Alone, but Free

I walked through the double doors into the well-lit waiting room where many patients and relatives alike had spent countless hours. I approached the reception desk, walked past to the elevators, as they tried to stop me, I boarded and pressed the button for the penthouse on the top floor where the head, and the mastermind behind this conspiracy, lay in wait for me. As I stepped out of the elevator into the darkness that was the entire room. The elevator doors slowly closed and I was left in total, pitch black. I yelled out, but the sound of my voice bounced back at me, as if the wall was only 6 feet in front of me, but that couldn’t be so if this was the penthouse. I felt around for about six minutes and learned that the room I was in was in fact no larger than a hotel bathroom. I slowly came to realize what had happened, in my determination to confront the asylum, I had fallen into a trap and was now caught in a room I could not get out of, there was no button to call the elevator back up. I curled up in the corner of my new home, feeling cold and alone, weeping for my condition, thinking that if I had it to do it all over again, I would do it so much differently.

I woke up on the forest floor below my makeshift hammock near the pond in the park. It was mid-morning and I was beginning to feel the kind of hunger that comes from going many days without food. I contemplated my most recent dream, it was getting harder to tell the difference between what was real and what my mind made up. I was scared of being caught again but I couldn’t go to the police to report the conspiracy I had discovered without actual evidence, what were my choices? Alistair the detective was my only hope, he had actually done cases and proved things, but I hadn’t seen him since I told him to meet me in the park at 8 at night. Where had he gone? Had he been caught? Did they torture him to find out where I was? Were they on their way here now? These questions haunted me as I roamed the woods looking for berries or other edible plants. During my days in the woods, I grew to understand the birds chirps and learned to tell when someone was coming versus when the birds were just singing. This helped me remain invisible from many intruders into my spot in the woods, but the questions I had soon overwhelmed me and I had to find out what was happening in the town.

I emerged from the woods one morning, I’d decided that the radio station was safest and also would be a good place to find out information. It was early in the morning, but the radio station was buzzing with action, it seemed the past few days had been very eventful. They played the broadcast outside the station so that passersby could listen in. I heard the D.J. describe a tale of two murders which, according to the police were unrelated. The first to die was a man named Sile, he had been brutally stabbed to death in his own apartment by a man named Cleake, who was pleading insanity for a defense. This scared me, had the asylum learned to brainwash its patients? Then the next newsflash brought me back, I heard the name Alistair and was excited that he was mentioned, he had done it, he had proved the asylum conspiracy against all odds. But as I listened to the next statement, I learned that Alistair was the second victim, although the police believed it to be an open case, in my mind I knew that the asylum had reached him and cut him off like a rotten fruit, so that they could continue their crimes. I slumped against the wall when I heard the broadcast; my only friend, my only hope, was gone. What was I to do now? Where was I to go? The woods, they were safe enough. I could hide there indefinitely, I was slowly learning how to survive by eating plants and communicating with the animals. Yes, that’s what I would do. There was no more hope in the world, the town was falling apart and the asylum was making an army of lunatics by brainwash. If I stayed I would only join the ranks, maybe I could revisit the town every now and then, try to convince the people of their fate and bring them to hide in the woods with me. Not now though, I had to survive myself first. I returned to the forest, to the familiar whistles of the birds, the lapping of the water from the pond, and the wind through the trees.

They Got Me!

I woke up with a huge back ache, and groaned as I sat up in bed. As I looked around, I found that my back was the least of my problems, my "bed" was the ground and I was trapped inside of the holding cell that had been my home when I was being held by the asylum people. I saw in the corner my tally of how many times I had seen sunlight, I remember the number because the sun, if I ever saw it, was the greatest part of my day. In my total time of imprisonment in this cell in the sewer, I only saw the sun 53 times,  It seemed like I would have to start up the count again soon unless I found the hidden button that had helped me escape before. It had been sol ong, it took me five minutes of frustration to locate the button and I was just about to press it when I heard a sound outside the door, I froze as the door slid away and standing there was a man I had definitely seen before.

