Entry of the mind

Boredom...........its settled deep within the confines of my cerebral cortex nesting and procreating..........I don't think anything can get it out. its soul purpose is to divulge upon the hosts vast sanctuary of knowledge until they become a mindless walking psychopath and fall back upon the deprived, vulnerable, pitiful planet lost forever in the oblivion of ignorance.........this is what was once my thoughts during a session with a Madame, until after on that fateful day I met Miss Signora Psyche Zenobia.1

She was studying under the local writer, a Monsieur Poe I believe. To traverse within the precincts of my chateau and write about her findings was her assignment set forth by this Poe; what she would find, would astound her like nothing else in this world. 2


CH I: Monsieur Malliard3

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The name is M. Malliard. I was born on the 6th of June within the year 1806. Some may call this an oddity, me.I find it rather impressive.5

If you don't mind, follow me through time back to 1888. I, being at the ripe age of 26 had just moved to London and was in need of an institution fit to house me and my, occasional guests6

I ended up purchasing a mansion in adequate condition, from a young boy just out of high schoolhis parents had died in a very tragic, unrealistic "accident" and left him nothing but this splendid place and a Lamborghini Diablo and in desperate need of money. This new acquisition I then twisted to my liking: Black with blood red trim (the outside), red tile, and Black wallsceiling toothe stairs a shining black with red railing; red Pictures hung on the wallsrather the illusion thereofand so the walls (not every wall had a picture "hung" upon it) were given the illusion that they were bleeding (all pictures were painted in red and only red). This was a place I could call homea place some would come to call the Maison De Sante: "madhouse".7

I had the unfortunate pleasure of being the new guy on the block which had its advantages and disadvantages. This meant that I would have to introduce my reclusive confines to every being that resided just this side of the house on the haunted hillthe supposed whereabouts of a M. Jackson Ripner. Nobody new what to think of me; some thought me rather weird being so reclusive from the rest of the world and having random visitors happen upon my premises. I, knowing each that happened upon my property, made quick their visit so as not to arouse any suspicion. One fateful day the weirdest thing happened, there was a note on my doorstep saying that M. Malliard should visit Bedlam asylum for the criminally insane. I didn't know what to do for I had heard stories about that place; most memorable to me was the story of "Doctor Tarr & Professor Fether". I decided to fulfill the quest set forth and go to Bedlam. The moment I opened the door though................. 8