Post by Harley on Jul 12, 2009 20:09:53 GMT -5
PRE-READING WARNING: this story is about patients in a corrupt asylum. there are uncomfortable situations, so if this kind of stuff does not appeal to you, you should not read!
this is a short story i'm writing. the two characters involved you may know are Harley and Roswell, my two weasel characters. they're not brothers in this story, though.
the first four chapters are written, but i can't post chapters three and four because three contains domestic abuse and four contains worse. if three is okay to post, tell me please. if any of you want to read chapters three and four, note me privately!
anyway, here are chapters one and two!
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Midday, Blacksburg Sanitarium. It was a usual day, as nothing exciting happens in such a dreary place anyway. a building freshly painted can't cover the rotting that's going on inside. Blacksburg Sanitarium had been notorious in the news for cases of mistreated patients and the sort, of neglect, abuse, and sometimes much worse. however, it all had been overlooked. Most of the time, courts don't want to deal with cases where it's a mental patient against a janitor. After all, any personal conflict could create such a storm.
Noon is lunchtime. This is one of the two guaranteed times a day when patients get to interact, something they've grown accustomed to--so much so that taking away lunch time or free time is a punishment. After all, what else is there to look forward to in such a dark existance?
The colors in Blacksburg are lifeless. Patient's uniforms are jumpsuits, all colored off-white, save for the criminal patients who wear blood-colored jumpsuits, an ironic statement. The colors through most of the building are shades of grey, and every shade of white except for white itself. There is the occasional pastel here and there, but it all has worn off. None of the doctors cared for it, though it was one of the only pretty things patients got to see.
Most of the patients were behaved. They very rarely acted out, for they knew what happened if they did. It was all just understood rule. The occasional patients that were terribly severe, such as the paranoid schizophrenics, the antisocials, and the dangerous ones, were taken away to be given a special medicine. this medicine was not discussed openly amongst the patients, or even the janitors. it was felt it needed to stay classified.
The lunchtime bell beeped over the intercom at four minutes after twelve. the doctors would swear it was precisely at twelve, though. Harley was sitting patiently in his room, on his bed. The sheets smelt bad. he couldn't remember the last time he was given clean ones. Sure, he had lucked out and gotten the only nice janitor, but the staff as a whole wouldn't change the bedding often. Harley had thrown up several times in his bed and it had yet to be cleaned.
Through all the vomit, though, he knew it smelt better than some of the other patients' living situations, He was lucky, he had gotten the nice janitor. Janitors were assigned to different hallways, and his was nice. He had gotten the nice janitor.
Harley had been sent to Blacksburg around two years ago when his schizophrenia got the best of him. He hadn't meant to set fire to that building, and no one was killed or even severely hurt. he had thought that he was trying to help them. Blacksburg had done a number on him though, His thoughts were much faster and repetitive, and he often found himself repeating things. Blacksburg had done a number on him, because he couldn't remember most of his life before Blacksburg.
He learned to deal with it, though, because he had the nice janitor.
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---CHAPTER 2---
---LUNCH TIME---
The door opened to Harley's cell, and in stepped the person he looked most forward to seeing: Jonathan Mayers, a tall, skinny mess of a coyote. He was scraggly and dirt-colored, and had a hoarse voice that sounded much like a squeaky toy that was being choked, but he was the nicest person Harley had ever met.
"Lunchtime, kiddo!" he said, jingling his keys out of the cell to Harley's door. Harley's eyes lit-up when he saw the janitor.
"Really? i thought for a second i had lost the privilege for today, you're late!" he said, standing and smiling. He ran his hands back through his hair. What a mess, he thought. He was afraid to showers, so he always had Jonny tell the faculty Harley was hydrophobic and would have panic attacks in the shower, so he took him to shower at night. The truth, though, was that Harley had not bathed for around three weeks. His hair was ratty and had began to dread in places, and it was greasy. He smelt of his own vomit, and it was getting to where it could be noticed at a distance. Jonny cared for him just the same though.
"Harley, you know you actually have to take a shower at some point, or they'll put you on maximum security for rabies." he said, smirking. That statement from anyone else would have made Harley angry, but he cracked a small smile.
"I know, i know. I just..." he started, then got quiet. Jonny knew the words he was going to say before he finished the sentence.