“Who are you?” I asked. “I’m Alistair Oxley, the town detective, and who might you be?” he said. "My name is Robin, Robin Spartacus Moore,” I replied. “Have you seen a girl named Annalisa with chocolatey hair? I’ve been sent by her friend Xiu Li to find her.” Moore’s expression changed upon hearing his words. “We can’t talk about this with that door open, come inside.” I pressed the button to seal the doorway again so we could talk about the girl I had been helping hide here. The fact that I found myself here and that she was gone meant that she was gone, taken by the guards from the asylum. This man was willing to help, and I had a weird sense that I could trust him. I checked my watch, and noticed that if I had gone to work today that my lunch break was nearly over, I decided that it was better to be late than never go without calling, hopefully the boss would look over my tardiness. I rushed out of the room and made it to work just in time to explain my lateness and get scolded and punished by my boss. I was assigned full-day shifts for the next 7 days, I didn't dare argue because I knew that this was probably near my 13th strike.

The next few days, all I could think about was my recent experience with Alistair and how we might be able to expose the asylum for what it was and get rid of their practices once and for all. The fact that they had reopened the room in the sewer was scary, and that thye had also found me meant that I had to hide; I couldn't go home anymore and visiting popular places would be risky. I had to risk one visit back to the apartment to organize my research so the police would be able to understand my work. While I was there I gathered any valuables, thinking I could go to Alistair and trade them for a room or something. I stored my things in the dumpster out back since the trash guys didn't come until next Tuesday, and I headed to the park in hopes of finding a secluded spot I could hide for the next few days.

In the middle of my shift one day, Alistair came running in asking for me; I ran over and took him outside yelling out to my boss, "This'll only take a minute!" Alistair told me what he had learned by investigating around the room and showed me that it was not just the Center for People with Special Needs that I had to worry about, it was a lot of asylums around the country. I said, "Ok, Ok, so we know what we're up against now; this isn't the best place to talk more about the subject. Meet me at 8 o'clock P.M. on the far side of the lake in the park." He gave me a manila envelope and walked away. I went back to work, but at the end of my shift I told my boss that I would be quitting at the end of the week.

Two

I’m pretty good at calling people when I see them nowadays, since I’ve spent so much time around everybody you could think of, and probably some you wouldn't want to. On the way to work in the morning, I saw two women, one definitely older than the other, maybe they were a mother and daughter. To the normal eye it wouldn't look like anything different or starnge, but I could tell that there was something wrong between them, the way they walked and how they didn't talk to each other. As I saw this younger women pass by today, I knew she was struggling just like me, in her eyes I saw sorrow and weakness that only comes from not being taken seriously by her parents and a reality breaking apart before her eyes. I felt sorry for her, but I didn't kow if she would appreciate a stranger that looked like me approaching her and saying I understood exactly what she was going through, also her mother was right there so I might not even get to talk to her. So I stepped around the odd pair and continued on my way to work.


During my lunch break, I went to the waffle place; to my surprise, I saw the younger woman there in the corner, and best of all, she was alone. I was thinking, "This is my chance, take it slow, it's been awhile since you've actually talked to people." As I walked over, we made eye contact, which made me speed up to get to her before it seemed that I was just staring at her. In my hurry, I slipped on the freshly mopped floor and fell. I slowly got up, shook myself off, and picked up the various keys and cards that had fallen out of my pockets. I looked up, embarrassed and about to run away, when I saw her stare, she hadn't laughed or anything, just sat there, I couldn't tell if she cared or not. I walked over and asked her if I could sit down in her booth, thankfully she said, "Yes." I introduced myself as Robin, and learned her name, Lucy. I continued to tell her that I had seen her earlier in the day and could see what she was going through and that I understood exactly how she felt. I told her that it wasn't totally her fault and that things could change, we could help eachother, but as I kept talking her face turned to disgust and she told me to leave right away, that she didn't have any business with strangers. I left quickly hoping that I hadn't ruined my chances, but I knew all hope was lost. I wished I had never come to this restaurant, to this town even. I wondered if my life would be easier or more exciting if I lived in a big city or near the ocean, maybe one day I should find out. One day I would, I would take my savings and travel to the nearest ocean and live there for a while instead of this small, foul-smelling town for a change. It was the end of my break, so I headed back to work, ashamed of the fear I had caused and seen in Lucy's eyes.


