The Path Into My Twisted Mind-collection of short stories

The Definition Of Maddness

The arctic prison had its claw like grip on my sanity. I know not of how many days I have been confined in this steel prison. White was the only colour, bare and emotionless. White represented nothing. No sound, no feeling, just nothing.

The walls bled no life and in return I gave nothing to it. It was actually quite fitting. The room held no soul; I had lost such a thing many weeks ago. Or was it years? It felt like years. The day they threw me in here was the day my wife died.

The only reason they gave was because they though me mad. Fancy me, Jacob Bishop a mad man. Preposterous. You see the definition for mad is;angry, resentful, unstable. I am clearly neither of those things. I am just… me. The room had captured a bed. Instead of white it was made of blue steel. It livened up the room. Sort of, at least it was a different colour. What has the world brought me too?

 I once led a life others would envy. They couldn’t help but peek over the hedge or step in for a bite to eat but it was only so that they could steal gossip and try to spread it around the town.

They were always out to destroy me. They always thought my wife and I had a cover to mask the bitter misery that they thought we led our lives with. But no, they were wrong the only fault we had with our lives was that we had no children. We only had love for each other.

 And yet they tossed me in here. In a white, cold, emotionless room full of nothing, no sound, no feeling. A room that held no soul. A room just like me. A loud buzzing sound evaporated the rest of my thoughts. I had grown quite accustomed to the noise.

I welcomed it almost like an old friend. At least it broke up the day, it was dinner time. I only knew because there were three buzzes.  I imagined the night’s sky engulfed with stars, shining a haunting pattern. Stars see all, know all and yet they do not help all. Would they help me? A portion of white ascended towards the heavens. But not enough so that someone could get out.

A tray full of what looked like pigs’ slop was shoved quite rudely out of the crevasse. I fell upon the meagre meal like a hungry wolf starved from a brutal winter. But in my haste I forgot to wait a full minute before devouring the watery meal.

My hands and mouth burned. I could feel the food heating them just like the imperious pits of Hell. I howled loudly at my stupidity and hunger. I hated feeling the weakness in my bones, the desolation of no one in my world but me. I missed Teodora with a passion so ferocious. The sound defended the tiny arctic prison, the sounds bouncing around and clashing against my ears.

My love...

You must not fight...

You should have died with me.

 I hear her. I thought triumphantly. She calls to me. But she loves me. She would never tell me I should have died. Our love is so strong. It cannot be severed.

My confusing thoughts meddled with me, pouncing around my skull, demanding a release. Yet I cannot defy her wishes. I never had in the past. I never should. Should I start now, with the townspeople? They, they must pay for cutting off her luscious locks of amber and flame tousles of hair. They broke her. Limb by limb.

They must pay…

You must pay…

Forever…

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Inkflower x