I am alone, in a prison. Some might say it is my own fault, a prison of my own making. They do not know what I know. They have not seen what I have seen, and what I will not deny. People say I am deluded, that I am a crazy man. I do not think so. They shut me up in an insane asylum. If I can not get out, I think I will go insane. That is my one thread of hope, the one thought that keeps me sane. Escape. I must escape.
I have tried many times, and all attempts have failed. They keep very close watch on me, but that does not matter, for tonight I shall escape. One way or another, I will escape. I write this as a testament against cruelty and injustice, for they say I am crazy, and they treat me as if I were so, and try to "cure" me. They whip me till the blood runs freely down my back, staining the white of the building. They starve me to weaken me, but I will not weaken. At other times they stuff me with food and water until I feel I am going to burst. They beat me over the head, and there are many cracks, cuts, and bruises, but they can not make me deny that I have seen what I have seen.
See how the nurses scurry about, trying desperately to get all their work done and to get home to their families. I have no family. All I have is me, and that is all I shall ever have. But that does not matter, for tonight I shall escape.
They say I am crazy, but they are wrong. They say that no man in his right mind can see the things that I have seen, but I have seen them, and tonight I shall make my escape.
Now the asylum is quiet. The day nurses in their white outfits, their own prisons, have all gone home. The night nurses don't worry about me; the guards are here. They don't know that the guards are asleep outside my cell. I reach for the length of rope I have procured and wrap it loosely around my hand, then look around my cage for the last time. Almost everything is white. The walls, the ceiling, the bed, the floor. Everything is white, too white. Only the bars of the window and the bars that serve as a door are black, and against the whiteness of the room they appear even more black, ugly, and spiteful. All the patients are asleep in their rooms, but I am trapped in this rat hole; they do not trust me. All this I must conquer, but first the guards.
They have made a mistake. The bars are too wide. I reach my hands through them and toward the first of the two guards. My "caretakers" are big and mean, but that does not worry me now. My hands near his head and throat, and, simultaneously, I jerk his head one way and push the neck the other. I hear the crack and know that he will not bother me anymore. My hands have always been big, and the strength in them is not easily equalled.
The next guard falls just as quickly. Now I stretch out my arm, and I can barely touch the keys at the body's waist. I pull the guard closer, then grab the keys tightly to keep them from jingling. With my free hand I break the ring that holds them to his belt. I can taste the freedom now. I put the key into the lock and turn, and the door is open.
I walk through the halls slowly. No need to run. I am almost free. It feels good to stretch my legs. It has been so long since I could move freely. I walk down the long, white hall, toying with the rope in my hands, and full of wonder. There are no windows, there are no paintings, no wall hangings, nothing. Just the barren, white walls. The place is bleak and gloomy, despite the white. I must be free.
I hear footsteps. I stop; the footsteps stop. I start again, and so do they. I spin around, but see no one, and the footsteps have stopped. I run. I must not be caught. The footsteps begin to run. I look over my shoulder, but see nothing. Who is this phantom that lurks behind and waits for me to fall or fail, I know not which?
He is gaining on me; his footsteps are closer and closer. I scream out in terror and lash out behind me, but my foot hits nothing. I stumble and fall, and know that it is all over. The phantom is smiling; I know it. Anger surges inside me. I will not let him win.
I grab the rope and, fumbling madly, I finally succeed in tying it around my neck. I look around desperately. There is nothing to tie the other end to! But wait, I see a small window, high up on the wall, the first I have seen, and the last I will see. It is protected by bars. I jump up and race to the wall, feeling the hot breath of the phantom on my neck. I hear footsteps in the hall and see people running toward me. I must escape! I will be free! I leap and grab a bar with one hand, and with my other hand, I tie the rope around another bar. The strength in my arm gives out, and I drop. It is all over. I am free, and the phantom has lost. I see everyone standing beside my taut body, and then all is gone. I feel myself rushing away. I am free.
Well, that's the story. I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any comments whatsoever, please mail me.