Hey, ah, anyone who's been reading and enjoying this, if you want, check out and almost-full synopsis here: http://www.writingforums.com/fiction/99821-post-your-synopsis-2.html. Post #25, by SparkyLT (which is my penname.) It's an 'almost-full' synopsis because I left off the end...because I don't know the end yet. So anyway, just thought I'd give you-all the link, enjoy if you want.
Perfect Insanity
- Thread starter LPNailz
- Start date
Next part, if anyone's interested. I've fallen off 'new posts'! >gasp< Short one this time, just chumming the waters a bit to see if I still have any fans. 
FOUR
Sarah’s mother maintains that she is just like her grandmother. Both her parents have black hair, where Sarah’s is blond, and her eyes are brown, though they have green and blue eyes. She is also shorter and thinner than her parents. When she was younger, she believed she was adopted, until her mother started describing her grandmother: petite, thick blond hair, brown eyes. And her temperament…
“Sarah, you really have entirely too much of your grandmother in you.” Sarah’s mother sighs. “I know you want to help the poor boy. I know he symbolizes everything you believe in. I know. But maybe you should back off this time.”
“Mom –.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. He sounds dangerous.”
“He hasn’t hurt me. I don’t think he will.”
Sarah has not, of course, told her mother about Sixty-six almost breaking her fingers.
“Sarah…I guess nothing I say is going to change your mind anyway. You have my support and love. For whatever it’s worth, that poor disturbed child you’re working with has my support and love too. I do feel sorry for him.”
Somehow, having her mother’s blessing makes the road ahead seem less rough. “Thanks, Mom.” Sarah says cheerfully.
Once Sarah gets off the phone with her mother, she immediately begins studying some of her old psychology books, planning for tomorrow. She needs to know more about Sixty-six’s childhood, what happened to him before he was committed to the asylum. She’ll have to ask Mrs. White – though the idea terrifies her – for his records.
It still frustrates Sarah that Jazmin made her come home. The tazer only knocked her out, she wasn’t hurt; she’s more concerned about Sixty-six, no matter what Jonas calls him. Demon-spawn and devil child…it’s no wonder Sixty-six went after him. It’s strange that he didn’t seem to really be angry, though. She flips irritably through one book, pushes it aside, and pulls another across the floor towards her. Maybe he’s in prolonged shock from something…they said he didn’t like fires, maybe – but he didn’t seem to mind my lighter. Hm…
FOUR
Sarah’s mother maintains that she is just like her grandmother. Both her parents have black hair, where Sarah’s is blond, and her eyes are brown, though they have green and blue eyes. She is also shorter and thinner than her parents. When she was younger, she believed she was adopted, until her mother started describing her grandmother: petite, thick blond hair, brown eyes. And her temperament…
“Sarah, you really have entirely too much of your grandmother in you.” Sarah’s mother sighs. “I know you want to help the poor boy. I know he symbolizes everything you believe in. I know. But maybe you should back off this time.”
“Mom –.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. He sounds dangerous.”
“He hasn’t hurt me. I don’t think he will.”
Sarah has not, of course, told her mother about Sixty-six almost breaking her fingers.
“Sarah…I guess nothing I say is going to change your mind anyway. You have my support and love. For whatever it’s worth, that poor disturbed child you’re working with has my support and love too. I do feel sorry for him.”
Somehow, having her mother’s blessing makes the road ahead seem less rough. “Thanks, Mom.” Sarah says cheerfully.
Once Sarah gets off the phone with her mother, she immediately begins studying some of her old psychology books, planning for tomorrow. She needs to know more about Sixty-six’s childhood, what happened to him before he was committed to the asylum. She’ll have to ask Mrs. White – though the idea terrifies her – for his records.
