Monday, February 6, 2017
Narrative - One Flew Over the Cuckoo\'s Nest
I step bring out onto the gloomy courts. Above me atomic number 18 the caged windows of the crumbling building, entrapping the poor, helpless senses. Above me, I essay the grey clouds and exanimate trees, whose leaves would rustle in the c hoar, cooling wind, telling us close to the hauntings it has jutn in the asylum, if only it werent exanimate . Above me I see the miracle of life. A squirrel, a fiddling critter but possessing more independence and life than every soul in the asylum. It is fearlessly tally across the barbed wire, peradventure sensing the presence of a a hawk, peering into it, peering into its mind, wanting to submit control of it. It scatters scantyly from the artful grasp of the monster, just in the nick of time.\nI call attention a towering man, private from the group, Chief, I think his arrive at is. He is gazing through the contest staring at the patients embarkation the bus, like he is attempt to find light at the end of the tunnel , obser vation the large black and yellowed bee flying away, being big . In reality bees atomic number 18 not really free. Their purpose is to serve its queen, unruffled to only its hive. Heck, sounds similar to this asylum, excluding the occurrence that the queen is more of a bitch dictator than a humble leader. Chief has his fortify folded, I perceive his apprehension, weirdo under my skin, giving me goosebumps . He is wanting a bar between himself and others. He is resisting something, I know it . Ever play this game Chief? I ask. Come on I will show you, An old Indian game. I guide him to the hoops, placing my hand on his back wanting to still his empty shell. Put the freak in the hole I tell him. I see that his expression is blank, but his panorama is telling a atomic number 19 stories. Thats your spot right there, dont move. Now, way out the ball. He appears hesitant. He gently wraps his overwhelming work force around the ball, his hands as gentle as a kittens paw. Now lift your accouterments up. Up! I shout. The obligate is scruti...
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