Truong wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing, unwilling to touch it. He tries to ignore the sound and turns his body to the wall side. Consistently, it keeps ringing, beat after beat after beat. He awakens angrily and proceeds to pick up the phone. “Who is this?” he says with a high-pitched tone of voice. “Truong, come to the hospital now, your cousin had a car accident. She is in a coma now, you need to come here,” says the voice on the phone. “Mom?” says Truong, “Where are you? Which hospital? I will be right there.”
He grabs his keys and heads straight to his car. The street is empty as everyone in the city is deep in their dream. The only sound that appears is Truong’s car dashing through the streets of Ho Chi Minh City. It is pitch black; hollowness is the word to describe it, the trees and the street that he goes through everyday seem different at this moment, the same trees and street that he used to enjoy looking at every time he passes by them, but now is just another object that is passed by. The sound of summer crickets emerge throughout the dark street like an army chanting before battle, but for Truong he can hear none of it, not a single sound touches him. Everything is a blur, the street light seems dim and hard to see, his breath going in and out of his nose, it keeps racing, his heart beats quicker than it ever was. His hand shakes on the car’s wheel, tears start to appear on his face as the car increases its speed.
Arriving at the hospital door, he quickly opens his car door and leaves everything behind—his keys, his car door wide open. He runs to the reception and shouts, “My cousin, her name is Quynh; she had a car accident. Where?” The receptionist points to the end of the hall and instructs him to turn right at the first intersection.
The darkest time and the time of despair, chaos runs its power—no more laws and orders, the era of conflict and bloodshed, the time of collapse and fear. Truong rushes to his cousin’s room and sees his family all waiting outside of the room named ‘Emergency.’ Still in his tank top and shorts, he walks toward his mom, and both of them hug each other. The sound of his mother crying can be heard throughout the hospital corridors. He then turns to his aunt, his cousin’s mother, and asks the question: “What happened?”
“She was driving home from work, a drunk truck driver hit her on Duong Dinh Hoi street.” Truong’s father answered as his aunt is now trembling and shaking. Her face is emotionless and she keeps looking at the room door, her body briefly moving back and forward. The family falls into a silence, the air around them feels so heavy. Truong feels as if there is a ghost lurking around and it is looking and staring at each and everyone in his family, his dad, mom, aunt and uncle. And more importantly the ghost is looking straight at him, as he feels a sensation of fear and unimaginable pain flow through every single vein of his body. Trembling with terror, he runs out of the hospital to catch some air.
The sky is as bright as ever, a very rare occasion here in Ho Chi Minh city, you can see the full moon with multiple tiny stars shining next to it. As Truong looks up to the night sky he lets out a scream, tears flowing through his cheeks. A woman comes running to him as he kneels down on to the ground, ‘Are you ok mister?’ the woman asks.
“Please god, I beg of you, please save my cousin, I will do anything you ask me to do, please I beg you!” Truong mumbles on and on and on. Loud footsteps can be heard running toward Truong, his father screams out his name, “Truong come!” They both run to the emergency room, a man in a long white shirt with gloves covered in blood stands in front of the family. Truong’s mom and aunt cried at the same time as the man talking. Truong stops and again he can feel his breath, his heart, but this time it is pitch black inside.
The painting featured in this article is taken from a 1617 treatise on alchemy, Michael Maier’s ‘Atalanta Fugiens’. The artist, Matthaus Merian the Elder, depicts the process of ‘Magnum Opus’- turning a primary material into the famed and elusive philosopher’s stone.