It still frustrates Sarah that Jazmin made her come home. The tazer only knocked her out, she wasn’t hurt; she’s more concerned about Sixty-six, no matter what Jonas calls him. Demon-spawn and devil child…it’s no wonder Sixty-six went after him. It’s strange that he didn’t seem to really be angry, though. She flips irritably through one book, pushes it aside, and pulls another across the floor towards her. Maybe he’s in prolonged shock from something…they said he didn’t like fires, maybe – but he didn’t seem to mind my lighter. Hm…
Ravynlee
New member
I like Jazmin's statement at the end of 3, sent an ominous chill up my proverbial spine, so that was well done.
One thing I have to mention, maybe it's deliberate, maybe not, but these later posts are begining to read like 'screenplays' whereas the start was more literary, like a story. Am not sure if it's intentional, especially this later section (4) but it's what I picked up on anyway. It also might be worth formatting text that illustrates a character's inner monologue, purely to deviate attention, because there was a part in 3 specifially before the tazer episode when Sarah was defending 66 against Wall and crew that I could tell we had inner monolgue mixed with open dialog, and it can get confusing first read over. Just a thought. If you decided to forgo format, say 'that's what you think,' she frowned to herself or something equally as obvious (okay bad example, but hopefully you get what I mean).
Other than that am still enjoying this, though yes the latest update was sadly too short for my likings I have a voracious appetite for stories here, as you well know by now. But having said that I enjoy this character's premise (66) and wonder what Sarah will uncover about his true nature... nice work.
One thing I have to mention, maybe it's deliberate, maybe not, but these later posts are begining to read like 'screenplays' whereas the start was more literary, like a story. Am not sure if it's intentional, especially this later section (4) but it's what I picked up on anyway. It also might be worth formatting text that illustrates a character's inner monologue, purely to deviate attention, because there was a part in 3 specifially before the tazer episode when Sarah was defending 66 against Wall and crew that I could tell we had inner monolgue mixed with open dialog, and it can get confusing first read over. Just a thought. If you decided to forgo format, say 'that's what you think,' she frowned to herself or something equally as obvious (okay bad example, but hopefully you get what I mean).
Other than that am still enjoying this, though yes the latest update was sadly too short for my likings
I have a voracious appetite for stories here, as you well know by now. But having said that I enjoy this character's premise (66) and wonder what Sarah will uncover about his true nature... nice work.Hm...you may have something about the dialouge. I tend to get carried away with dialouge, it's so easy to type, and deep down I'm an incredibly lazy person. Plus, I've been writing more screenplay-ish stuff for a while now, and I've become strangely uncomfortable with regular format...
Thanks for reading, more a bit later. And if I do modify the dialouge any, I'll post the changes.
Thanks for reading, more a bit later. And if I do modify the dialouge any, I'll post the changes.
Mm, I had a hard time breaking this into smaller peices, so sorry if the ending is a little awkward. Also, if you see anything that should be in italics, and isn't it probably is, but in copying it I lose the foramtting. Just thought I warn ya. Enjoy
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A few hours later Sarah has fallen asleep among her old textbooks. She sleeps dreamlessly until the next morning, when her alarm clock radio wakes her up with Three Day’s Grace’s “Never Too Late.” Content that she won’t be too late, because of setting the alarm earlier, Sarah takes her time getting ready to leave. Then the thought of Sixty-six closed in the silent dark a moment longer than necessary rushes her.
At the asylum’s door, she cringes at the thought of asking Mrs. White for Sixty-six’s medical records, but takes a steadying breath and walks in.
Strangely, though, Mrs. White is nowhere to be found. No one is in the room the other caregivers met Sarah in the day before, so she walks on alone. It takes her a second to remember the code, but then she recalls the pattern: 234, 256, 278, 2910.
Walking into the large white common room, Sarah sees Wallace sitting in the same corner, this time drinking coffee out of a powder-blue mug, engrossed in the morning paper. Rachel, the quiet, black-haired caregiver with glasses, sits across from him with a pencil, maybe doing the crossword puzzle or word search. When neither seems to notice her arrival, she clears her throat noisily. Rachel throws down her pencil and half-stands before looking; then she freezes.
