wait, and hope that someday, somehow, things will get better.

**About the Decameron Project**

The Decameron Project is a series of new fiction pieces, each one exploring the human experience in the face of uncertainty and chaos. Inspired by the classic Italian novel "The Decameron," which told the story of a group of people who fled Florence during the Black Death, our project brings together some of the world's most innovative and exciting writers to explore the challenges of our own time.
**"My brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling."**

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new short story by [Author's Name]

I've been trying to write this story for weeks, but every time I sit down at my desk, my mind goes blank. It's like my brain is a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk, and he just keeps pummeling. The words won't come, and when they do, they're all wrong. I'm starting to think that I've lost my touch, that I'll never be able to write again.

It's not just the writing that's the problem, though. It's everything. Since the accident that stopped Time, nothing seems to make sense anymore. The world came to a screeching halt, and so did my good feelings about it being a worthy endeavor. I'm stuck in a never-ending loop of uncertainty, and I don't know how to escape.

I try to remember what life was like before, but it's all a blur. I recall fragments of conversations, snippets of laughter, and the feeling of the sun on my skin. But it's all so distant, so unreal. It's like I'm living in a dream, and I'm not sure if I'll ever wake up.

I've been trying to find ways to cope, to make sense of this new reality. I've taken to walking the empty streets, searching for answers in the silence. But the only thing I've found is a sense of desperation, a feeling that I'm not alone in this madness.

I've seen others out there, wandering the streets like ghosts. We nod at each other, exchange brief smiles, but we don't really connect. We're all just trying to survive, to find a way to make it through this strange new world.

I've tried to talk to people, to ask them how they're doing, but the conversations always feel forced. We're all just going through the motions, pretending that everything is fine when it's not. We're all just waiting for something to happen, for Time to start again.

But what if it doesn't? What if we're stuck in this limbo forever? The thought is terrifying, and it's what keeps me up at night. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the future holds.

And then, out of nowhere, I'll get a glimpse of something. A memory, a fragment of a conversation, a feeling that I thought was lost forever. It's like a lifeline, a reminder that there's still something left to hold onto.

I cling to those moments, to the hope that they bring. I know that I'm not alone, that there are others out there who are struggling just like me. And maybe, just maybe, we'll find a way to make it through this together.

Until then, I'll keep writing, keep searching for answers in the silence. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find a way to escape this cage, to outsmart the Hulk and find my way back to the world outside.
**My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling.**

From the magazine's Decameron Project, a new short story that explores the fragility of the human mind in the face of chaos.

I've always thought of my brain as a delicate thing, a featherweight suspended in a sea of uncertainty. But lately, it's started to feel like I'm trapped in a cage with the Hulk. He's a behemoth of anxiety, a green-skinned monster that just keeps pummeling me with worries and fears.

It started after the accident that stopped Time. I know, it sounds ridiculous – Time, the great constant, the one thing we can always rely on. But it's true. One day, it just stopped. And everything changed.

At first, it was just a feeling of disorientation. Like I was stuck in a never-ending dream. But as the days passed, the reality of the situation started to sink in. The world was frozen, stuck in a perpetual state of limbo. And I was trapped, stuck in this cage with the Hulk.

He's a relentless foe, always pounding away at my mental defenses. What if I never get out of here? What if Time never starts again? What if I'm stuck in this limbo forever?

I try to calm myself down, to reason with the Hulk. But he's not interested in listening. He just keeps pummeling, wearing me down with his constant barrage of doubts and fears.

I've tried to find ways to distract myself, to escape the cage. I read books, watch movies, try to exercise. But nothing seems to work. The Hulk is always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.

I've started to feel like I'm losing my grip on reality. Like I'm trapped in some kind of surreal nightmare. And the Hulk is the monster that's haunting my dreams.

I know I'm not alone in this feeling. I've seen others, wandering the empty streets, looking just as lost and scared as I do. We're all trapped in this cage, stuck in this limbo, waiting for Time to start again.

But until then, I'm stuck with the Hulk. And he just keeps pummeling.

This short story is part of the Decameron Project, a collection of new fiction that explores the human experience in the face of uncertainty and chaos. Each story is a unique and thought-provoking exploration of the human condition, and we're excited to share them with you.