"I know, bud. The other patients scare ya. but, they are just as afraid as you are." Jonny said, patting Harley's shoulder. Harley sighed.
"But what if one of them..." he started, and Jonny finished for him again.
"Harley, every patient in this area either doesn't know what sex is, or is terrified of it like you are. Those who aren't are in a totally different wing." he said trying to reassure Harley, who grinned.
"I guess i could tonight, then." Harley said, smiling some. He stepped out into the hallway with Jonny. the other patients had already went to the cafeteria to get their food, as if it was something new. Harley had the day's figured out. It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant spaghetti...or at least, something CALLED spaghetti.
Jonny smirked. "They're always so excited to get food." he said. Harley nodded.
"Like it's a reward..." he said, then stopped. He remembered it was pretty much a reward. you had to earn food. Act up, and you got sent to your room without lunch or dinner. He still couldn't believe they actually did that...
Jonny walked with Harley to the lunch line, where they both grabbed trays. harley narrowed his eyes and scraped a piece of something off his tray.
"Lucky me, i got the tray with yesterday's food on it too." Harley said loud enough to be heard by the cafeteria workers. Jonny bumped him.
"Be nice! the washing machine doesn't work well." he said, showing his teeth in a grin, making sure Harley knew he was sarcastic. Harley laughed. he went down the line and got the various foods slopped onto his tray. he thought back to high school near every day when this happened. In high school, he thought, you could put little wax sheets over your tray so your food didn't have to lay right on it. Little wax sheets kept the food from getting dirty.
Harley reached the end of the line and looked at Jonny, who hadn't gotten much. He got other food because he was a janitor; sinking to cafeteria food even makes a janitor look bad.
Harley took a seat at the table with the only other two patients he really interacted with. One was Roswell (just Roswell), a behemoth when it came to his height at just an inch short of seven foot, but lanky and scrawny. he never ate. He spoke only in third person and was as timid as a rabbit, startling just as easy too. For his height, he was a coward. The other was James Perkings, a neurotic rat who had been a patient for around six years. No one really knew what exactly was wrong with him. Most just thought he was spastic.
Harley smiled to the two. Jonny, Harley, Roswell and James all pretty much stayed together. They didn't really interact with the other patients much at all. Roswell was too shy, and James didn't talk well. Jonny stayed with these three because they were the ones he had grown attached to. The other patients were okay, but he actually enjoyed the company of those three. Harley just didn't like anyone else.
Roswell sniffed his food and cringed. Harley did the same, sticking out his tongue.
"This smells like yesterday's food reheated..." he said, repulsed. Roswell nodded.
"The spaghetti makes Rozzy's tummy hurt." he said, frowning. Jonny smirked.
"Well, Rozzy, i'll make sure i can getcha some fresh sheets if you get sick." Jonny said, patting the tall weasel on his shoulder. He didn't work on that hallway, but he made rounds to make sure the less cared for patients weren't being neglected. It had happened. James was eating voraciously at his food. He had been denied lunch for two days for not answering his janitor when he was asked why his sheets were dirty. He assumed it was just that he had been sleeping in them for weeks with no change, but he wasn't sure and didn't want to lie.
As lunchtime passed, Roswell overheard patients at another table discussing something strange and perked up his ears. They were discussing patients that had abruptly disappeared, and Roswell dropped his head. he had noticed people were disappearing, and it was making him sad. Jonny looked up in between bites of food.
"Rozzy? what's goin' on, buddy?"
Roswell shook his head. Anything even remotely upsetting was difficult for him to talk about.
"Rozzy...Rozzy hears people talking about the people that went away. The ones the doctors took away." he said, sniffling. Harley looked to Jonny.
"I noticed that..." he said, pushing his tray away. Jonny nodded.\
"The doctor's trying some new medicine on the most severe patients. It's some medicine that he himself formulated. I don't even know the name or what it does. he just says it's some sort of miracle drug." Jonny said. Harley thought on this for a second, then turned to Roswell.
"I doubt he'll use it on any of us." he said, grinning to reassure Roswell. Roswell smiled back. It had been two years and Roswell had never spoken of exactly why he had been insititutionalized. it was just assumed he never wanted to talk about. Harley was now wondering, though, and decided to ask, seeing as they were on a serious topic.