“Oh.” She says, surprised. “I – I was expecting Jonas. Usually he’s the first to get here.”
“After you, that is. And me.” Wallace comments absently, folding his paper. Then, apparently only just realizing Sarah is in the room, he concernedly adds, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Sarah responds. “And better once you let me bring Sixty-six out.”
“New girl –.”
“Oh, really, Wallace, she’s got a name.” Rachel sighs, and to Sarah, says, “He called me ‘new girl’ for weeks.”
“Sarah, then.” Wallace corrects himself, annoyed. “Listen, you know I’m not allowed –.”
“I’ll have him back in his room by the time the others bring the Innocents out.” Sarah pleads. “And without Jonas here to rile him up…”
Wallace scowls.
“One condition.” He says.
He leads Sarah over to a specific table. Its top is something like a chain-link fence, with a pair of hand cuffs running through the links. He bangs the metal for emphasis.
“He stays hooked to this.” He says seriously. “I’m not having you say the wrong thing and him go psycho all over again. Clear, hm?”
Sarah nods. A small concession is worth getting Sixty-six out of the dark. She starts back to get him, and Rachel falls into step with her.
“I get here early to visit my aunt.” She explains, before Sarah can ask. “Wallace makes me wait until someone else is here to bring her out of her room, but I get here early anyway.”
“You’re comfortable having your aunt out with Sixty-six…?”
“Well, no.” She admits. “I’ll just go into her room with her for a little while. Once the others are here, and you put him away, I’ll bring her out.”
Broodingly, Sarah asks, “Why are you all so scared of him? He seems…almost seems just as scared of us.”
“He terrifies me.” Rachel confesses. “His eyes are just so – hollow. Empty. But, I noticed something strange, yesterday, when…well, after he attacked Jonas. He was blank when he was choking him like that, but after, when Wallace had the tazer on him. It looked like he started to move, and then stopped, for some reason.”
Sarah nods. “I know.”
“But…after you got hit. He was quiet, and you just shouted once before it knocked you out. But then he…he looked at you and just started screaming, such an awful sound. I don’t know how he was still conscious anyway. I thought, he thinks she’s dead, but it’s, well, sort of uncharacteristic for him to care. But he didn’t stop until Wallace’s men ran in and held him down for Jazmin to sedate him.”
“They drugged him?” Sarah growls.
“Be fair, they had no choice. They were unnecessarily rough with him, though.” She mutters. “They didn’t have to beat him. He wasn’t really fighting them.”
“They beat him?”
“Not – not hard. He was upset, but the fight had really gone out of him. I think –.” She breaks off.
“What?”
“Well, I don’t really know, it just seemed to me like he didn’t want them to move him away from you.” Rachel shrugs, confused. “Anyway, this is where we part ways.” She motions down Row 12. “My aunt’s down here. Patient 531, better know as Betty.”
Before she walks off, Sarah calls after her, “Wait, Rachel – how would I find out Sixty-six’s name?”
“You’d have to ask Mrs. White.” She says over her shoulder. “She’s out sick today, though, Wallace told me. I could probably find his files, if you want – she’s a stickler for organization – before we leave. If there’s not any more tazer accidents, that is.”
Sarah laughs and thanks her, and heads down Row 13. At Sixty-six’s door, she wonders briefly what condition she’ll find him in. She remembers Jazmin saying he was being ‘taken care of,’ but if Rachel says they beat him…
The room is dark again, but when she flicks the light switch, a single bulb flickers to life, illuminating the little room with a sickly yellow light. Sixty-six is curled up on his side on the bed, eyes open but dim. He doesn’t seem to register the light; his pupils stay dilated. With a burst of frustration, Sarah realizes that he’s still drugged. Also, a trickle of blood has dried running out of his mouth. In her anger, Sarah hopes for Wallace’s sake that Sixty-six only bit his tongue or something.