After work, I headed home and sat on the couch watching T.V. alone. The day had started off normally, but hsad turned out to be the most exhausting and emotionally stressful of my life, and it was not over yet. At 5:34, I heard a soft knock at the door. Immediately I turned the T.V. off and crept towards the door to peer through the peep-hole. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, Lucy was standing there, she looked tired and her eyes were puffy, like she had been crying recently. I unlocked the door and invited her in. Cautiously, she stepped in and held out her hand with something in it. She told me it was mine, that I had dropped it when I had fallen earlier that day. I looked closer, it was the dog tag that tied me to the institution where I had been imprisoned for so much of my life.


She said, "It took me awhile to decide to return it, but I looked up the place on the tag and I saw what you meant when you said you understood, your file was online because you aren't there anymore. My mom is thinking of doing the same thing to me." I was in awe, I thought I had scared her off, that I would never talk with anyone ever again, but she was here and everything was OK. Then she said, "I have to go before my mom starts to miss me, but I hope this means we can be friends." All I could do was nod in agreement and mumble confirmation of her statement, but it was enough. We shook hands and she left. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn't a dream, then went to sleep to see what my dreams could come up with that was better than what had just happened.

The Ghost of Sherwood

One morning I decided to go on a run before work, I was walking down the street when as I rounded a corner I ran into a man who seemed to be in a big hurry. He stopped and apologized, introducing himself as Pink, I thought it was a strange name at the time. He seemed a bit tipsy, even this early in the morning so I made small talk with him for a while. I learned few things about him except what he did day to day, which wasn’t very exciting, he tended to avoid or talk around anything that had to do with his past or his family. Around 5:30 I said goodbye, we had talked about maybe meeting up at the bar later on.

I reached the park in little time and started jogging. As I ran, the leaves on the trees and the bushes made no sound, it was quiet and still. No one was out except me, I felt alone, but at the same time like I had the power and freedom of many. I ended up by the pond, it was perfectly still, not a ripple or splash disturbed it. It was as if the fish had all flown away, leaving the pond empty. As I stared at the pond, I saw a man’s reflection. As I scanned the opposite shore for the man, I could not see him, when I looked back down, his reflection was still there. I looked closer and saw a face that I recognized, it almost looked like my own, but that could not be possible. I looked at the clothes he wore, they were the exact ones I wore when I was trapped in the mental institution. I shivered and glanced around to make sure no one was around. I decided to leave the pond, taking the quickest route out of the park and heading home to take a shower before work.

A Life Not My Own

Sometimes, before I go to sleep at night, I think about what my life could have been if my parents hadn't sent me away as a child. I could still be living with them in New York City, but instead I'm barely getting by in a town smaller than a few skyscrapers. But I can't change that now, I can only know what I did and hope that what I do now will yield better consequences later.



As a kid, my parents took me to church every Sunday. I learned a lot from the Sunday school tracher and I had fun. One day, after church, I imagined myself to be David and tied a big rock to a rope. I swung it over my head with as much force as I could muster pretending I was slaying the mighty warrior, Goliath, and saving my people; but I ended up hitting my head, which gave me a tremendous headache, and a little bump on my head, which my parents overeacted about.

My protective parents put me in an asylum so that I wouldn't cause harm to myself, or others, again, because the inceident with the rock was not the first time, or at least that's how they explained it to me.

