The Puppeteer Chronicles - The Patient

        Have I insulted you in some way, Sir, that you would deem me quite mad?

        No! not mad, I am quite composed, if you were truly looking at me. Your eyes divulge your disbelief; buy my eyes, yes! it is my eyes that validate my sanity. I care not what the doctors “know of me, or what the nurses “see” when they gaze upon my pitiful state. The well do not need a doctor, and I am far from ill.

         They are not so smart as to miss it! They do not look into my eyes; however, you, sir, you have the ability to peer deeper into my eyes than any of them ever could, and this I implore you to do now.

         These red eyes, vextedly set, are not the eyes of a mad-man, but rather a gateway into the methodical mind of a genius.

         No man could plan as I have! I have taken much care to plan as unmistakable. I shall reveal the entirety of my plan to you; there is little you could do now to stop me, as it were. Although, I doubt you will be able to appreciate my urgency.

         Sadly, there is one whose voice deteriorates my very ability to reason. I must confront him; then he MUST die! For the sake of my own sanity, I must reckon with this finality.

         I have not seen his face in some years, and yet his voice, his voice is all I hear. I hear it amidst the noise and in the silence of the darkest hour. I hear it in my sleep and in my waking. I even began to know how the voice would speak before it spoke.  It is a voice like I had never before heard, nor have I heard from any other. A hideous voice it is…

         This very contrivance is the reason for my current predicament. He has pushed me to action. Something must be done to silence his wretched voice. Although, for my own sake, I must plot in the utmost secrecy.

         They watch me day and night. I must masque my every action. I am even secretive about my secretivity. Those here would not listen to me that I am very much composed, and for this reason I began to play into their notions of insanity and became an obedient patient. I acted as the expected – and did not fight back. I played my part exquisitely.

         I remind you that I am quite composed. If I were not, I am quite convinced that I would sound mad to you.

         Enough of that. I have quite sufficiently proven my point. To the matter of the voice… I have taken much care to plan thoroughly.

         I shall first have to find the source of the voice; although, I believe I have found him.

         Next, it will be quite pressing that I confront him most secretly.

         The most delicate matter of course will be in overcoming the One-Who-Speaks.

         Then the final matter will be to commit the deed. He MUST die!

         This would be most damned from the start, if I were not so composed; however, I am composed, and have never been so sure of anything before.

         Tonight, I will confront him tonight. I must find a way to look into his eyes as he breathes his last. I want to see the life leave his eyes. I have prepared a special necklace for him. Yes, I am prepared to strangle him. He must suffocate, as I have been suffocated.

        The time has come, and the time for swift action is upon me.          He stands on the chair now.

        I find great pleasure in his voice now,            for I know these words will be his last!

        I must ever so carefully slip his noose around his neck,          as I knock the chair from below him.

                                       Shhh… the time is now! I hear the raven beckon.

* * * *

         

**The chair moves, and the bed-sheet tightens. The faint sounds of a man struggling against himself were heard by no one. Only a man left alone with his demons, to consider the nearing darkness with one prayer**

      Oh, dear God in heaven, I plead with my dying breath that you remember me now… I have spent my existence hating your voice, hating your drawing me to yourself… please, LORD, do not damn my soul. Speak to me once more… Amen

**The nurse found the patient’s body hanging from the bars of the high window. She called the undertaker**

         “Prepare a slab; we lost the patient… The poor fellow hung himself before the mirror. And I was so sure we were close to breaking through his schizophrenia.”