“Sixty-six.” She closes the door and steps quietly over to his bed. “Sixty-six?”
She sits down softly next to him, noticing the new cuffs that lock his wrists together, and gently touches his shoulder. After a delay, his eyes jerk towards her. He blinks a few times, also jerkily. His throat moves as though he’s trying to speak, but all that comes out is a faint, tiny moan. Sighing, Sarah reaches down to help him up into a sitting position next to her. He leans against her, arms circling her shoulders, and she realizes she can feel his ribs distinctly under the torn white shirt.
Just as she’s making a mental note to somehow make sure he gets enough to eat, his whole body heaves, and he leans over the edge of the bed just in time to begin throwing up. Sarah steadies him with one hand while sympathetically stroking his black hair with the other.
“At least you’re getting the drugs out of your system.” She murmurs. When he is able to stop for a moment and looks over at her guiltily, she lightly adds, “Besides, if the food in here is anything like hospital food, it’s better off on the floor.”
The joke is probably lost on him, but he must understand the tone; he smiles weakly before coughing more of the thick gray liquid – mixed with a little of what looks like blood – onto the stained, previously-white floor. He leans on her again, wearily, and she automatically puts her arms around him. The cuffs jangle when he wipes his mouth on a torn sleeve, as though trying to remind her where she is, but all they do is annoy her.
Sarah is satisfied to see a little focus back into his eyes, though they are half-closed and tired. She can only think: if Jazmin or Rachel could see him like this, would they still be so terrified of him? Would they be so terrified of a sick, drugged…little boy?
“My mother sent you her love and support,” Sarah says, mainly just to say something, resisting the urge to rock him back and forth like a baby. “Though I don’t suppose you felt it while they were drugging you up. I wonder if they pumped it straight into you, or if they hid it in the food? And I wonder who made the decision…Jazmin, or Wallace maybe?” She sighs, and gives into her urge. Sixty-six makes a small, contented sound. Sarah is sure that if he were a cat, he would be purring.
“I guess I’m not taking you out to the common area any time soon.” She comments, quietly because his breathing has evened out, and he is probably falling asleep. “You need rest, not sedatives.” More to herself, she continues, “And I shouldn’t disturb you. Besides, it’s not fair for me to devote all my time to one person.”
But when she tries to gently ease him back down, he wakes and curls a hand in her camouflage cargo pants, making a tiny, plaintive noise.
“Oh, fine then.” She murmurs, not really minding. Under her breath, she sighs, “Poor boy…”
Considering his history, Sixty-six is amazingly sweet. It’s odd that he can be like a small child alone with me, but when Jonas started provoking him, he instantly became an unfeeling, cold killer. The abruptness of the change was almost as terrifying as what the change was to.
“Sister…?”
Sarah looks down at Sixty-six, confused, not realizing at first that he spoke. He is half-asleep still, but looking up at her questioningly.
“Sister? Um…” Guessing at his question, she says, “I’m…not a nun.”
He shakes his head drowsily. “Brother…sister?”
“No. I’m an only child.” When he shakes his head again, she says, “I don’t know what you’re asking, Sixty-six. I’m sorry.”
He sighs deeply, slipping back into sleep.
Sarah continues rocking him until the motion makes her back hurt, and when she tries to lay him down this time, he is in too deep a sleep to object. Skirting around the gray sludge that, disturbingly, came out of a human being, Sarah leaves the room, making sure not to cut the light off.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A few hours later Sarah has fallen asleep among her old textbooks. She sleeps dreamlessly until the next morning, when her alarm clock radio wakes her up with Three Day’s Grace’s “Never Too Late.” Content that she won’t be too late, because of setting the alarm earlier, Sarah takes her time getting ready to leave. Then the thought of Sixty-six closed in the silent dark a moment longer than necessary rushes her.
At the asylum’s door, she cringes at the thought of asking Mrs. White for Sixty-six’s medical records, but takes a steadying breath and walks in.
