The madness is like a fear burning me.
Someone has whispered in my ear, “do not believe”.
My brain is saturated with words that beat
endlessly to and fro. I am not saved, I am lost,
I am insane!
Bars are at my windows and the wall of my cell
echo my words aloud in a never-ending rhythm.
My feet are tied together to the foot of my bed
and the leather belt around my waist is tight
and hot. I really am insane.
As I move my arm a chain rattled. I am spread
eagled. My side aches from an old operation.
My feet and my hands are tortured and numb.
No longer a “crown of glory” I wear around my
head, my hair is a tangled mass against the
sheet.
Someone enters my room and stands by my bedside,
he binds me, opening my mouth, sliding in my fix,
I gasp and gag, I feel my throat burning -- I
swallow. My hands and feet leather bound now
I cannot speak. My mouth opens to let out a
scream, there was silence!
Many here including the ones who wear white are
lost.
The pain is so intense now it seems I can no
longer endure. Just at the moment when life
seems departing; I see a face. The shrill voices
are stilled, the years which have passed quickly
vanish. I am in the sanctuary. The vision
surreal, beauty and perfection in one.
It seems I am a child again kneeling to say
my prayers at my bedside. I gaze in awe at the
painting on the wall. I see the old gray stone
outlined against the deep olive green of the
canvass. A branch of evergreen and a twig of
holly lie in the snow. A woman clothed in a red
robe is kneeling. Her hands are clasped and her
face is an expression of peace. I am the woman,
I am free, I am no longer lost, I am now sane!
I awake feeling the Drs. have meet together.
The board to decide my fate. The older Dr.
who I did not like asks me a question “Do you
hear voices?”
Disregarding his meaning, acting as though
they were a group of casual friends, I
innocently remarked, “Why yes Dr., I hear
voices. Right now I heard your voice and also
the other Drs. talking. I smile and glimpse
at the head Dr. I’m aware these two Drs.
Are in constant opposition. I detect a glimpse
of amusement and a twinkle in his eyes. The
other Drs. at the board smile also. The
Dr. who is questioning me is very strong
and stern. “Young lady do you understand what
I meant about hearing voices? I am very busy
and have no time for foolish games, where you
joking?" I apologized and explained yes, I know,
but I have been so worried by the question and
although at one time I heard voices I don’t
anymore.
My apology was accepted and the board recommends
my parole. I thank the entity and the energy
that surrounds me. The Drs. didn’t ask the
question of the man in black who comes to me.
He would come to me as a child when I played at
my grandmothers’ house in the back yard. There
it was, the biggest, fullest weeping willow tree
I’ve ever seen. I would hide there and play
and the man would come to see me. He spoke to
me. He stills comes to my willow tree sometimes
and talks to me only my willow tree is my home,
my room, my bed.
READER'S REVIEWS (4) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"An interesting beginning, but I can't help but get the feeling that I'm missing out on something... like the rest of the story. Get more involved, more into depth. What exactly is going on here?" -- Bitch.
"An interesting piece, which begins as poetry and ends almost as prose, maybe reflecting the increasingly disordered thoughts of the woman? I noticed one or two errors of tense (the piece is written in present tense, which works well, but there are a couple of past tense verbs). There are also a few things that need tidying up ("Dr." instead of "Doctor", etc.). But there are moments where the distress and confusion come through really well. Thanks for posting :)" -- Simon King, Ilkeston, Derbys, United Kingdom.
"With the exception of a couple of typo's, this piece is well written. Clearly documenting what it must feel like to be in a situation that is out of control. Visual and auditory hallucinations can be interpeted in many ways, for some they are friends and others they are nightmares. Your piece demonstrates this nicely, your story makes it's point without saying more than needs to be said! Good Work!" -- Monte.
"you should make this into a movie, and cast Lea Ving. Very good, indeed." -- Bob, Ward, CO, USA.
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