Sunday, April 15, 2007

19th April 2998, day three in Serene Settlements.

Memories…so many memories…all of them buried deep in a drawer at the back of my mind. No, I am not trying to forget them, quite the contrary in fact. I need to unlock the drawer…and remember. Happy, sad, angry, frustrated recollections…recollections that a fifteen year old like me had no business having! Till this day, I do not know what truly happened, and I probably will never find out either. I wonder if things like this happen to everyone, only they keep quiet and never tell their tale.

I know I am in an asylum. Do you think I do not have eyes? I can see for myself. The guards like to patrol those cells every half hour or so, in case the “mentally disturbed patients” harm themselves. Only we aren’t supposed to call them guards. They are Ms. Iris and Ilea, our so-called friends. And that means ‘guards’, you and I both know that. Mentally disturbed patients. Hah. Why don’t they just come right out and call us lunatics? I know I probably shouldn’t take it out on Iris and Ilea. They have good intentions, after all, and it wasn’t their fault I was stranded in this prison.

Nevertheless, those women get on my nerves all the time, with their slow, deliberate voices, almost as if I was a three year old. I am already fifteen, perhaps elder. Also, you know the way identical twins sometimes finish their twin’s sentences? Well, Iris and Ilea are like that, only they do it all the time. Iris never finishes her sentences and Ilea always completes them. I wonder how they cope when they get separated. Iris would probably go like, “So, how…?” to some random person while Ilea, in a different place would go like, “…are you?” That would indeed be a hilarious situation and I wish I could be there to see it if it ever happens. However, those two seem to be inseparable and it is enough to drive anyone up the wall to listen to their talk…that is, if they haven’t already went off their rocker in the first place.

In addition to that, Iris is the twin with a loud, hearty voice while Ilea has this high-pitched, scratchy voice. Do you still wonder why they work in Serene Settlements? I guess it is the only place anyone can bear their contrasting voices completing sentences. Iris and Ilea are tall, pale and dark-haired. The colour of their skin is unreal. There’s always this ghostly tinge and the twins seem to radiate this chilly aura despite their warm personalities. I wonder if it is because they meet with so nutcases everyday. They also have worried frowns on their faces, and narrowed, suspicious eyes. All of the guards in Serene Settlements have the same look. Serene Settlements…such a dumb name, but perfectly suitable for a funny farm.

I have a room mate, or rather, cell mate, incidentally. Her name is Sara and she’s pretty nice except for her tendency to suddenly start kissing the wall as she hangs herself by the legs from her bed frame. Sounds impossible, but you have to see her before you get what I mean. Otherwise, she’s quite peaceable and twists loose strands of hair around her finger, humming a melodious tone. I have tried to ask her the name of that song, but I don’t think I can get her to understand me. She just stares up at me dreamily with this wide grin on her face whenever I attempt to strike up a conversation.

Poor girl, her mind has completely gone, probably just like all the other inhabitants of Serene Settlements. Except for me, of course. I have not lost my marbles…not yet, at least. I have no idea how long it would take for my mind to give out in this dreadful place. One day, I will be one of those broken-spirited people, wandering around the hallways of Serene Settlements, mumbling to myself, asking everyone the truth…what is true and what is not. This place has that effect on people, you see. I stared at the pure white wallskin with the tiny grey swirls, spinning forever and ever. Looking down at the blank piece of compaper on the desk in front of me, I pressed the button on my simple chain that activated my e-pen. I needed to write the whole story down…to let everyone know the true story. Permit me to take you for a stroll down the forbidden memory lane, the memory lane that was not supposed to belong to me…
This is a work of fiction, written for amusement during a period of excessive boredom.

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