Insanity

Afraid.  I am so very afraid.  It’s been days since, yet it still haunts me.  I fear insanity has taken even the farthest reaches of my mind.  They can’t find me, yet, oh no.  I am hidden, oh so very well hidden, for now.  Why the madness, you ask?  Why the hiding?  Why the fear?  I suppose I could share.  But listen closely, for this is the only, one and only, time I shall tell.1

It was a chill night in the fall of 1772.  Autumn leaves danced to the moist ground all a golden and copper.  A fine mist filled the crisp air of that blackened evening.  Oh, it was a beautiful sight, but my intentions that night spoiled the easy pleasure of watching the leaves die.  Ah yes, death would be plentiful that night.2

The impatient horses tapped their hooves against the dried hay spread in intricate patterns over the dirt floor holding the old red barn in place, awaiting their nightly supper of alfalfa and partially rotted apples.  The black spotted cows bawled constantly, begging to be milked.  Through all this, the barn cats still slept, soundly, in the warm and comfortable hayloft.  Oh how I envied them, in their peacefulness of slumber, as I was disturbed and on the verge of breaking in two.  Fredrick noticed not my first symptoms of insanity, but went ahead with his work of milking and feeding.  He, and only he, was my friend on that damn farm.3

Why had I borrowed that money?  I then regretted my past decisions as I cleaned the stalls of their stench and cobwebs.  I hated being a servant.  But I owed my sweat and blisters to old man Cataragen for loaning me that money.  Worthless, it was.  Wasted on that damn house and a young love.  My girl, she left me for another love, then shortly after, the house caught fire, burnt down to a pile of black ashes that swirled away in the breeze.  Stupid, I told myself, but then I learned my lesson in those damn fields and that shack they called a barn.4

“I’m finished for tonight,” Fredrick sighed.  “I’m dead tired.  Off to bed with me.”5

I cringed at the word “dead,” for it filled my deranged thoughts.  “Yes.  I shall finish in but a few moments and join you.  Goodnight.”6

“See you at dawn, I’ll be asleep before you get done with that cobweb.”7

And with that, he ascended to the hayloft where I heard him collapse in exhaustion.  His extra work that day had been in my favor, he couldn’t interfere while snoring his way through the night.8

Once completed with the dirty work assigned to me, I waited, oh so quietly, for Frederick to be in a hypnotic state of sleep.  I then slipped through the creaking barn doors, ever so slowly; as to make no sound, into the darkness of the cold autumn night.  Leaves crunched beneath the soles of my boots, but all was resting within the unbreakable barrier of sleep.  As I reached the front door of the house, I re-thought my plans for the hundredth time:9

Into the old man’s room, pistol aimed and ready.10

Shoot the silent shot of a madman.11

Hide the body, I still in need of a fitting place.12

To the barn, my work finished, and sleep a sleep of innocence and remember not what I had done in the morning.13

Lie to all questions asked of me.14

Why, you ask, kill the old man?  What ever has he done to me?  It is all very clear, in my crippled mind at least.  After his wife passed to the heavens above, of a sickness none knew, the old man, Cataragen, became a vicious master, delivering pain and agony to his farm-hands, getting revenge on the wrong men for his loss.  Why, I had done no wrong, and all of a sudden, I found myself bound to an oak, receiving lashes for my apparent sin.  From then on, Cataragen was a changed man, taking all anger out on me.  He once got his hunting rifle, loading over and over, trying to kill me, laughing a crazy laugh the whole way through.  Shooting bullet after bullet, but missing from his lack of soberness.  Finally, I dodged and rolled on the ground, while he shot wildly, hitting Horace who stood behind me, piercing him in the heart.  Cataragen still laughed.  I hungered for vengeance from that day forward.  So my plan was then taken into action.15

Slowly, ever so carefully, I poked my head through the crevice of the open door to find nothing but black.  “So far, so good,” I thought to myself.  “All my plans are coming to a horrifying life.  Now I shall grasp my desires, my wants, my needs.  Finally, I shall have the old man’s blood running cold.  Perhaps I will laugh at his unknown decease.  Or perhaps I will not, for if I do, it may come out as insanity.”16

As I crept up the soundless staircase, my head flooded with thoughts of the man’s face, his expression when I killed him.  Would he scream?  Would he speak?  Would I aim wrong and he try to kill me?  Ah, but I feared not of bad aim, for I knew that my madness would help me prevail in hitting his heart, just as he did Horace.17

