Insane Stories

by Mike Stone A short story taken from my third sci-fi novel, “Whirlpool.” The old man shuffled down the long white hallway in his pale blue paper slippers. Underneath his thin blue institutional bathrobe, he wore the brown striped pajamas that were his hospital uniform. Had he tried to escape by shuffling out of the hospital, they would certainly have caught him because they moved so quickly and he shuffled so slowly. He...

I hear the voices in my headThey speak to me, wishing me deadA gun, a knife, or even some ropeBecause this life I live, is growing hard to copePain and suffering, torture and guiltCrimson tears, that I have spiltWaterfalls falling, from within my eyesOf wishes to be different, a human disguiseThey scream at me, voices so loudImpossible to hear my own, from inside the crowdMan, woman and child, they're all the sameThrough...

Blank. I stare vacantly. At thesewhite-washed walls. Blank. Driving myself upon them. Insane. White. They say it's a colourof purity. I say it's you goingblank. Insane. Slowly dying. That's me. Death. It's got its arms outwide. Blank. Insane. That's me. I'm an empty shell. Hollow. Faceless people. Bustling around my room. I don't hear you.Blank. Insane. That's me; hollow. Emotionless. Imagine. The feel of the blade. Brief...