Lightfoot
05-02-09, 08:40 PM
((This is something that I've been writing to try and get back into the swing of things. Basically the title says it all; scattered journal entries of a person with questionable mental stability. The entries themselves take part in different places and at the end they'll tie together to form a cohesive story. This is a little different than my normal writing, but I think it's going well. I'll update this every time I write a new entry; I'm up to two so far, so I'll start with those and see how things go. Feedback is welcome.))
Journal Entry #6
I have lost count of the days. I no longer see the sun or the moon from this padded cell I've been locked into. The room has a fetid stench from which I am the source. They haven't let me shower in almost three weeks. I can hear clanking from the buckles on my straight jacket everytime I move. I stretch out my legs and listen for the pleasureful pop.
A stinging light erupts from a hole in the door. I clamp my eyes shut and listen for the door to open. There's no need to see who's at the door. I already know.
"Good morning, Jacob," the man says to me.
"Hello, Steven," I reply. Steven Dempsy. The manager of the facility I am being held in. He's the only staff member brave enough to visit me alone. Everyone else thinks I'm going to bite their ear off.
"Ah, so you're lucid today, good. I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with that distasteful alter-ego of yours." I can hear him try to hide a sigh of relief at the mention of Donovan. "What do you want for breakfast this morning, hmm? Scrambled eggs or Sausage and Gravy? Oh, I know...how about French Toast?"
"Surprise me..." I keep my eyes shut and my head against the padded wall.
"You know, Jake, if you would just take your medicine I could let you out of there. Maybe you could take a shower and get a haircut?"
Fucking lies... I open my eyes and look at the fat balding man through my greasy brown hair.
"I'm sorry Steven, you're going to have to speak up. I couldn't hear you through all that bullshit." A grimace grows on his face and he adopts an unfriendly tone.
"Fine, be that way. I hope you're looking forward to another week." He turns to leave and I shout after him.
"You can't keep me in here!" He turns back and responds.
"Oh, but I can. As long I give you food and water every day I could keep you in here for months for being so uncooperative. I honestly don't understand why you won't take your medicine. Don't you--" I stopped listening after that. He doesn't understand. I can't take my medicine. It changes who I am.
I started thinking of an open field. Rolling hills of shifting green grass. A bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight. I could lose myself for days in a dream like this, and I have before. Just sit back and feel the warm sun on my face. This was my heaven.
"Goodbye, Jacob."
"Goodbye," I whisper softly to the wind.
Journal Entry #6
I have lost count of the days. I no longer see the sun or the moon from this padded cell I've been locked into. The room has a fetid stench from which I am the source. They haven't let me shower in almost three weeks. I can hear clanking from the buckles on my straight jacket everytime I move. I stretch out my legs and listen for the pleasureful pop.
A stinging light erupts from a hole in the door. I clamp my eyes shut and listen for the door to open. There's no need to see who's at the door. I already know.
"Good morning, Jacob," the man says to me.
"Hello, Steven," I reply. Steven Dempsy. The manager of the facility I am being held in. He's the only staff member brave enough to visit me alone. Everyone else thinks I'm going to bite their ear off.
"Ah, so you're lucid today, good. I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with that distasteful alter-ego of yours." I can hear him try to hide a sigh of relief at the mention of Donovan. "What do you want for breakfast this morning, hmm? Scrambled eggs or Sausage and Gravy? Oh, I know...how about French Toast?"
"Surprise me..." I keep my eyes shut and my head against the padded wall.
"You know, Jake, if you would just take your medicine I could let you out of there. Maybe you could take a shower and get a haircut?"
Fucking lies... I open my eyes and look at the fat balding man through my greasy brown hair.
"I'm sorry Steven, you're going to have to speak up. I couldn't hear you through all that bullshit." A grimace grows on his face and he adopts an unfriendly tone.
"Fine, be that way. I hope you're looking forward to another week." He turns to leave and I shout after him.
"You can't keep me in here!" He turns back and responds.
"Oh, but I can. As long I give you food and water every day I could keep you in here for months for being so uncooperative. I honestly don't understand why you won't take your medicine. Don't you--" I stopped listening after that. He doesn't understand. I can't take my medicine. It changes who I am.
I started thinking of an open field. Rolling hills of shifting green grass. A bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight. I could lose myself for days in a dream like this, and I have before. Just sit back and feel the warm sun on my face. This was my heaven.
"Goodbye, Jacob."
"Goodbye," I whisper softly to the wind.