The Mental Patient

Chapter 24 - Time to Write

THE dawn explodes in through my barred windows, licking my face with its warm breath of beaming freshness. Scrawling up my fist, I give a robust rub to my eye sockets, my drug of choice at this moment in time is water and air. What is on my agenda today? I can always lay here and count the 423 bricks, which box me in, again. I can always start that book I have been meaning to take a stab at. I didn't hear the slot of the bottom of my cell door open, push through a tray of food, off coloured tea and close it again; those drugs really knock you out. I sit on the edge of my bed, is this what my life has succumbed too? What I did wasn't even that bad; you have people out there who try and destroy whole countries and get locked-up, questioned and let out after good behaviour. And, they are classed as sane, how the fuck is that fair? Maybe it's the way I went about it? It's not really, like I planned it over, well, maybe my Dad, but I had to take my time with that cock-sucker.

No point dwelling on the past, think about the present and the upbeat misery you have dressed people in. I dog scratch at my stubble.

Sitting at my writing desk, no computer; they don't trust me with cords... Or, even shoelaces for that fact, butt-plugs aren't they. But, a pen and paper will do, boredom is the only visitor to this place for me. I think about my mother, she was the most beautiful and cheerful person this world has hatched, she was nowhere near a bad egg, which would be me. Scribble something Kyle...

So once again, I stand on my castles tower staring at my kingdom, the sun has just set, and a glow from the horizon still sits waiting to sleep, my greatest foe. The wind catches my cape and begins to make it almost alive in movement. The year was cart and corset, and humans are heading to the public house beneath me. I can hear every stretch of each leg muscle, and smell every dinner from days before on their breaths travelling on the cold air of an English dusk. The stray dogs below run in packs, chasing prey through the floor of the forests; beyond the forests sits as an expanding industrial town which is trying to forget the past by building the future. Howls, hoots and drunken shouts control the echoes on the background of the snow enchanted mountain-side which deathly shadows the valley. The path from my home to the town moves like a serpent's influence before a strike. Up here, I am waiting for a target to capture, my patience sits on top of this world.

Hours have passed when I zoom in on a young maiden walking alone on the streets, covering herself up with her shawl from the murderous chill in the air, her black hair is knotted and her clothes are tattered, to me through both hunger filled eyes, she is the most beautiful of creatures to ever consume my sight. The thirst begins to take over my calm nature, my heart and adrenaline start obsessing over this being. I must have her; I must get closer and taste the music that plays within her. This feeling is almost benevolence, although, the undercurrent of this feeling is animalistic and dangerous. I step forward towards the edge of the castle. Downwards is Red Speckle Lake, which roars like violent emotions at the peak of passion when their colours kiss one another. I leap from the bounds of gravity from the structure into the air, I let its solitude drag me towards the lake, down, down, for one second then with no effort I speed on the wind puff towards the town; the smell in my sinuses of her overpowers any last rational judgment of human within this shell.

I land on a small home rooftop, gently stepping into a better view as I watch her, within the confine of the shadows of the chimney and darkness rays, I dare not blink. She stops in her tracks, her heartbeat beings to rush with fearful thoughts from her mind until it engulfs the world to its rhythm, then becomes deafening, killing the silent environment with the pounding. I move like an African wildcat into position. I creep towards the buildings edge, in a prowling shape. The saliva appears from my bottom lip, ready to lunge for an attack; suddenly a window opens.

"Claudia, come home!" A voice

I retreat back to the shadows embrace, my prey escaped in a watched upon run home. Not everything is lost as I am in the centre of my foods breeding ground and any human will cure my curse of starvation. I look across the town's skyline, another beauty with loneliness within her pavement steps, trying to keep her drunken mobility to herself as she has judged the world correctly, as a dangerous zoo where true evil has no sex and will strike quietly at the weak. Her face walks the pavement to make sure her eyes do not lead in the wrong impression to other unsociable eyes. A clever action is needed in this hunt, if my mouth will become filled. I come back to the throws of gravity and begin to trek through the filth and rat ridden streets, through the crowds of drunken farmers, industrial workers and street walkers.

"You look in need of a release, stranger" A street walker says.

I stare at her; all of her facial features are outlined with black make-up highlights, her eyes, lips and imperfections. She fidgets with her blood coloured wavy red hair, wearing an old faded purple corset, she smells of her last sex victim.

"And you look like you will die by the hands of one of your drunken strangers, which will be your release, my sweet." I reply in a calm tongue.

There are too many eyewitnesses to take her life; the screams would draw attention, even though the thought had passed my hunger threshold a few times. I proceed in my endeavour.

The stars have begun to dance in the sky to the sound of change in climate. Winter is closing in, meaning longer nights and lesser days, a predator's playground. My eyes scream to be fed as I look for my love, she is nowhere in sight, her footsteps do not escape, her pace has quickened as she is left the comfort of the mobs. Her footsteps are like war drums heading for an unwanted battle, I was her opponent that would be revealed afterwards in this ordeal as victorious. Through the invisible crowds, I pass, with a human sensation of lust and want. Her face to me is still faceless, my steps equal her own and my cape begins snapping at the slight air as teeth to the inedible, her presence shifts around a buildings corner; she becomes missed until my eyes climb around also to see her kneeling picking up her purse. Her eyes rise like the sun to me, then set like it was extinguished by the fear of being the only life alive on the street. I react quite quick as her look made me want to take death... Do I murder or love?

I lose focus on my work of fiction. A rat-a-tat-tat stamps on my unwelcomed door mat, it takes the heart out from my pens swipes. "Kyle, the doctor will see you for your next meeting, you may want to get dressed, please." No affirmation is given as I am pissed off from being distracted. A lost focus is the hardest to get back.