**About the Author**

[Author's Name] is a writer and artist who lives in [City]. Their work has been featured in [Publications] and they are currently working on their first novel.

**The Decameron Project**

The Decameron Project is a collection of new fiction that explores the human experience in the face of uncertainty and chaos. Inspired by the classic Italian novel "The Decameron", this project brings together some of the most exciting and innovative writers working today to create a unique and thought-provoking collection of stories. Each story is a standalone piece, but together they form a powerful exploration of the human condition.
**My Brain's a Featherweight Stuck in a Cage with the Hulk. He Just Keeps Pummeling.**

As I sit here, trying to gather my thoughts, I'm reminded of the absurdity of my situation. My brain feels like a featherweight, trapped in a cage with the Hulk. The giant, green monster is relentless, pounding away at my mental defenses with an unyielding ferocity. It's a battle I'm doomed to lose, but I'm determined to put up a fight.

It's been a while since the world came to a screeching halt. Time itself seems to have stopped, and with it, all sense of normalcy. I'm not sure what happened, or how to fix it. All I know is that I'm stuck in this never-ending nightmare, with the Hulk as my constant companion.

I try to think back to the events leading up to this catastrophe. It's hazy, but I remember it being a chaotic week. Everyone was on edge, waiting for something to happen. And then, it did. The world just... stopped.

People like me, who were already struggling to cope, were left to pick up the pieces. I've seen others, like the woman on the 14th floor, who seem to be doing just fine. They're adapting, finding ways to survive in this new reality. But I'm not like them. I'm stuck, and the Hulk is always there, reminding me of my helplessness.

I've tried to talk to others, to find some sense of community in this desolate landscape. But it's hard to connect with people when you're constantly being pummeled by your own brain. I've heard whispers of a Decameron Project, a collection of stories and tales from the pre-Time era. I've tried to read them, to find some escape, but even those are tainted by the Hulk's relentless battering.

I'm not giving up, though. I'm determined to find a way out of this cage, to silence the Hulk and reclaim my sanity. It won't be easy, but I'm willing to try. After all, what else is there to do in a world where time has stopped?

The Hulk may be strong, but I'm not alone. There are others out there, fighting their own battles. And together, maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to overcome this impossible situation.

Until then, I'll keep fighting, dodging the Hulk's blows and searching for a glimmer of hope in this desolate landscape. My brain may be a featherweight, but it's a featherweight with a fierce determination to survive.

**This story is part of the Decameron Project, a collection of new fiction inspired by the COVID-19 pandemic. Read more stories from the project here.**
I have to admit, my brain's a featherweight stuck in a cage with the Hulk. He just keeps pummeling.

For what feels like an eternity, I've been trapped in this never-ending cycle of anxiety and dread. It's as if my mind is a small, helpless bird thrashing about in a cage, desperate to escape the crushing weight of my thoughts. The Hulk, that embodiment of unbridled rage and aggression, is my constant companion, pummeling away at my already fragile psyche.

I try to focus on the world outside, but it's hard to see anything through the prism of my own fear. Everyone around me seems to be living their lives with ease, while I'm stuck in this vortex of self-doubt and uncertainty. They're like the consular officers who keep telling me to be patient, that I'll have better luck next time. But I'm not so sure. The world outside may seem calm and ordered, but my inner landscape is a war zone.

I think back to the days before the accident that stopped Time, and how it had been quite a week. That was a different era, one in which I felt more grounded, more connected to the world. Now, I'm the woman on the 14th floor, the last person left in a deserted city, clinging to my memories like a lifeline.

But even those memories are fragile, subject to the whims of my own fragile mind. I'm addicted to being awkward, as my mother once said, and it's hard to shake the feeling that I'm just pretending to be someone I'm not. The world may have come to a screeching halt, but my doubts and fears continue to churn, a constant reminder that nothing's ever simple.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm just imagining all of this. Maybe I'm just stuck in some kind of dream world, a never-ending nightmare from which I'll eventually awaken. But the pain feels real, the anxiety and fear gnawing away at my very being.

I glance around my cage, searching for a way out. But the Hulk is always there, waiting to pummel me again, to remind me that I'm trapped, that I may never escape. My brain's a featherweight, stuck in this endless cycle of pain and fear. And the Hulk just keeps pummeling.