"Rozzy, why are you here?" he asked. Both James and Jonny jerked their heads to Harley, then looked to Roswell.
"Well..." Roswell began.
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this is a short story i'm writing. the two characters involved you may know are Harley and Roswell, my two weasel characters. they're not brothers in this story, though.
the first four chapters are written, but i can't post chapters three and four because three contains domestic abuse and four contains worse. if three is okay to post, tell me please. if any of you want to read chapters three and four, note me privately!
anyway, here are chapters one and two!
----------
Midday, Blacksburg Sanitarium. It was a usual day, as nothing exciting happens in such a dreary place anyway. a building freshly painted can't cover the rotting that's going on inside. Blacksburg Sanitarium had been notorious in the news for cases of mistreated patients and the sort, of neglect, abuse, and sometimes much worse. however, it all had been overlooked. Most of the time, courts don't want to deal with cases where it's a mental patient against a janitor. After all, any personal conflict could create such a storm.
Noon is lunchtime. This is one of the two guaranteed times a day when patients get to interact, something they've grown accustomed to--so much so that taking away lunch time or free time is a punishment. After all, what else is there to look forward to in such a dark existance?
The colors in Blacksburg are lifeless. Patient's uniforms are jumpsuits, all colored off-white, save for the criminal patients who wear blood-colored jumpsuits, an ironic statement. The colors through most of the building are shades of grey, and every shade of white except for white itself. There is the occasional pastel here and there, but it all has worn off. None of the doctors cared for it, though it was one of the only pretty things patients got to see.
Most of the patients were behaved. They very rarely acted out, for they knew what happened if they did. It was all just understood rule. The occasional patients that were terribly severe, such as the paranoid schizophrenics, the antisocials, and the dangerous ones, were taken away to be given a special medicine. this medicine was not discussed openly amongst the patients, or even the janitors. it was felt it needed to stay classified.
The lunchtime bell beeped over the intercom at four minutes after twelve. the doctors would swear it was precisely at twelve, though. Harley was sitting patiently in his room, on his bed. The sheets smelt bad. he couldn't remember the last time he was given clean ones. Sure, he had lucked out and gotten the only nice janitor, but the staff as a whole wouldn't change the bedding often. Harley had thrown up several times in his bed and it had yet to be cleaned.
Through all the vomit, though, he knew it smelt better than some of the other patients' living situations, He was lucky, he had gotten the nice janitor. Janitors were assigned to different hallways, and his was nice. He had gotten the nice janitor.
Harley had been sent to Blacksburg around two years ago when his schizophrenia got the best of him. He hadn't meant to set fire to that building, and no one was killed or even severely hurt. he had thought that he was trying to help them. Blacksburg had done a number on him though, His thoughts were much faster and repetitive, and he often found himself repeating things. Blacksburg had done a number on him, because he couldn't remember most of his life before Blacksburg.
He learned to deal with it, though, because he had the nice janitor.
----------
---CHAPTER 2---
---LUNCH TIME---
The door opened to Harley's cell, and in stepped the person he looked most forward to seeing: Jonathan Mayers, a tall, skinny mess of a coyote. He was scraggly and dirt-colored, and had a hoarse voice that sounded much like a squeaky toy that was being choked, but he was the nicest person Harley had ever met.
"Lunchtime, kiddo!" he said, jingling his keys out of the cell to Harley's door. Harley's eyes lit-up when he saw the janitor.
"Really? i thought for a second i had lost the privilege for today, you're late!" he said, standing and smiling. He ran his hands back through his hair. What a mess, he thought. He was afraid to showers, so he always had Jonny tell the faculty Harley was hydrophobic and would have panic attacks in the shower, so he took him to shower at night. The truth, though, was that Harley had not bathed for around three weeks. His hair was ratty and had began to dread in places, and it was greasy. He smelt of his own vomit, and it was getting to where it could be noticed at a distance. Jonny cared for him just the same though.
"Harley, you know you actually have to take a shower at some point, or they'll put you on maximum security for rabies." he said, smirking. That statement from anyone else would have made Harley angry, but he cracked a small smile.
"I know, i know. I just..." he started, then got quiet. Jonny knew the words he was going to say before he finished the sentence.
"I know, bud. The other patients scare ya. but, they are just as afraid as you are." Jonny said, patting Harley's shoulder. Harley sighed.
