Thursday, 4 June 2015

The diary of a schizophrenic

So today, I don't know what struck me but I suddenly wanted to write this short, thriller about a dysfunctional man. It was originally mean for my college magazine but I decided to put it up here as well. I hope its liked by whoever reads it and please leave your comments to tell me how it was. Suggestions and constructive criticism would be very appreciated. Also, you could leave a comment if you want me to blog about any other topic in particular. Thank you!

                                        THE DIARY OF A SCHIZOPHRENIC:

I walked into the gloomy asylum, I could not believe that it was just two months ago that I had gotten married to a beautiful lady.

 Her skin like white marble and her cheeks would put roses to shame. How she roamed around my entire mansion, singing as she dusted the old place. We were happy in our own world, just the two of us. I made her leave her job when we married, I could not think to part ways with her. I told her we have enough to survive. I just needed her to be with me. She agreed of course, that was her love.

However, she was the exact opposite of what I was. She liked to go out in the sun and make small talk with the neighbours, I on the other hand, could not quite grasp why one would want to leave the confines of the most comfortable bed. I always thought she was an overly clean individual, she thought I was very unclean. If she could help it, she would throw me out of my own house one day. I knew it was a joke, she had a very good sense of humour. 

Her utterly romantic gazes would become increasingly irritating as she complained I was not romantic enough. At times, she would even act out, telling me how I could not form the right words. But, it was all fun and play. She had a very good sense of humour.

I never complained at her temper tantrums when she threw various things at me for being worried about her safety. The world was not a safe place, she should not be so carefree. She often joked to her friends and family about how I was overprotective when they whined about her not coming to meet them. After all, she had a very good sense of humour. She told them that I was a reserved soul and she respected that. She would smile warmly at me and rarely would anything tug at my heart, but her smile sometimes did.

But one day, she went out of the mansion. I had told her the world was a cruel place. When she came back, things were not the same. We often argued bitterly, she called me hurtful things and told me she wanted to leave me. But I loved her too much! I could not let her go! She became crazy, I suspected she was mentally ill! Something violently hit me. I retaliated. Maybe the red I saw that day was brighter than the colour of her cheeks.

I winced at the memory and saw a glass window forming in front of me. Memories did peculiar things to you. I never realized how my feet has brought me to her. Two rapt knocks came on the glass window which brought my attention to it. I was here to see my beloved, Sandra, her name escaped my chapped lips.

I peered into the glass window, eager to see her. A vaguely familiar face stared back at me but it was not Sandra.

“Where is Sandra? Who are you?” I asked, confused.

The female shook her head in exasperation and pushed open the metal door which was beside the glass window. I was intimidated by the fact that the asylum allowed crazy people to just open the doors and walk around like this.

“You need to come with me,” she said sternly.

“Why? Where is Sandra?” I asked nervously. Somehow, I was scared of this lady. I did not know why. She reckoned me to follow her mutely.

I listened to her and followed her, maybe she would lead me to Sandra. She walked behind me, like how they would walk behind a prisoner. My legs were becoming increasingly heavy, like I knew bad news was coming.

I entered a room. It was filled with a big chair with constraints. I don’t know why I turned to run but became very relaxed after I felt a prick on my arms. My eyes felt heavy.

I woke up to see a uniformed individual in front of me. “He has come to,” he announced.
Confused, I realized I was bound to the big chair. Sandra. What was happening?

“Where did you hide her body?” The uniformed one asked, leaning towards me. His breath was hot on my face. I cringed uncomfortably. 

Flashes of red filled my head. Her cheeks were so red.

“Where did you hide her?” He punched me.

Blood. Her cheeks were so red.

I smiled. Sandra had done this. I knew she was punishing me for putting her in this asylum.

“Tell me!”

More blood.


Hysterical laughter escaped my lips. One more of her typical jokes. I loved her jokes. My laughter filled the entire room. After all, she had a very good sense of humour.