Daily Prompt, humor, serial fiction, writing

Enter the Asylum

It’s more than ten years since I was escorted into this place, although I can’t give you an exact time because I lost count of the years long ago and I can only go by what the white ghosts tell me. You know, when I first came to this place I actually thought the problem was mine, I thought the problem was inside my head. I though problems arose when the voices inside my head applied enough pressure on my skull to finally escape into the real world. Why did I think this? Because it’s what I was lead to believe by those who put me here, although the word ‘put’ could just as easily be substituted with ‘left’ or ‘abandoned’ because that’s what they did.

The mind is a funny thing, what it remembers, what it forgets, some is forgotten to protect you, some remembered to save you. Some experts, and they may be self proclaimed experts, say we remember everything but we just don’t understand how to access it all and while it’s true that many who say that suggest for a fee they can find it there is some truth to what they say.

Over the years I have remembered many things that I did not know were there. Sure it’s easy for you to sit back and suggest that maybe what I’ve been remembering was planted there for some end goal I’m yet to realise but honestly people like you are the reason places like this exist. Armchair physiologists, armchair doctors and armchair know-it-alls that like to constantly pass opinions as fact but never back them up with evidence.

Don’t get me wrong it’s not only armchair experts that claim we are the problem. We once had a doctor come in here and as a part of him telling us how successful he was he claimed he helped a man who was so crazy he thought the tags on his clothes that said ‘wash and wear’ meant he had to wash them while he was in the shower. I kid you not, this guy was trying to pass himself off as some expert on the human mind yet he tried to pull that on us. He also tried to claim helping one patient who we later found out sounded very much like that years Darwin Award winner. Honestly it’s like this idiot didn’t realise even crazy people can use Google.

If it wasn’t for such ‘experts’ passing judgement on others most institutions would have closed down years ago. Again I hear you make your wild judgements, statements like “prisons are filled with innocent people wrongly accused just like institutions are filled with sane people wrongly diagnosed.” And again I refer you to my statement about backing up your stories with evidence. What’s that? Silence? Yes I thought so. Don’t read my words wrong, I’m neither angry at those who judge without evidence or expertise or against them, I accept their right to have an opinion but until they actually admit that it is just an opinion they are no better than many of those I spend time around.

Now where was I before I got side tracked with a few home truths? Telling you about myself and how I got here wasn’t I? Yes I think I was. Ok well I shall continue.

Where is here? Well here is a place called the Harry Admonds, he was the founder, Disciplinary Environment Sanitarium. I know what you’re thinking and you’re right the name means nothing, in fact it’s kind of stupid. But before you wonder any more about the name of the place wonder about the ‘sane’ people who volunteer their family members to a place where the acronym spells out HADES.

So how did I end up in Hades? As I started out saying I actually thought the problems were all mine. I thought it was the voices in my head that were the problem. It took me quite a few years before I actually realised it was the voices in other peoples heads that I had to worry about, the voices that told them I was crazy. I didn’t even get a say in it, by the time their voices had convinced them I was crazy it was too late, my relocation to HADES was in progress.

Like I already stated I’ve remembered a lot of things since coming here but one thing I didn’t need help remembering was the day I arrived, although I use the term arrived loosely. Here’s what happened, cue spooky go back in time background music.

“It’s for you’re own good,” I heard the women who I used to call my wife say as she walked me towards the door.

Walking was probably a bit of a misleading term. To a casual observer it probably looked like I was being walked casually into the building. Hand in hand, total cooperation, one women walking with her husband, almost as if they were visitors, although I was quick to learn visitors were not something that frequented this place. In actuality what was happening was that I was screaming in silence, screaming to not be there, screaming that I was not the one that had issues. But I was also beyond fighting, I had nothing left, they’d beaten me down so far I could barely function, let alone argue my case for not being institutionalised.

“She’s right,” my own mother said from behind me.

“See, even your own mother agrees.” The woman holding my hand said as if it was somehow suppose to make me feel better that my own mother had decided the only place that I belonged was a Sanitarium named HADES.

Although my father no doubt agreed with the thoughts of my craziness he said nothing because he had his hands full trying to control the three kids who had nothing better to do than fight and argue with each other.

“Bless them.” I thought, at least someone still had the strength to argue and stand up for themselves even if they didn’t truly understand what was happening.

So now if you ask me why is it I can remember the day I was brought here so well but not how long I have been here there is the reason. On the day I was escorted into this hell hole my family, the ones who were so quick to claim the problems were all mine, brought my own bloody kids to see me off, and I have not seen them once since that day.

So how does your life look now?

Well these are the stories of my life, my memory and my head. I’m not even sure I recognise these days. Read on if you can handle it!

25 Comments

  1. What a sympathetic character. Sad. But makes you want your know more, good one!

    • Not sure about this one, in my head this character has the ability to point out where real ‘stupid’ lies and that might offend too many people (you know I say that like I have a million readers who are going to see themselves in each story 🙂 )

      • you do a million and one!: )

        • Yeah but each on of them has the potential to offend someone

            • Yeah I have my reasons, I’m not sure which way this will go yet. I’m not in the same frame of mind today as I was when I started it yesterday.

              • I understand that

                • By the time I posted that last night I was in a different frame of mind, I changed quite a bit from what it was originally. I might revisit it but I’ll see where the mind is before I decided definitely.

                  • Well if you find your mind good luck Think I lost mine

                    • Oh I know where mine is the problem comes when I access it, I’m not always sure what’s going to come out. It’s kind of like a lottery only instead of waiting for numbers to come out people wait to see if they are offended, or how they can make themselves offended.

                    • If they are offended they shouldn’t read. I can’t see anything offensive in what you’ve written.

                    • You don’t know what is fact and what is fiction though 😛

                      The thing is I know people that look for offence. Be it written or spoken word, they analyse stuff until they find something to be offended by and then try to apply it to them to justify it. I don’t write for them and I long ago gave up trying to change their minds but these people exist in my life and sometimes I am weary about what I write because of them, other times I write what I write deliberately to point out how stupid they are. But it’s more about moods than doing it deliberately. I could write something that offends just about everyone at any time but I have to be in the right mood to make it really offend.

                    • I just thought of a Paul Simon song that reminds me of you. I’ll try to find it.

                    • Call me Al? We spent nearly 12 months singing that as we built our old neighbours house, it was either sing it ourselves or listen to the neighbour sing it while we worked.

                    • I love all of his songs but it’s the chorus of Something So Right that makes me think of you, about being the last one to know…

  2. mtltechwriter

    Reminds one of that tune..song “They’re coming to take me away..to the funny farm where life is wonderful all the time..Ha-Ha!

    If the author is a forgotten inmate perhaps, in their own mind, this story they’re
    spinning is almost convincing then again, I can appreciate it because after all I am also a prisoner of my own mind just like the rest of us..Ha-Ha!

  3. interesting thoughts, betrayal, and open question how did the character reach the point where his…..

  4. Well done. An authentic voice.

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