Chasing God | Teen Ink

Chasing God

February 12, 2014
By FilmEcho68 GOLD, Wentzville, Missouri
FilmEcho68 GOLD, Wentzville, Missouri
16 articles 1 photo 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
"When you want to succeed as bad as you want to breathe then you will be successful." -Unknown


A thin cover wrapped over my shoulders kept me still in the padded room. Shivering, I pressed myself against the corner watching the cat pace back and forth in slow, unearthly movements.
Forget dreaming for a hope, it’s not coming, you are stuck with me now, The cat seemed to speak without moving its mouth as it always does. You are beyond hope, no God can save you now, a hiss echoed with every word and the cat turned to face me, its eyes, one purple, and the other black with a red pupil, seemed to morph into human eyes and back with every blink of mine.
“Mrs. Folly! I have your breakfast!” The familiar voice sang, but my eyes stayed on the cat; I was determined to prove he was real. “Let’s get you dressed and maybe we can try getting out of the room today,” a wide smile came to the woman’s face as she attempted to get in my line of vision.
“C-C-CAT!” I yelled pointing at him, the tail twitching, expanding, shortening, morphing in odd shapes. “Do you See!” My voice cracked, and I took my eyes off for one second.
“Mrs. Folly, you know pets are not allo-” I turned my head to keep the cat in sight but he was gone. The shock was too much, I curled into a ball and rocked back and forth, squeezing my eyes from her, the world, my life. It was all too much and I needed to escape.


A rare cold day seemed to keep most people in, or maybe it was the fact people did not exist, I couldn't say. My stride wide I tried to conquer the few blocks I had ahead of me.

Where was I going? I seemed to question to myself, Oh yes! The one place! and continued on.

I glanced up with a smile as my hand ran across the glass windows of the skyscraper next to me. Looking up, I swore I saw snow flurries, the white ones that get caught in lose hair when you are not looking. Without watching I seemed to dodge the people walking in mobs next to me, So that’s where they all were! I smiled brighter as I proceeded to ask a man in a bridged hat if the snow brought him out of hiding; he just looked at me and continued to walk, I assume that was a yes. Without much thought I continued on my way to-- What place? YOU KNOW WHAT PLACE, YOU DO! JUST CONCENTRATE! I replied to myself, Oh yes of course, how could I not know, and decided the other direction could bring me to the correct destination.

“--If you would rather spend your time, Mrs. Folly, pacing back and forth without the decency to put on clothes, I think you need to chace God.--” I intended the female voice came from someone passing by, my face turned into an upward frown and snapped,
“I am perfectly well-dressed ma’am, look at my new red jacket! I must continue to find out what’s wrong!” Wrong… wrong… something’s wrong… that word… did I just see a white light? Flustered, my hands went into my jean pockets to keep them from getting numb, eyes wide, my legs seem to wobble from uncertainty in my steps.

“--Miss Folly, please calm down. You need your--” The woman was too far for me to make out her words.

Snow flurries now came down so fast they danced, like feathers, clouding my vision. It reminded me of my childhood busting cattails against rocks in a rhythmic way. My brothers would be knee-high in the water as the white fuzz drifted down into the water pipe the brook ran into. Their faces, red, young, happy. I would sit and watch from the tree stump next to the brook, bearfoot, as my mother intended it was not right for a young lady to participate in boyish behavior. A book usually sat in my hands, eyes intently reading. A story of a man throwing large parties to win back his love stood out in my mind. He seemed psychotic in every aspect, I believe he died in the end.

Have I died yet?


Large lights, not yet on, hung from trees and street lights. Green and red ribbon decorated every window in Greenville. The walk to the office was easier than I had presumed.
What walk? You didn’t walk!
SHUT UP! This is not your story. I lived it.
That’s what you want to believe; your independence shadows the truth.
You cannot remember what happens next…
Why would I want to?
A cat paced back and forth in front of me. Slipping in and out of the dark shadows the night had to offer, only two red malevolent eyes beckoned me to come closer, but my muscles could not move. Forcefully, I tried to rip my limbs from their sockets, but to anyone passing by I looked like I was just a statue. Then a voice started ringing in my head,
Here is a thought you might want to consider, here, in our head. The mind is the greatest tool. You cannot remember because your eyes are not open. Yes, they are open, but do you know what you are truly seeing? Really seeing? This information is the world’s best camera and you seem to know how to mess it up. If you would just LISTEN your mind is the greatest tool. Is that not incredible? And up here, in front of all this is your personality. Filtering the feelings and thoughts given to you. Your feelings give meaning to the vision of the world around you. The people around you now, the ones that you do not think exist, are all stories charged with emotion. The connection between stories and people make your mind, you. Your memories are your life, only coming to an end when you die. We share these thoughts to reflect our personality. Your dream of releasing me, these “monsters,” that terrorize your sanity cannot be controlled. This dream of normalcy can only be achieved with a new life.
Who are you? I seemed to reply hesitantly. This voice always in my head, never having a name. There were always many voices but he seemed to stand out. Then the voice quickly changed to a high pitched slither.
Someone letting you know what you really are. Bidding you to keep trying, but always here to make you fail. I am here to make sure there is one less good light in this world. My name is Berith but the one who you ask the name for is Malphas.
Malphas?