"But what if one of them..." he started, and Jonny finished for him again.
"Harley, every patient in this area either doesn't know what sex is, or is terrified of it like you are. Those who aren't are in a totally different wing." he said trying to reassure Harley, who grinned.
"I guess i could tonight, then." Harley said, smiling some. He stepped out into the hallway with Jonny. the other patients had already went to the cafeteria to get their food, as if it was something new. Harley had the day's figured out. It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant spaghetti...or at least, something CALLED spaghetti.
Jonny smirked. "They're always so excited to get food." he said. Harley nodded.
"Like it's a reward..." he said, then stopped. He remembered it was pretty much a reward. you had to earn food. Act up, and you got sent to your room without lunch or dinner. He still couldn't believe they actually did that...
Jonny walked with Harley to the lunch line, where they both grabbed trays. harley narrowed his eyes and scraped a piece of something off his tray.
"Lucky me, i got the tray with yesterday's food on it too." Harley said loud enough to be heard by the cafeteria workers. Jonny bumped him.
"Be nice! the washing machine doesn't work well." he said, showing his teeth in a grin, making sure Harley knew he was sarcastic. Harley laughed. he went down the line and got the various foods slopped onto his tray. he thought back to high school near every day when this happened. In high school, he thought, you could put little wax sheets over your tray so your food didn't have to lay right on it. Little wax sheets kept the food from getting dirty.
Harley reached the end of the line and looked at Jonny, who hadn't gotten much. He got other food because he was a janitor; sinking to cafeteria food even makes a janitor look bad.
Harley took a seat at the table with the only other two patients he really interacted with. One was Roswell (just Roswell), a behemoth when it came to his height at just an inch short of seven foot, but lanky and scrawny. he never ate. He spoke only in third person and was as timid as a rabbit, startling just as easy too. For his height, he was a coward. The other was James Perkings, a neurotic rat who had been a patient for around six years. No one really knew what exactly was wrong with him. Most just thought he was spastic.
Harley smiled to the two. Jonny, Harley, Roswell and James all pretty much stayed together. They didn't really interact with the other patients much at all. Roswell was too shy, and James didn't talk well. Jonny stayed with these three because they were the ones he had grown attached to. The other patients were okay, but he actually enjoyed the company of those three. Harley just didn't like anyone else.
Roswell sniffed his food and cringed. Harley did the same, sticking out his tongue.
"This smells like yesterday's food reheated..." he said, repulsed. Roswell nodded.
"The spaghetti makes Rozzy's tummy hurt." he said, frowning. Jonny smirked.
"Well, Rozzy, i'll make sure i can getcha some fresh sheets if you get sick." Jonny said, patting the tall weasel on his shoulder. He didn't work on that hallway, but he made rounds to make sure the less cared for patients weren't being neglected. It had happened. James was eating voraciously at his food. He had been denied lunch for two days for not answering his janitor when he was asked why his sheets were dirty. He assumed it was just that he had been sleeping in them for weeks with no change, but he wasn't sure and didn't want to lie.
As lunchtime passed, Roswell overheard patients at another table discussing something strange and perked up his ears. They were discussing patients that had abruptly disappeared, and Roswell dropped his head. he had noticed people were disappearing, and it was making him sad. Jonny looked up in between bites of food.
"Rozzy? what's goin' on, buddy?"
Roswell shook his head. Anything even remotely upsetting was difficult for him to talk about.
"Rozzy...Rozzy hears people talking about the people that went away. The ones the doctors took away." he said, sniffling. Harley looked to Jonny.
"I noticed that..." he said, pushing his tray away. Jonny nodded.\
"The doctor's trying some new medicine on the most severe patients. It's some medicine that he himself formulated. I don't even know the name or what it does. he just says it's some sort of miracle drug." Jonny said. Harley thought on this for a second, then turned to Roswell.
"I doubt he'll use it on any of us." he said, grinning to reassure Roswell. Roswell smiled back. It had been two years and Roswell had never spoken of exactly why he had been insititutionalized. it was just assumed he never wanted to talk about. Harley was now wondering, though, and decided to ask, seeing as they were on a serious topic.
"Rozzy, why are you here?" he asked. Both James and Jonny jerked their heads to Harley, then looked to Roswell.
"Well..." Roswell began.
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