Saturday, April 2, 2011
The following is a work of fiction.
Tick, tick , tick, tick. The clock on the wall beat in time with the twitches of the sleeping figure. The room was bare but for small, metal framed bed. The floor tiles were dingy and there was small barred window that sat high on the wall.
The eyelids of the sleeper moved rapidly. Behind the lids in the sleeper's brain an endless struggle raged. Is it real or isn't it? Am I or am I not?
The employees of the institution in which he now slept remembered the day he walked in and asked to be admitted. He seemed sane, but as time went on it was clear he was quite disturbed. Doctors speculated that a traumatic event had cause him to break and that he only had enough presence of mind to realize he needed help before he completely cracked up.
The truth was they had to keep him constantly sedated. A week after he checked himself into treatment he began to whimper and then to whine until blood curdling screams were tearing through the institution.
Was he insane? The doctors and nurses would have said that it was certain. OR somewhere was there a man in a suit holding down a red button. Was our sleeper being called to a place he didn't want to go to do things he didn't want to do. Was he broken? Or were these more delusions? You decide.
Image courtesy of google images