My eyes flipped open, the musty attic walls echoed the silence that enclosed the space. Masked by darkness the peeling paint was held invisible, the wealth of the place hidden. Like wet paint, shiny grey color washed out the rest of the distinct colors. Dim musty air, thick and cool sat heavy like the dust on the crooked fan. My sheets were thin, allowing air to brush against my skin, leaving an impression of a stranger brushing past. Turning from the wall, I faced the long room. Almost unfurnished, a lone dresser was crammed in the corner, unpressed shirt sleeves reached out of the slits trying to escape from the cramped space as they were being suffocated. A blinking clock sat on the nightstand next to me reading 6:00am. Red numbers reflected in my eyes as I was entranced by their dance, on and off, on and off for hours on end unchanging. A locked window sat next to my headboard where Christmas lights’ happiness rippled through the blinds illuminating shadows that seemed to prey on my energy. My body felt strangely cool as I felt confined to the area of my mattress, hard as wood.

“Wood, Wood, Wood… trees! The tree!” Throwing myself from the bed I clawed at the sheets, ripping them off. My fingernails dug into the mattress cutting my hands on the springs. “The tree, the carving!” In minutes the mattress was in shreds on the floor, breathing heavy I saw it, the carving, the one that brought me to this miserable place. The word Croatoan etched by a nail in scratchy letters.

My head flipped up, my hair standing on end, I could have sworn violin music echoed from one of the walls. Every now and then, if you listened close, a bell would chime too.

“--Miss I think it is time for you to go to bed.--” The violin music rang. I started to sway as I collapsed in a curled position.

“I’M ALREADY ASLEEP!” I sang back and smiled a toothy grin. There seemed to be a tug at my sheets and my arm from an invisible force. “NO! NO!” a fit rose in my throat, I let loose wails and screams of terror. “I’M BEING TAKEN! LET ME GO! I DO NOT BELONG ANYWHERE! I AM ONLY A CHILD! MY MOTHER IS COMING!” I felt my face getting wet.
“--Shut up fool! I am not your mother!--” the music seemed to go erratic, my eyes seemed to flow over like the gutters, I was drowning. Reaching for the sheets on the floor, I needed something to keep me afloat.
“DAVID! DAVID HELP!” I screamed, the water pouring over my head, making my gasps fill with water. Reaching out, I thought I saw a hand, I knew it had to be David.
“HELP! HELP! I CAN’T SWIM!” In an instant I felt something small go into my forearm and I could no longer see my room.
I sank into the darkness, my eyes open but could not see. I seemed to float in the essence of imagination. I could not truly open my eyes, only the darkness my mind laid out was visible. Then I realized, there were no voices. Pure contentment and quiet. I had no one in my mind. For a minute I realized I was stuck in my mind and I could break free.
“--Miss Folly, are you awake?--” the sweet female words I had heard too many times before.

“No go away I don’t want to hear you anymore,” I snapped and rolled over, my eyes flinging open.
White fluorescent light, too bright for the room, woke me. Padded walls and floors lined the room and nothing else seemed to be present, no bed, no dresser, no windows. I slowly turned my head to see a larger woman leaning over me, wearing a blue loose fitting shirt and pants. Blonde hair sat in a mess on the top of her head. I blinked taking the whole scene in.
“Miss Folly? Do you understand?”
I did. I did understand. I understood who I was, and where I really was this whole time, probably years have gone by. I remember the run, my dog Eve at my side, only a mile from David’s, the flash, the tree carving, and the empty town. I realized the realistic voice in my episodes was my nurse talking to me outside. This was my chance. No more voices, no more sounds. I know where I am now. Now I can leave.
“I--I,” I muttered quickly.
“Yes! Yes!” The nurse exclaimed in excitement.
You are dead. You are mine, and you will be going nowhere. God will know Malphas and Croatoan have taken an angel, and you will be forever insane, burning in the fury of your mind.

“I-I am dead.” I muttered, all hope vanquished from the nurse’s face.


The author's comments:
This has to be my favorite short story I have every written. I love Mrs. Folly's character and the powerful image she brings as a psychotic.

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