A Scream of Madness

The SCREAM tore through the silence of the night, ghoulishly disguised, with a sprinkling of fiendish laughter that echoed in every darkened corner of the house; menacing the mind with an image of a diabolic serpent: with its large, red gleeful eyes, its fangs alive with blood, hungrily tearing into the carcass of a human being.
The scream becomes a blood-curdling siren that rouses Mother out of a deep sleep. She bounces out of bed, runs down two flights of stairs on her bare feet, and slams her body against the door to my rooms on the first floor. She hears my nasal breathing as the door closes behind her.
AWho is there?@ I awake with a start as beads of perspiration roll down the back of my neck.
AIt=s Mom, darling. Are you all right?@
I turn on the bedside lamp. Brightness radiates to every corner of the room, and touches Mom’s face as I rub the sleep out of my eyes.
AWhat=s the matter, Mom?@
AI heard you scream.@ She presses her warm hand on my brow.
AI did? When?@ Up to that moment, I have been deep in sleep and I definitely did not scream.
AJust now.@ She cups my face in her hands and kisses my cheek.
AI didn=t.@ I said without enthusiasm.
Mother sits on the edge of my bed. She runs her hand on my forehead again. There are lines of worry under her eyes. I reach up and hug her.
ADid you have another nightmare?@ She asks quietly.
AI must have because you’re here. I=m sorry I woke you up.@
ANo, there=s no need to apologize. But we have to do something about your nightmares.@
AI don=t remember screaming, though.@ I want her to believe me.
AYou did and it=s getting weirder each time. Do you want to see Dr. Dante? He may be able to help you, probably give you something to calm you before you sleep?@
ALet me think about it. Please go back to bed.@ I look at her eyes and realize she worries.
AWill you be all right? Do you want me to stay with you?@
APlease go, Mom, I’m all right now.@ I turn to face the wall and wave her to go.
I turn off the lamp as she slips out of my room. I am glad for the darkness that hides the tears that formed in my eyes. Mom must not know, if I can keep it to myself.
000o000
I watch her face, non-commital and odd. Her thin fingers are long and deft as she lays each individual tarot card on the table across from me. I notice different images on each card that have no significance to me. Her eyebrows lifts, her eyes turn darkish. I notice her hand shake slightly. She hesitates for a second, her eyes closes. When she finally looks at me, her eyes pierces mine with intensity. I shudder, my heart pumps against my breast. I clutch my hands until they turn pale.
She finds her voice, so low I almost miss her words.
AYou are losing your sanity.@
I hear the words, like a voice coming from beneath the earth. They start running into each other. ASanityloseyoursanitylose...@ She pronounces the words like a verdict. My ears ring with confused wildness as I fall into a deep, dark hole, into nothingness. I see the ajar door through a cloud, with rays of sunlight that ripple in waves to brighten the room.
I scream, long and hard. She gets up from her side of the table, takes one big step and slaps me on the face. The ringing in my ears vibrate like a whirlwind tornado, deafening. My eyes clear. I see her in front of me, her hand open and reddish.
I press my hand to my lips to stop them quivering. Her voice echoed and re-echoed, “lose your sanity... lose your sanity...lose your sanity...@
I run out of the room, her words ring wildly all around me. I suspect she may have read the reason for my depression. Am I going mad? I decide I must confront Mother .
000o000

Before confronting Mother, I decide to do some research. I find and begin reading book after book with regard to insane/insanity. By the end of the day, I have consumed pages and pages of articles that confused me more. I hold my head between my hands as I try to digest the meaning of what I’ve read. I decide I must definitely confront Mother.
000o000
AWhy didn=t you tell me, Mom?@ I find courage to voice my suspicions.
ATell you what, dear?@ She continues with her embroidery.
AAbout Father...@
Mother can be frustrating at times. She keeps her eyes on her work. She seems reluctant to talk. I urge her with my eyes, if only to ease my mind.
“How did Father die?” There, I finally voice the question I have been meaning to ask her.
AYour Father lived a full life before he passed away.@ She is matter of fact as she focuses upon the intricate design on the fabric. Her fingers are quick and skilled with the needle. It is not the answer I want to hear.
AAre you ever going to tell me?@ Mother looks me straight in my eyes, and I see the sadness in hers.
AYou were too little at the time to understand why your father took his own life.@
My heart is heavy with dread. Now I have confirmation. My own father commits suicide. The truth is out, I am as insane as my father.
000o000
I struggle to keep my mind clear. I fight to ward off the darkness that keeps me imprisoned. I struggle to keep my emotions from bursting out. My breathing tightens and I lose all feelings in my conscious state. My dreams are back, dark and gloomy as ever. I struggle to hold on to my sanity. Darkness envelopes me, hurl me across a confusion of hills and mountains and valleys, until I find my tattered body in a vast abyss. Creepy voices and ghostly screams dominate my hearing. I feel cold hands strangling me, exacting the life out of me. I perceive the acrid smell of the dead and dying, strong and punishing.
000o000
AYou are not going mad, darling.@ Mother=s voice is clear and bursts through my confused state, soothing me. She knows me well. I can feel her arms around me as she comforts me.
AI am his daughter, you know.@ I squeak between sobs.
“Oh, my God, my darling daughter. You mustn’t think that way. You are not crazy, not in a million years.”
The cloud persists to crowd my brain. I endeavor to understand what she is trying to tell me. My mind is in a whirl, tumbling, tumbling into a dark hole.
Mother is quiet, waiting for me to return to sanity. She looks at me, this time with a twinkle in her eyes.
AWhat is it? Please tell.@ I beg her.
AThe man you grew up as your father, adopted you when you were little. He was not your real father.”
AMy adoptive father, who is he?@ The veil of darkness begins to clear.
AHe was your Father=s best friend. They grew up together like brothers. Your real father passed away a month before you were born, of prostate cancer. A year later your adoptive father and I married.”
000o000
I awake to the smell of sunlight, to feel the freshness of a new dawn, to taste the sweetness of a new life. How bright the morning sunshine appears! The cobwebs of doubt slip away, bit by bit until there remains a clear, picture of my real Father, the very image of sanity.

The End