Red Brick Wall

Forget about it its fine. Ringing through his mind like a siren, these thoughts troubled him. How can a God let people suffer in pain, how could he let shit like this happen? The plaster on the walls seemed dull, spiraled in fancy designs but lacking something, something. Everything mirrored everything. Daniel had seen everything as a parallel to something else, linking things for no reason. His mind wandered through foggy thoughts, a discussion of fruit could transcend into a discussion on the meaning of life or if there is life outside of what we see. But that was the kind of guy he was, he’d see something and want to know more, he’d think something and want to truly see it explained. Mystery annoyed him, the knowledge that he’d never know why everything was or what everything will be actually upset him. But yes, the ringing. Daniel was stuck in an asylum. His room was a sad white the type that isn't really white the kind you’d imagine being made out of leftovers in some complicated strange way. Bedroom would be the best description, simply put, it was a room containing a bed and a fake antique lamp. The lamp was plain and boring it seemed like the type that was trying to be good but really by his standards it was a bad lamp. The window was the only true source of honesty… the view was schizophrenic, half beautiful with hills and greenage while the other half was a red bricked wall.  The window never opened it was locked and it looked like the stubborn type anyway. But Daniel would often think that if he could go out there he’d choose to climb the wall rather than journey through the greenage. In one case you’d have a journey through the hills knowing that there’ll be more plants and most likely more hills. Yet by climbing the wall you’d unlock something that hadn’t been seen, Daniel would see the hills from above or maybe see something unimaginable. 

Every day the woman would come and wake Daniel up. The moody bitch. 7 am is a disgraceful time to wake up at. There’s nothing exciting happening in the morning just people complaining that they’re tired or the worst kind, the ones who’d be overly enthusiastic about the day ahead. Daniel hated the type, those who’d fake enthusiasm about everything just to pretend they’re happy. In contrary he found that it’s those who admit life is depressing that are most joyed about it. At least then if a good thing happens it’s unexpected. The woman known as Denise was a wanna-be nun, the old fashioned kind, hard in her approach. Daniel had seen softer rocks and at least rocks can crumble, Denise wasn't the kind and in that sense she was almost admirable…almost. Every day she would come around each room knocking each door three times. She was the type of person who hated change, even fucking knocking. Knock Knock Knock, she’d then shout the occupiers name followed by wakey wakey. "Daniel Sands wakey wakey." Every fucking day, not a change in a single syllable. Daniel was aggravated simply because he knew she did it on purpose. He could hear the smirk in her voice as she said it. But he accepted it because after sixteen years in the place it was hard not to just accept things. Daniel accepted that the un-holey nun would say Daniel wakey wakey each morning because she had done so for the length of time she’d worked there. Not only that but he accepted that he’d have to walk sock-less on the cold tiles until he along with everyone else reached the room containing their clothes otherwise known as Z room. But Daniel accepted that because that’s how it was, of course he’d change it if he could, but he can’t.  He can’t change anything because this is how his life was set out, God or whoever makes things happen made it so that Daniel Sands would have to get up at 7 am and walk on the cold tiles. Daniel would often contemplate the idea of God even then. At the time, it was a set in stone idea that there was a God and that God was the Christian almighty. But why if there was indeed a God, would he or even she make such a world. One with pain overshadowing happiness. Yet at the time Daniel never truly knew pain other than mental. The white ladies such as Denise were aggressive in their tactics. Denise knocked the door three times, each knock making Daniel shiver with hope of a new address. “Daniel, wakey wakey.” 

Daniel arose with a frosty breath. The cold tiles grasped his bare feet as though catching its prey. Light shone through the window making the bare walls reflect a bright white. Almost holy in presence. He reached for the door it was heavy steel taking his own weight to open it. Once opened a wistful aroma tingled his nostrils. The corridor was military-esque, the others lined up to gather their clothes in the Z room. There were about twenty odd others some bald but all blank faced, weak in their stance. Each and every one of them diagnosed without consent before they’d even been born. Denise explained that, they were here to be treated and they were special in a sense because if a cure came to light it would be because of them. Walking down the corridor the smell of sweet bleach and death stung his nostrils. The Z room was large with blank walls other than benches against them. Damian as usual handed the clothes out. Daniel took a stance at the protrudence in the far wall, Damian was sat inside protected by the surrounding fabrics and shoes. “Good morning Daniel, same as usual?” “Actually do you have any red?” “Nope, we’re all out, white is all we’ve got.” Standard talk. Daniel took his clothes and sat by the closest bench. Everyone changed in front of each other, while Daniel caught Jane approaching crookedly in the corner of his eye. She was unusual, her appearance was fragile in a don’t touch me kind of way. Jane was tall and very slim as though every bodily fluid had been flushed out of her, although she still could smile invitingly. Daniel watched as she sat, he could see himself blush through his reflection on the surrounding steel benches. It was as though he’d been caught naked in the shower but it was also a good feeling. However each time Daniel saw himself in a mirror or window he saw something different. At one time he'd see a boy with dreams and hopes, destined to do well. While at other times he would see a man close to giving up. When he saw this version he’d often wonder if having hope was worthwhile when very few dreams come true. Although he knew why he felt this way and it was all trivial. Daniel knew that a person like him, who has went through so much mental anguish would eventually accept hardships. He had, but after a while he had grown tired of life. Not to a suicidal point but to the point that he imagined that his food was poisoned or that a bomb would go off and he'd be OK with it. Was he depressed? Daniel asked himself the question all the time. He came to the conclusion that if you're painted blue you might as well be blue. Many of the others were blue, maybe in different forms but a lot were. Jane was most definitely blue, she never ate and when she did she'd throw it back up. She was special in a sense because she'd gone under the radar. Jane had the opportunity to experience nature and to feel free. But maybe that experience caused her to be how she is, Denise would argue differently but she was a hag. Jane talked of life outside, fourteen years of her life were in freedom. That's fourteen more than Daniel. He was jealous but she also talked of bad experiences. How in school there were bullies, calling someone blue outside of the "Blue" house was a serious insult apparently. It happened often to Jane. It was also because of school that she's stuck in the blue house. A teacher noticed her weight issues and eventually seen the bruises. But at least in the blue house she doesn't get bruised.