Strangely, though, Mrs. White is nowhere to be found. No one is in the room the other caregivers met Sarah in the day before, so she walks on alone. It takes her a second to remember the code, but then she recalls the pattern: 234, 256, 278, 2910.
Walking into the large white common room, Sarah sees Wallace sitting in the same corner, this time drinking coffee out of a powder-blue mug, engrossed in the morning paper. Rachel, the quiet, black-haired caregiver with glasses, sits across from him with a pencil, maybe doing the crossword puzzle or word search. When neither seems to notice her arrival, she clears her throat noisily. Rachel throws down her pencil and half-stands before looking; then she freezes.
“Oh.” She says, surprised. “I – I was expecting Jonas. Usually he’s the first to get here.”
“After you, that is. And me.” Wallace comments absently, folding his paper. Then, apparently only just realizing Sarah is in the room, he concernedly adds, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Sarah responds. “And better once you let me bring Sixty-six out.”
“New girl –.”
“Oh, really, Wallace, she’s got a name.” Rachel sighs, and to Sarah, says, “He called me ‘new girl’ for weeks.”
“Sarah, then.” Wallace corrects himself, annoyed. “Listen, you know I’m not allowed –.”
“I’ll have him back in his room by the time the others bring the Innocents out.” Sarah pleads. “And without Jonas here to rile him up…”
Wallace scowls.
“One condition.” He says.
He leads Sarah over to a specific table. Its top is something like a chain-link fence, with a pair of hand cuffs running through the links. He bangs the metal for emphasis.
“He stays hooked to this.” He says seriously. “I’m not having you say the wrong thing and him go psycho all over again. Clear, hm?”
Sarah nods. A small concession is worth getting Sixty-six out of the dark. She starts back to get him, and Rachel falls into step with her.
“I get here early to visit my aunt.” She explains, before Sarah can ask. “Wallace makes me wait until someone else is here to bring her out of her room, but I get here early anyway.”
“You’re comfortable having your aunt out with Sixty-six…?”
“Well, no.” She admits. “I’ll just go into her room with her for a little while. Once the others are here, and you put him away, I’ll bring her out.”
Broodingly, Sarah asks, “Why are you all so scared of him? He seems…almost seems just as scared of us.”
“He terrifies me.” Rachel confesses. “His eyes are just so – hollow. Empty. But, I noticed something strange, yesterday, when…well, after he attacked Jonas. He was blank when he was choking him like that, but after, when Wallace had the tazer on him. It looked like he started to move, and then stopped, for some reason.”
Sarah nods. “I know.”
“But…after you got hit. He was quiet, and you just shouted once before it knocked you out. But then he…he looked at you and just started screaming, such an awful sound. I don’t know how he was still conscious anyway. I thought, he thinks she’s dead, but it’s, well, sort of uncharacteristic for him to care. But he didn’t stop until Wallace’s men ran in and held him down for Jazmin to sedate him.”
“They drugged him?” Sarah growls.
“Be fair, they had no choice. They were unnecessarily rough with him, though.” She mutters. “They didn’t have to beat him. He wasn’t really fighting them.”
“They beat him?”
“Not – not hard. He was upset, but the fight had really gone out of him. I think –.” She breaks off.
“What?”
“Well, I don’t really know, it just seemed to me like he didn’t want them to move him away from you.” Rachel shrugs, confused. “Anyway, this is where we part ways.” She motions down Row 12. “My aunt’s down here. Patient 531, better know as Betty.”
Before she walks off, Sarah calls after her, “Wait, Rachel – how would I find out Sixty-six’s name?”
“You’d have to ask Mrs. White.” She says over her shoulder. “She’s out sick today, though, Wallace told me. I could probably find his files, if you want – she’s a stickler for organization – before we leave. If there’s not any more tazer accidents, that is.”
