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10/12/2009 16:43:33   
Oddmanthefirst
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Asylum
The cause is unknown. A warrant does not exist. Outcast I am, yet I am no danger. What can they achieve through this torture? “I am innocent!” The words linger in the air. Disgrace fills the eyes of the doctors; they rebel at the slightest connection to me. I am one of them: I think like them, I see like them, I talk like them. Yet, apparently… I am different.

Who do they think they are? Anger courses through my veins. I am supreme while they are inferior. For days past, they have ridiculed me. I put up my stand against this corrupted world and this is its aftermath. No, they do not compete in the slightest. Glares increase as the time passes, and I return the favor menacingly. Days and days can pass with no outcome. There is no reason for my stay. That is why I must get out. I must be free again whether it will be short lived or not. Death will not overcome me for death is my partner.

Questions infiltrate my mind. What is this place? Where am I? Who took me here? I have no recollection of my coming. If the last memory serves me right, I was meeting with the president of the United States. Silence lingers. Emptiness fills the cell, excluding the torn mattresses cornering my existence. Step after step around the cell leads me to one conclusion: I must get out. I do not belong here. Words silence my thoughts. Dark words from no direction.

“The doctor will see you now.” His cold voice makes me shiver.

“What do you mean, doctor?” I question.

“The doctor will see you now. I will escort you to him immediately.”


I mutter under my breath, “I am not sick…”

A man in a lofty white lab coat enters the cell. His cheeks bounce with each cold syllable.

"This way," he says blankly.

The two guards are the only condition that keeps me from departing from the path set for me. Their keen muscles, striving for attention in this demonic world, show their inaptitude for learning past the limits. The fiends gaze down at me, wondering how I could complete any act of violence. I turn my view to look onward. The hallway is straight with only flickering ceiling bulbs to light the path. Torn walls adhere to the destruction that plays throughout my brain.

At last, we conclude our journey into the roots of madness. The door brands the name “Dr. Foreman”. My hand involuntarily turns the knob as sweat trickles down my forehead. The guards block my path from escape.

I walk into the forsaken room. White paint covers the wall with no effort of decoration anywhere. There is but a small man who sits upon his throne and a desk. The doctor pushes up his glasses over his cold eyes. He has no hair on his head and covers his shriveled body with his white cloak.

“Sit down,” commands the doctor.

“Wh-who are you?" I stammer.

“I would be your doctor; I see that your other side was at play earlier?” questions the doctor.

“Doctor? Other side? What are you talking about?”

A maelstrom of thoughts brews within my mind. What could he possibly be talking about?

The doctor picks up the case file and brandishes it in the air.

“This is what I am talking about.”

He hands me the printed file from across the desk, carefully avoiding the massive amounts of paper stacks and other trifles that consume it.

“I am sorry you had to find out this way…" he says with no trace of sympathy detected.

“No you are not…”

“If you want to keep alive, you must do this. Your punishment may be duller than what has been expected previously if you cooperate. Drugged in this asylum is your only option, unless hanging seems more appropriate to you…”

Blood pumps through my veins and rage fills my eyes. They think I am crazy! I control myself and no others. Drugs shall not degrade my existence. I am perfectly sane! I do what I have to do to keep this sanity in an insane world. It is not me who is insane, it is the rest of the world that have no thoughts, no feelings; they are the different and I the norm. I must remain victorious for I am their superior. They shall not demean me. I am superior!

I seize a scalpel, lying on the desk, and protrude it through the defenses of my victim. Scalpel and skin are but a kiss away from instantaneous death.

The victim’s heart beat increases with each second.

“Death is just a kiss away, will you embrace and smother it or will you let it wither?” Sweat trickles from the victim’s face onto my cold arm.

"I leave you one option; accept it, and death will come to knock another day.”

“What is it that you want from me?” Fear corrupts the doctor’s face.

“I want freedom.”

”You are crazy!” His fear soon turns to anger. “Your range of personalities is too vast for the average human being. You must be drugged to keep humanity itself sane. Death is your only other option.”

A burst from the door results in the end of my parade. The guards charge in with cavalry across the remnants of the broken door.

I grasp the scene. Sense and stability are to be overcome in the run for salvation and the end of humanity itself. This could mean my only escape, freedom within my hands. Yet my confidence lacks and for that the outcome may not be of what is expected. I grasp the weapon in my hand tighter.

“Let me through!” My confidence bolsters.

