Friday, December 9, 2016

Tremble by Jessica Singleton a fictional story

               

                                                                  Tremble 
                                                                        By;
                                                          Jessica  Singleton
                                                          A  fictional  story 


                                                                                                                                                                           
                                  


A fact is something that can be proven.  An opinion is just free to have and share. An opinion does not have to comply with norms of society.  But paranoia is the opinion that puts you on medication and locks you up in  an asylum.
And all it was, was my own opinion. 
Now I'm locked up inside.


They say that you are the only owner to your mind's door.  So no one can unlock that door but you.  When you dream at night, it does not appear to be that way. You can't seem to shake the way it all seems so real.  

He was tall and thin. He could sing like an angel.  But his mind was a coloring book that looked like a scribble war conducted by insane children.  

They kept him in the padded room. In the morning he was taken for his shower and then he was allowed to eat his breakfast in peace.  No one came to visit him. 
When ask how he felt or what he was thinking, he would never answer those questions. He would sit around talking about the balloons.  Not a circus or a party. No reason for the balloons but he had to talk about balloons.

I had worked there at the state ward for two years, when I first met him. I did not think anything. He was not scary to look at. He did not stink. I did not know him. I just did not get it.  I assumed he must have some childhood memory that  had to do with balloons.  It was not my job to give the patients therapy. So I never ask.  Balloons did not seem that interesting to me at the time. 


Part 2


Jim was walking down a long hallway to no where.  He saw the door finally. It had a big old skeleton key hole. Light was coming out of the key hole. Same dream as the ones before.  He walked to the end of the hallway.  Jim stood in front of the door and he did not try to open it again.  Something about that door scared the hell out of him. He could not remember what it was about that door that bothered him.  He just knew that the door kept something. Something that could not come out to play.
Welcome to hell.

This was the first time that he heard the stepping noises.  Now someone was walking on the hardwood floors on the other side of the door.  He did not know why but he did not move. He could move but he did not.  Something was getting itchy in his head. Like a bad taste in his mouth. He knew this feeling. It was like when you have to start over on something that you  had already done before. You already put a lot of time into. It makes your brain itch.  
The feeling had come home. 
Now he knew this did not make sense.
He was not doing the walking.
But he knew the one behind the door.
He knew how they felt.
Then he saw their eye ball looking out of the key hole. 
It looked like a woman's eye.
But when the person moved, they were not a woman and they were not human.
That made Jim nervous.
That thought again.
I have been here before.
But he was still lost.
Then he woke up.
Jim was sitting in his padded room again.
He noticed that the walls were not padded anymore.
The room was dark except a light coming from the window. There was an old chair sitting next to him.





Jim stood up to stretch his legs. When he heard the orderly coming down the hallway. That sound was always the same. The keys jingling and the footsteps. 
When the orderly came into Jim's room, he gave him his nightly medication.  The green pills made you sleep. The red ones helped you calm down.
But Jim was not sleepy.
All they let him do was sleep.
This was not a life.
This was a cage of regret.
This was like being mocked.
Jim pretended to take the pills.  He was sick of sleeping. It is not like they'd check on him in the middle of the night.
Once old nurse man was gone, Jim took the pills out of his mouth.  But that is when Jim realized that the orderly did not comment on the changed room.  The pills left a different after taste in Jim's mouth tonight.  It was like a cough liquid that had aged so much that it was lethal now.
He threw up in his floor.
Those pills they tried to give him, once exposed to spit or wet from his mouth, they seemed to expand.  They had a balloon effect.  The pills turned into balloons.  Then they exploded in thin air.  What came out of them was a liquid that ate up the floor. Thank heavens they did not do that to his stomach.


Jim saw something that the orderly left in his room. It was his medical chart.  The chart did not have the usual history of the patient.  It had a list of things to do.  It was instructions on how to make balloons. Not normal modern day balloons but vintage balloons that were made from the bladders of dead animals.
That did not make sense.
Why did the hospital do this to him.? This was a hospital not a circus.

The event took place three different times before Jim saw his padded room again. He kept telling all the orderlies what happened that night. 
He even begged them to move him to a new hospital.
No one cared.

Then one night Jim woke up to the balloons again.  Only this time the door to his padded room was left open. He walked out of the room.  That is when he found himself in the same hallway as before.  This time, when the eyed creature was done looking out at him, it opened the door.  Jim found himself standing face to face with himself.  The part of himself that made him that way.
It was hard to know that part of himself existed.

Once he faced the truth, then he stopped going through the dreams.
Jim got better and he moved into a room that was not padded.

The darkest part of me stays in it's own company.
So no one can see it
So no one can hurt it.

The End








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