Sarah laughs and thanks her, and heads down Row 13. At Sixty-six’s door, she wonders briefly what condition she’ll find him in. She remembers Jazmin saying he was being ‘taken care of,’ but if Rachel says they beat him…
The room is dark again, but when she flicks the light switch, a single bulb flickers to life, illuminating the little room with a sickly yellow light. Sixty-six is curled up on his side on the bed, eyes open but dim. He doesn’t seem to register the light; his pupils stay dilated. With a burst of frustration, Sarah realizes that he’s still drugged. Also, a trickle of blood has dried running out of his mouth. In her anger, Sarah hopes for Wallace’s sake that Sixty-six only bit his tongue or something.
“Sixty-six.” She closes the door and steps quietly over to his bed. “Sixty-six?”
She sits down softly next to him, noticing the new cuffs that lock his wrists together, and gently touches his shoulder. After a delay, his eyes jerk towards her. He blinks a few times, also jerkily. His throat moves as though he’s trying to speak, but all that comes out is a faint, tiny moan. Sighing, Sarah reaches down to help him up into a sitting position next to her. He leans against her, arms circling her shoulders, and she realizes she can feel his ribs distinctly under the torn white shirt.
Just as she’s making a mental note to somehow make sure he gets enough to eat, his whole body heaves, and he leans over the edge of the bed just in time to begin throwing up. Sarah steadies him with one hand while sympathetically stroking his black hair with the other.
“At least you’re getting the drugs out of your system.” She murmurs. When he is able to stop for a moment and looks over at her guiltily, she lightly adds, “Besides, if the food in here is anything like hospital food, it’s better off on the floor.”
The joke is probably lost on him, but he must understand the tone; he smiles weakly before coughing more of the thick gray liquid – mixed with a little of what looks like blood – onto the stained, previously-white floor. He leans on her again, wearily, and she automatically puts her arms around him. The cuffs jangle when he wipes his mouth on a torn sleeve, as though trying to remind her where she is, but all they do is annoy her.
Sarah is satisfied to see a little focus back into his eyes, though they are half-closed and tired. She can only think: if Jazmin or Rachel could see him like this, would they still be so terrified of him? Would they be so terrified of a sick, drugged…little boy?
“My mother sent you her love and support,” Sarah says, mainly just to say something, resisting the urge to rock him back and forth like a baby. “Though I don’t suppose you felt it while they were drugging you up. I wonder if they pumped it straight into you, or if they hid it in the food? And I wonder who made the decision…Jazmin, or Wallace maybe?” She sighs, and gives into her urge. Sixty-six makes a small, contented sound. Sarah is sure that if he were a cat, he would be purring.
“I guess I’m not taking you out to the common area any time soon.” She comments, quietly because his breathing has evened out, and he is probably falling asleep. “You need rest, not sedatives.” More to herself, she continues, “And I shouldn’t disturb you. Besides, it’s not fair for me to devote all my time to one person.”
But when she tries to gently ease him back down, he wakes and curls a hand in her camouflage cargo pants, making a tiny, plaintive noise.
“Oh, fine then.” She murmurs, not really minding. Under her breath, she sighs, “Poor boy…”
Considering his history, Sixty-six is amazingly sweet. It’s odd that he can be like a small child alone with me, but when Jonas started provoking him, he instantly became an unfeeling, cold killer. The abruptness of the change was almost as terrifying as what the change was to.
“Sister…?”
Sarah looks down at Sixty-six, confused, not realizing at first that he spoke. He is half-asleep still, but looking up at her questioningly.
“Sister? Um…” Guessing at his question, she says, “I’m…not a nun.”
He shakes his head drowsily. “Brother…sister?”
“No. I’m an only child.” When he shakes his head again, she says, “I don’t know what you’re asking, Sixty-six. I’m sorry.”
He sighs deeply, slipping back into sleep.
Sarah continues rocking him until the motion makes her back hurt, and when she tries to lay him down this time, he is in too deep a sleep to object. Skirting around the gray sludge that, disturbingly, came out of a human being, Sarah leaves the room, making sure not to cut the light off.