After long moments of painful anticipation, I awaited outside his bedroom door, listening to the nerve-racking snore of the old man.  I was ready, biting at the bit to shoot Cataragen, but my dreams of triumph, freedom, dead Cataragen delayed me.  They overwhelmed my brain, and it took me minutes, precious minutes, to pry myself from that spot.  Slowly, I turned the yellow knob on the blackened bedroom door.18

Inside, the full moon shone through the clear windowpanes onto the hard face of Cataragen.  My eyes filled with rage as I laid them upon a grin form the old man’s dreams, and I could tell he was shooting at me again, this time aiming accurately.  “Kill him, kill him now!” is what my head blurted out.  “Revenge, get revenge!”19

Pulling the trigger back, a bullet emerged and flew, almost in slow motion to the old man, then through his heart, making a satisfying hole.  A few seconds passed, his snoring had ceased, and eventually his breathing.  No sound had been made or heard.  It was bliss.  Cataragen was dead and I was then free to start a new life on my own with no master that was as insane as I was to become.  The excitement of my killing surged through my body like sugared water.  Then I cam out of my trance, thinking of where to hide the body.20

“It has to be an unknown place.  Somewhere none would even ponder of looking.  But where?  Nowhere near the house, or the barn.  The forest?  No, I may hide there myself…  ah yes, the pond!  No one shall look there, with all the demented fish and algae overcoming the water’s surface.  And none shall find the body, even if they search, for Cataragen shall be cut into pieces no bigger than a walnut.”  That thought pleased me.  I then longed to be at the water’s edge, hacking the old man’s body to tiny pieces.  Staring at the deceased’s face, I noticed his grin.  I envied his smile, yet loathed it.  I wished that I could smile, but I hadn’t since my girl left, and I wanted to chop his smile to bits for laughing at me.21

I had conveniently wrapped the body in tablecloths and doused them in red wine, so as not to look obvious, just going to clean some soiled laundry.  Oh, my plans were so brilliant!  I could hardly believe my intelligence and creativity.  It amazed me so, that although I was just a stupid farm hand, I could devise such cunning plans.  I laughed at my triumph and cleverness, so joyous by those last few weeks of my life, and anyone listening to me would take my chuckle for insane.  As I reached the front door, I silenced my humor and complimentary and set on my lips a look of despise for the dirty clothes to whiten.22

All was quiet outside the chipping, gray house, then empty of any, and all, current residents.  It was in the wee hours of the morning that I carried the bundle to the end of my murder.  I thought not of interference, everything had gone perfectly, nothing could possibly go wrong.  Or could it?  As I stepped carelessly in the blackness, my foot discovered a rock, then decided to stumble and fall the rest of my body.  In the peaceful silence of early morning, a loud “thud” and “boom” rang out as Cataragen toppled over me.23

The barn doors opened with a “smack,” and Fredrick appeared, searching for trespassers, a small lantern glowing brightly in the dark.24

“Who… who’s there?” he asked, scared.25

I said nothing, hoping he would leave me be, but still he stood, lantern light moving swiftly over the ground.26

“Who’s there?” he repeated.27

Nothing.28

“Damn it!  I know you’re there!  Answer me or I’ll wake my master.”29

I winced.  No, he wouldn’t wake his master, for he was in an eternal state of sleep.30

“For heaven’s sake, answer!”31

I stood.  The light shown on my face, shown on my brown clothes, shown on the tablecloths.32

“Glory, Tim, you scared the hell out of me.”33

My mouth moved not.  I just stood there, staring.34

“What are you doing out so late?”35

“Chores.”36

“Can they not wait until dawn?”37

“They cannot.”38

“Then let me assist you, I am wide awake now.”39

“I needn’t any help.”40

“Please, let me help.”41

Fredrick already stood but one foot away from the dead body, reaching down to touch it, thinking it only laundry.42

“No!”43

I was too late.  The cloths lay open, revealing the grinning, stone white face of Cataragen.  Fredrick stumbled backward, then stood awkwardly, stunned at the sight.  A few seconds passed, then Fredrick looked up at me.  A confused look filled his blue eyes.44

“What… what the hell happened, Tim?”45

I just stared.  What could I say?  “I killed him”?  “He nearly took my life”?  The best description would be, “I am insane.”46

“God Tim, answer me!”47

I searched for the words.  My eyes shot back and forth, from Fredrick to Cataragen and back to Fredrick.  “He’s dead.”48

“I’m no idiot, Tim.  How?”49

Did I have the courage to tell?  Could I say in words the truth?  Of course.  Fredrick was my friend, best friend.  I could tell him.  “Me.  I… did it.”50

