December 6, 2010
By madm0e BRONZE, Tucson, Arizona
madm0e BRONZE, Tucson, Arizona
4 articles 0 photos 28 comments

Favorite Quote:
People say I have no heart, that is not true, I have the heart of a small child. It's in a jar on my desk. -Stephen King

He remembered it all so clearly, it was an easy memory for him to call back…almost too easy. He remembered how his day started, thinking that it was just another day. He remembered the message he got and how his sister reacted…the usual tears. He remembered sharing the news and wishing that the circumstances were less grim perhaps? He remembered the random violent outbursts that occurred from his sister. Typical. That morning, he was thinking back to his junior year, thinking of his forensics class, a certain topic in particular. The stages of death, minutes before the text message. He also remembered that everyone copes differently. Some cry, some smoke, some eat to excess…all he would do is listen to music. He also remembered the first day he was there. Nothing but silence. Horribly thick silence. It was as if he could feel it in the room. He tried (on far too many occasions) to break this silence, but to no avail. He also remembered why he went in the first place. Why he was so damned eager to go. Paying respects was the secondary reason. His primary reason was to see a man cry. A particular man, one whom he had loathed for many years, with a seven year grudge and counting. Pitiful, Bitter tears descending from this man’s eyes. It was a beautiful sight, practically euphoric. He watched in silence, stricken with awe and excitement. On the outside he remained cool and composed, but internally, he was laughing. That was all he could hear. Dying of laughter in fact, at one point he almost lost it. Feigning this laughter with a brief cough. Then he was silent, as usual.

It still surprised him how he could re-call every detail perfectly. Down to the specks of dust on the seats. He remembered the looks he was constantly getting. He was unable to shed tears. He always registered emotions as disgusting. Something that belong to the weak. He remembered waiting in line, envisioning his hands wrapping around a man's neck. He could feel it, he could feel his nails pressing into skin. He could hear the man gasping, trying to take in shocked gasps of air. He saw the man collapse to the ground, and then he heard laughing, but not from him. He heard the sound of a mad-man, which was certainly not him. Then everything was gone, he was standing back in line behind the man. He played out his little fantasy scenario every 30 minutes to pass the time. Keeping his face expressionless, which was a talent of sorts.

When the service was over, he was outside, trying his best to make small talk. Engraving every detail into his mind. The sidewalk with its perpetual cracks, the leaves on the trees were fascinating to him. The air tasted crisp, leaving a delicate bitter-sweet taste in his mouth. He saw gales of light streaming through the holes in the leaves. He remembered everything, but the service itself was a distant memory. Everything was drowned out, the voices turned into distant mumbles. He could have been miles away, in some other dimension. He was in a trance, embracing the surroundings, embracing his euphoric state. He started to tremble, he had to grasp a pole to stop his legs from buckling. If he collapsed he wouldn't have noticed, but he would have taken the time to look at the sky. He even counted the clouds, 19 of them. Without warning, he was viscously pulled out of his dream by a sound. He tried to drown it out, it was the man in line again. "How are you feeling...son?"
Once again keeping his face cool and composed he uttered out "I feel fine."

The author's comments:
I always wondered what the internal thoughts of a madman would be...

Similar Articles


This article has 1 comment.

madm0e BRONZE said...
on Dec. 13 2010 at 9:46 am
madm0e BRONZE, Tucson, Arizona
4 articles 0 photos 28 comments

Favorite Quote:
People say I have no heart, that is not true, I have the heart of a small child. It's in a jar on my desk. -Stephen King

Can someone please tell me why the quotes don't show up as ""?



MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!