The doctor and I pass through the soldiers. Death givers are in each hand of the numerous unknown men. Each one bearing an insignia of corruption and hatred on their helmets: a bald eagle. There is no humanity here, just tools used by civilization to get what is needed to be done for the world to remain “sane”. Black latex hides their physical features and bullet resistant armor covers their bodies. I break into a brisk walk with the doctor. As I move faster, the body becomes harder to drag. Every step becomes harder than the last. Something is not right. I turn to the face of the doctor. His eyes stare into the unknown. His mouth, gaping in a silent gasp towards the military personnel behind me. His blood, trickling down his body from his neck towards the gates of Hell.

A lone figure steps forward from the unknown men, a blade in one hand with a bloody rag in the other.

“The world must not know you, Jacob. You are a murderer and a coward. Law has its boundaries around insanity, but I do not…”

A hole appears through my chest and my existence fades within the wind. The scalpel falls from my hand onto the red floor.


< Message edited by Oddmanthefirst -- 10/18/2009 22:34:17 >
AQ DF  Post #: 1
10/18/2009 22:31:50   
Oddmanthefirst
Member
 

I wrote this story when I was in 8th grade, I tried revising it recently. Here is the revised version.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Haunted House

“But I don’t want to move to this old and nasty house!” moaned Jill.

The pink ribbons in her thin brunette hair matched with her bright rose dress. My disapproving eyes turned to her; she replied with her tongue.

“I’m sorry but this is all that we can afford right now,” replied my Dad.

His face resembled sympathy. He stroked his coarse gray hair with his right hand, with his other on the wheel.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be here either, I want to go back to our old neighborhood!” I groaned, trying to make it as evident as possible that I didn’t want to be here.

“That’s enough Jack and Jill!” shouted my mom. Her strong words indicated that she was done with this trivial badgering. “Let’s at least give it a chance.”

A small girl galloped out onto the street, panting. Hot rubber flew off the wheels of our Toyota Corolla. Approximately two feet lay between the stopped car and the young girl.

“Stop!” she shrieked.

Rags of remnant clothing covered her frail body. Her hair was a very light blonde and she had a pale face.

“Just please stop…,” she cried.

Motherly instincts took over my mother as she rushed out of the car. She kneeled before the young girl.

“Stop what honey? What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I’m warning you…, do not go in tha-that house,” the girl stammered.

I felt scared, a feeling that I have not experienced in a long time, and I wanted the girl not to be there with us any longer.

The girl looked sharply at my mom. The autumn wind howled and the dead leaves of October started to fly, creating a myopic scene. Nothing could be viewed; one could not even look at one’s own hand.

As the leaves cleared, the girl was no where to be found.

“What do you think that she means by that?” my dad joked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” I said.

My mother’s expression clearly showed one of confusion as she reentered the car. We continued our way to our new house.

That night, sleep was not easy to overcome. Something about that girl made me want to believe her, yet logic had deemed it implausible. Out of the darkness, a deft screeching noise was heard.

“What was that?” I whispered.

The noise became louder and louder. I quietly walked across the bare wooden floor to the closet. Plastic covered the furniture scattered in my room. As I got to my destination, the noise became louder. My ears could no longer take it, my hand grasped the knob and I tugged the closet open as forcibly possible. The noise ceased to exist as the door became ajar.

“Whoa,” I exclaimed.

Then I went back to my disturbed bed and looked out the window to find that the lamp post outside was flickering.

“Jack! Jill! Come down for breakfast!” shouted my mom.

I sleepily woke up and got out of bed. I stumbled down the creaky steps to the kitchen. My Mom was cooking pancakes and my Dad was drinking coffee, black as usual.

“Honey, you have bags under your eyes!” shouted my mom.

“Well, I had a trouble sleeping last night…” I quickly changed my mind and averted the topic at hand. “Mom, can I have some new sheets? I mean, I’m thirteen years old and I still have sheets that are made for toddlers,” I complained.

“I’ll think about it,” replied my Mom. “Oh my goodness, where is your sister?”

“Please go up and get her Jack,” my father ordered.

“With pleasure…,” I sarcastically answered. I quickly excused myself from the dinner table. I avoided the massive amounts of boxes, which contained personal trifles in our living room, and started to ascend up the stairs towards my sister’s room.

When I got up there, I went to Jill’s room. There I steadily looked upon the room and checked inside the bed. Jill could not be found, and the satin bed attire was left with not a single wrinkle.

“Mom, Jill is not here,” I shouted.

“What do you mean: she’s not there?” yelled my Mom.

I heard frantic pounding on the staircase. My mother scattered across the wood flooring and stood before me. All of the breath in her body exhaled out of her mouth as tears swelled up in her eyes.

I state the obvious, “She’s not there.”