“What—”51

“He has haunted my brain ever since the day Agatha passed on.  Driven me crazy.  I now have revenge…”52

“Tim, you could be hanged for this.  Sure, I hated the old man after the death of Agatha, but I did not… kill him.”53

“You are almost out of this damn place.  I still have a fair amount of time to work.  He has not tried to kill you, has he?”54

“Well… no.”55

“My point.  I must have vengeance.  I must.  And now I grasp it in my very hands.  Understand?”56

“No.”57

“Of course.  You shall never.  You have not the same experience as I.  Go now, I must be left alone.”58

“I can help you, Tim.”  He stepped forward, reaching his hand to me.  I drew my pistol, loaded, aiming it at Fredrick’s chest.59

“One more step, Fredrick, and I’ll shoot, I swear…”60

“But… I can help—”61

“No, you can’t.  Stay away.  You endanger yourself every inch you take.”62

He stopped.  “God Tim, you’re insane.”63

A silence came as I thought about my insanity, Fredrick knew.64

“Please,” he insisted again, “allow me to help.”65

“Fredrick, don’t do this—”66

“Please Tim…”67

“No!”  And with that, my finger pulled the trigger back, releasing another bullet.  Fredrick stopped, jerked back, mouth open, and fell in a heap onto the cold dirt.68

“Please…” he repeated, shocked, then let out a final breath.  All was quiet.69

As I filled Fredrick’s grave, I knew I was insane.  If I wasn’t, why had I killed my best friend?  Why had I not listened to him?  Why?  Why?  Why?  It was all I could ask, all I could think, all I could say.  I whispered but a few words, then continued on my way to finish Cataragen, never to return.70

The early morning turned deep gray, the dawn in it’s first stages.  “I must hurry,” I thought.  “I must complete my task before the horizon is filled with sun.  Now, for my revenge to be brought to justice, I will do what I have longed for, cut Cataragen into pieces.”71

Soon after that thought, I was at the water’s edge.  It was black with algae and soft ripples appeared in the slight wind.  From my belt, I grasped a hatchet stolen from the barn.  I swung it back and forth through the air, marveling at its sharp blade, anxious to destroy anything in its path.  The metal shined as the moon crept from the clouds to create a circle about the deceased and I.  It was time.  Time for vengeance, time for my insanity to grow.  And so, the hatchet fell onto Cataragen’s neck, beheading that awful, grinning master.  It was satisfying, oh so very satisfying.  It was so, that I repeated the act of chopping, over and over, until Cataragen lay in a million pieces.72

Later, after I had scattered the pieces of human over the water, watching them sink to become fish food, I sought a place for shelter.  “I need food.  Ammunition.  Water.  Shelter.  A new mind…”73

I decided, after a long while of thought, that I would return to the farm once more, breaking my vow never to go back, for ammunition and more weapons.  I had recalled my master’s, no, Cataragen’s, rifle and a few other guns which I could easily tote along in my belt.  The kitchen held knives for not only defense, but also food.  And still, the barn housed sharp objects for building a shelter and farmhands’ guns.  All this was to be stolen; including an exceptionally long coat of Cataragen’s to seclude weapons from sight.  Oh, I was brilliant!  Even through my enormous insanity, I was able to devise such plans!  It made me oh so joyful.74

Finding shelter in a nearby patch of trees, I slept the day away until dark, so as not to be caught in the act of theft.  I was so very tired, I lacked sleep from past weeks of despise and much evil thought.75

When all was still, overcome by the darkness of night, I snuck to the house, then barn, gathering all I could hold in my belt and coat pockets.  Oh, it was so exhilarating!  Yet I found myself shivering with goosebumps and searching to find every sound.  Before I would not have been afraid, but my insanity, my madness made me petrified.76

I said a forever good bye to the farm as I ran, untearful, to the woods, my new home.  Never, I promised myself, would I return to that damned land.  With that, I left for the woods where I would wallow in my madness…77

And so I hide in these woods, days after my triumph, my loss, my mind’s invasion of insanity.  Here I sit on these cold nights, my madness still multiplying, like a bacterium; building up in my head until I feel it will explode.78

I sit here, wondering, shall I have the hunger to kill more, even innocent people?  Or shall my insanity become so unbearable as to drive me to suicide?  Which comes first, I know not.  All I know is that I am insane and anyone who crosses my path with the slightest feelings toward me, shall die, not by me, but my insanity.  The next person could be you, or a stranger, or, it could be me…79