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 Post subject: Interview with a Monster
PostPosted: Tue Feb 02, 2010 6:53 pm 
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Joined: Sat Feb 24, 2007 12:19 am
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The dimly lit room of the asylum did little to sooth his rattled soul. Time had no meaning for him, and he did not bother keeping track of its steady flow. The jacket that was standard for all other inmates was not wrapped around his body, knowing such a simple restraint would not be enough to contain him. Instead he hung from a large beam by chains. It was demanded by the boy, as well as a harness to keep his body firmly in place. There were no windows in the room, no candle, no light at all save from the glow given off by spirits of the dead that lit his room like a Christmas special.

The room was full of dead souls who had come to comfort the young man in his imprisoned state. They were drawn to him and his depression, pulled to him in case they were needed. More than that they wanted to help him, be it to escape or to endure the hell he had again walked into willingly. He could not trust himself, could not risk keeping locked the monster he knew he was deep inside him. He had broken into the asylum and killed three guards before he even demanded to be imprisoned. To be chained up so that he could not even move and to be denied food and water. His body could now survive off of spiritual energy and food and drink would only provide waste that he did not want to deal with; imprisonment for life would be bad enough without the smell and shame of soiling himself.

He did not hang in his solitude for long, for soon came a knock on the door of his cell. It was simply formality as without a word from the boy the door slid open. Entering the room now, completely unarmed and with no guards, was the asylum’s warden. A tall, slender, well dressed man with glasses. His hair was a dark brown, much like what Scott’s once was, and his face bore a quite serious look. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and sat down in front of Scott.
His gaze danced around the room at the multitude of spirits in the room. His gaze then turned to the spiritualist before he pushed his glasses back up with his pointer and middle finger. “So you’re a spiritualist? That’s what these floating orbs are correct? I’ve read about them quite a bit but never had the chance to see one.” Scott remained silent. “The four color represent the four classes of spirit; Strength, Speed, Agility, and Stealth. Well I suppose the fourth has no distinct color but I’m sure you get the meaning.”

Scott remained silent, yet held his head up to look the man in the eyes. The reflecting light and the man’s glasses made this no easy task. The man’s eyes felt as if they were probing him, trying to get into his mind and see the reason to his actions. He was annoyed that he was being analyzed, but at least this would cut down the need of formalities in conversation.

“It was my understanding that spirits don’t last long in their physical form.” The warden again broke the silence. “Yet you’re room has never stopped glowing since you were placed here. You must have a great deal of spirits with you and an even greater power to feed them with.”
“They are drawn to my current plight.” Scott finally spoke to the warden.
“You broke in and demanded these precise holdings. You are in no condition you did not willingly accept so what plight do you feel you’re in?”

Those words struck a cord, emotions of regret flushed to the surface and a beaten look expressed just how right the warden was when he said; ‘willingly accept’. These looks did not go unnoticed by the warden. He instantly took in the meaning; Scott did not refer to his imprisonment, but some other trick he had willingly accepted. The silence would drag out until the warden again broke it.

“Regardless, you admitted yourself and I can see you have quite a many issues. I shall make time in my schedule to meet with you myself twice a week. You will also be given one of my best doctors to meet with you every other day.”
“I do not require such consoling, just holdings.”
“I’m sorry my friend but even a prison is a house of corrections. Surely you don’t want to be stuck pinned up like that for the rest of your life do you?”
“Whatever it takes.” He says bearing determined eyes locked on to his opponents.
“Well then.” The warden said while getting up and placing the chair back where it was. “I will just stop by every few days to see how you are doing.” He turned back to the prisoner. “You know I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the younger female doctors did the same.” The warden looked over Scott, making sure that his gaze was clearly at his deformities. “Good looking guy like you.” He paused. “How could they stay away?”

He walked away, leaving Scott to his own devices for the rest of the night. As he opened the door he heard Scott call out to him. “Good day warden.” As the door slowly closed the warden turned back to look down the spiritualist.

“Call me James.”

_________________
Hubris of Humanity


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