The asylum, or as the "doctors" called it, the Center for People with Special Needs, was like a jail. Every day was the same, I woke up to the same old breakfast, eggs- scrambled with cheese, and some kind of juice. Then they would personally announce that we would have the next two hours for free time, as if it was a deviation from the schedule or something. We had nothing to do in these free periods except read a short list of approved books and play board games and attempt to solve puzzles with missing and broken pieces. If it was nice enough, which it never was, we were allowed to go out in the cement courts and play with deflated dodgeballs. Next came lunch, almost as miserable as breakfast unless you were able to sneak some of your own ingredients into your PBJ's. There was always enough food for everyone, but never enough for seconds or thirds, as everyone would have liked. After lunch, we were separated into groups for team-building exercises in a big gymnasium with observation rooms on the upper floor. At this point in the day, I felt like a mouse in a cage, the doctors would observe us and record what each of us did like we were experiments that they had to study as if they planned on dissecting us later. after dinner, and no dessert, they locked us into our rooms for the night.

Occasionally I would wake up and hear the sounds of the doctors making rounds, the shuffling of their elevator shoes on the tile floor and the whistle that signalled their coming and going, that was not necessary but always present. Sometimes there were other sounds too, some that couldn't be explained until the next day when I noticed that some "patients" were missing, always the quiet ones that would be easily missed, probably because they wouldn't be missed. I noticed though, and that wasenough for me, strange things happened in that plce, and I didn't want to stay to find out.



I wake up some morningsin a cold sweat because of detailed dreams of what happened to those missing kids, the ones that disappeared in the middle of the night. I dream that it could have been me, and I am happy that it was not. I will die before I return to that place, I can only pray that I will not have to make that choice.

Crimes Outside the Castle

I woke up this morning to find myself tired and unwilling to raise myself from bed. I had to look twice at the clock to make sure that what I saw was correct. It was 7:50, ten minutes until I had to be at work over at the bowling alley. I suddenly had enough energy to get out of bed and hurry out the door. I didn't have time for a quick snack so I ran down the stairs hoping that my boss wouldn't fire me for my latest string of late arrivals at work. I had no savings since all of my income went to my basic needs, if I got fired I would have to live on the street until I found another place to work.

It was 7:55 when I rounded the corner of Benson and Popular. Across the street, I saw an old man exit Isabella's Cafe and be approached by a tall, dark man wearing baggy clothes and a medium sized man with a scraggly beard. The old man seemed to jump back in surprise because of what he saw in the tall stranger's hands. I could not hear what they said but I saw the gun, the strangers were demanding the old man to empty his pockets. From where I was standing, the old man was safe as long as he adhered to their demands, so I set off for my job, hoping that I would not be late.

It was 7:58 as I ran into the bowling alley, by then I assumed that the stranger with the gun and his accomplice had finished up and escaped with their stolen goods. I hoped that the old man was okay; to make sure, I decided that after work I would make a visit to the police station to give them a statement of what I saw.

Falling Through The Cracks

I've never been the religious type, but around this time of year I get some sort of feeling, like a connection, to the church and I go to the services, and do churchy things. I guess it helps me feel better because I spend most of my time in my apartment to avoid the awkward societal interaction. After one of these services, I found myself walking through the park, with no particular purpose, just thinking, letting my thoughts flow in and out, not really noticing where I was going.

In this state of mind, I reviewed the events of the year. I reminisced over my successful escape from St. Paul's Institution for the Mentally Unstable. Then, my transition to city life, gradually getting used to the new people and life without medication. I took a look around and I had ended up by the lake, I saw a few people out skating on the ice.

I decided it was a safe endeavor that would pass the time so I rented some skates and went out to the middle of the lake. As I skated around, I contemplated where my future would take me. Would I stay on the run, or settle in the Castle Apartments? Would I make friends or keep to myself?

I found myself alone on the ice. I checked my watch, it was almost eleven o'clock. I heard it before I saw it, a large crack suddenly split the ice under my feet. I barely had time to scream as I was swallowed by the cold, dark water. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, I figured I would die there. Just as I began to go unconscious, I heard a thumping from somewhere in the ice, I only hoped it was someone who could rescue me.