Daily Prompt, dreams, events, serial fiction, sleepless, Stories, thoughts, writing

Asylum: Another One Rides The Bus

Oh hello again, I see you’ve returned, aren’t you a lucky person, or did you stick your nose in because you wondered if this was some poorly named erotic story? Doesn’t matter, you’re here now so you may as well sit down and enjoy the story, or sit down and not enjoy it, makes no difference to me.

By now I don’t need to tell you I’ve been abandoned in HADES mental asylum by the family who supposedly loved me, you know that. You also know that the white ghosts who are supposedly here to help us continually say that some of us are crazy, presumably to keep themselves in a job. Then there is others, like me, who are trapped here because we’ve kind of decided that if no one outside really wants us out there why should battle to be out there. Some of us aren’t even crazy.

I think before I got side tracked in my last entry I was discussing how it is that the insurance company are happy to keep paying for my incarceration, if I wasn’t too bad that is where my current mind set is at so I’m going to tell you about it.

So because my employer was a large multi-national corporation they had a bus stop. Bus stop? Where did that come from? Oh I know I was talking to Marcus before lunch that’s where it came from.

So Marcus, he’s about 25 years old, he’s not really insane but he didn’t break any laws so they couldn’t arrest him, however he’s probably not really fit to be around the other crazies that are out in the real world so it seemed a logical choice for him to holiday with us.

A few month ago Marcus was riding the bus, some reports suggest he was sitting in the back seat singing “The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round,” but they were confirmed by less than half a dozen people so it’s hardly what I would call credible news. Anyway he was on the bus when he thought he could smell smoke, he knew he wasn’t smoking, he gave up years before, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from so he did his best to ignore it. After a few minutes the smoke was getting too much for him to ignore, but he did his best.

It wasn’t until the bus stopped at a red light and the black smoke coming from the engine compartment caught up with the bus that Marcus realised the bus was on fire. He sat in the seat, still singing some people say, and thought about what he’d do next. He could alert the driver or he could just move closer to the front of the bus, of those two options he did prefer the second one but before he could do anything the decision was taken out of his hands.

“Fire! There is a fire!” Someone yelled. “The bus is on fire.”

Being one of those people who are about as smart as a plank of wood and have a reaction time that would rival a turtle the bus driver eventually stopped in the dead centre of the intersection and screamed for everyone to get off the bus. Marcus was of course the last to move, not because he was slow but because he was told to do so. As the bus driver ushered the second last person off the bus he screamed at Marcus to get moving. Marcus could feel the heat so he decided to get off the bus.

By the time Marcus was off and clear of the bus the rear end was in flames from the back window to the rear axle. Traffic around the intersection stopped and crowds began to mill around all sides of the burning bus. There was some people making calls on mobile phones presumably desperate to spread the story of a burning bus in the CDB. There some filming the inferno presumably so they could upload it onto the internet in the hope of gaining their own 15 seconds of fame. There was even some people just standing around watching on helplessly.

Marcus was one of the later ones initially, but then he realised something, something that had to be immediately remedied, something that saw him bolting towards the burning bus. No he didn’t forget his man bag, that was firmly strapped to his shoulder, he didn’t even forget his fanny pack and going back towards a burning bus for such items was insane anyway, even he knew that. Marcus was running toward the inferno for something much more important. He’d forgotten to touch off with his electronic ticket and he didn’t want to be charged for the full trip when he didn’t partake in the full trip. Had the electrical system on the bus not cut out in the fire he’d have achieved his goal too because he made it well and truly onto the bus before he was stopped by any of the fireman.

As I said, no laws broken but the powers that be for some reason didn’t think Marcus was fit for living amongst the rest of the insane population that inhabits the city so they gave him to HADES.

So that conveniently brings me back to how it is my insurance companies are happy to keep me locked up here, pay all the bills and give the woman who was once my wife a tidy weekly sum that affords her the luxury of never having to work. Doesn’t it? Of course it does.

See the problem for the company that I work for is that they don’t want word getting out that the work they made me do sent me around the bend and put me in a mental home. That of course means that they see me as a public relations exercise. It’s easier for them to save face with the business world and still look good in the eyes of the public by paying to have me hidden away. My wife of course is only too happy to keep the secret while she’s being paid and the insurance company is only too pleased to keep the charade going while the company pays them to do so.

The thing that does annoy me a little bit is the paper trail that must be created to keep me here has not been exposed. I’ve tried a few times to get journalists on the outside interested in the story and surely it would be an easy story for them to write but it seems whenever someone from an insane asylum contacts the media to tell them they are wrongly incarcerated and they are not insane no one wants to listen…and they say we are the insane ones.

I’m yet to find out exactly how they are falsifying the tests that keep telling the wrong people I am insane. To be honest I don’t even remember doing any tests, I know the therapy sessions have something to do with it but they can’t be everything because I act really normal in those. What I do know is that either the woman who was once my wife, or the company, is paying someone to screw with the tests. I actually suspect it’s both of them, I even suspect that it they could be taking turns at doing it to try and stop people seeing any sort of patterns.

What I do know is that I’m going to have to fix the situation very soon, not because I really want to get out of here, I kind of like my padded walls as I have told you before, but because I need ammunition to add to these files. I think one day very soon I’m going to break into the head white ghost’s office and have a little look see through my files, and anyone elses that take my fancy.

I’m not entirely sure how I am going to do it, lack of a plan is the main reason I haven’t done it yet, but when I figure out how to get myself access to that office for an hour or so without being seen I’m going to dig out as much ammunition as I can find and bury it like a land mine just waiting for someone to stand on.

Previous Asylum story here.


  1. So his name was Marcus.

  2. Interesting. And all the time I’m wondering if he’s telling the truth….

  3. I love the song, btw.

  4. Both asylum posts are great. I love how you call the doctors “white ghosts” and I love the name Dr. Tankard…all the alcoholics there must be chuckling. Well written but with a good sense of humor.

    • both? There is four of them I think. But thanks anyway 🙂

      There might be more to come I’m just waiting for more idiot inspiration…maybe I should look at the people around me a bit closer 🙂

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