She slowly turned around and went with a full sprint to the nearest phone. I walked out of the room and stared towards the attic door. I sluggishly cavorted towards the rope. I tug hard onto the rope and a staircase fell upon me. Each step cracked as I went my way up. An abyss consumed my senses. My way out suddenly ceased to exist as the staircase closed. I felt an inability to breath. I frantically gripped my heart and scrutinized the scene. A single gold crown lay before me. I steadily picked it up, confused, and placed it on to my head. I turned around and saw Jill.

She confronted me and put her hand onto my lips.

“Listen,” she whispered into my ear.

An eerie voice sang “Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down….”

The floor shifted to the right. The pit of my stomach started to hurl onto the confusion that lay before us all. Chaos erupted into my head. This was the end. This was always the end.

“And broke his crown….”

My crown slid off my heard and broke. “And Jill came tumbling after…” I failed to see my sister. My head and the wood floor met, my mind decided to take a nap.

When I woke up, I saw a pale face with blue eyes and white hair.

“Yo- yo- you look just like that girl,” I stammered.

“So you’ve met my sister,” he mumbled. His shyness was quite intriguing.

Something was clearly not right. The qualities also seemed to differ from that of the norm. It was all so queer. My mind lit up as I solved the problem that lay before me.

“Wait… I just figured something out!” I screamed cynically.

The boy started to back away.

The boy’s eyes became fearful. I slowly walked towards him.

“You know what we do with humans?”

There was no reply.

“Well, you are about to find out,” I howled.

My eyes turned to dark burning coals and I lurched towards him. He started to scream but it was no use. He was now my new ghost pal.


< Message edited by Oddmanthefirst -- 10/18/2009 22:32:24 >
AQ DF  Post #: 2
10/18/2009 22:34:58   
Oddmanthefirst
Member
 

Claw

Sweat trickles down his forehead. He glances to the right and left of the chamber to meet fearful glances. His cold blue eyes long for the freedom of this nightmare. Freedom mocks him from the other side of the transparent barrier. Four barriers corner the masses of people into a single cube.

Each creature inside the cube piles up onto one another. No food, no water …no hope. Darkness plagues the enclosed space with abrupt showers of dangerous light at times.

The same tattered clothes from days past rest on the man’s athletic body. The stench of death engulfs everything. The man’s shaggy crimson hair, which covers his whole head except his eyes, is held back by a small black hair tie. The people here call the man Joe. They comment on how he is known to be a brave and valiant fighter, yet none of these attributes seem to fit him. At least not with Death in their presence.

A single steel claw hovers above. Three crisp-edged points creates a hand, resembling a construction crane. The claw hangs from above by a rusting iron chain. Looking for its next meal, it looms mystically over each individual.

Fatigue settles upon the eyes of many. Each one of them knows their fate: they are to be taken away by this beast. There is no escape! They are all tired, hungry, and dead inside.

A sharp sensation penetrates throughout Joe’s body. A friend taken day by day. To him, there is no point in life. No single aspiration to look forward to. There is only one future: death.


Blinding light scorches the night into day. The game has begun. Gliding through space, searching, the claw becomes alive. Fear persuades the legs of the hopeless to run. Chaos commences. The claw swoops down to the floor, only to meet clean air. With all its three fingers, it retreats into the sky and the day turns to night.

Joe strolls to the center of the cube’s bare floor. His legs ache with each step. He meets his destination and lifts his head up high. His blue eyes stare deftly up into the night.

“Leave these people be!” he shouts. “Let me be your sacrifice,” demands Joe.

Not one person tries to stop him.

Day begins once again. The claw swiftly cuts through the air. A blur of speed unites the claw with Joe. A powerful force grasps him, crushing his bones. The claw levitates the blue-eyed man. The crowd below resume their positions. Joe has no effect on any one of them, for their fate still remains.

Joe is now substantially above the crowd. The claw has taken him to the heavens. Nuts and bolts compound the overall consistency of the numerous bases of the gigantic machine. A feeble man is the nervous system of this deathtrap! His glasses cover his dark eyes as a white coat covers his pale body. A smirk creases the operator’s lips as he looks upon his newest victim. With a simple press of a button, the man goes flying through the air before being caught again. He is playing with his food… The operator fiercely cocks the joystick to the left. Residing there is a hole. The hole leads to Death's doorstep. Reality’s cool touch lands on the man. He is going to die. The claw releases its grasp of the man over the trench. He quickly falls into the unknown.

He tries to scream, yet no words come out of his mouth. His blue eyes look up as the day turns to night once again. The ground shakes and a body now rests upon a red floor. A floor to be stained once again.



< Message edited by Oddmanthefirst -- 10/29/2009 22:13:18 >
AQ DF  Post #: 3
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