Genre: Drama/Thriller
The smell of disinfectant on the yellowed tiled floor, dances with the stink of pee and heralds my attendance to the room, once more.
The smell of disinfectant on the yellowed tiled floor, dances with the stink of pee and heralds my attendance to the room, once more.
I can hear the crack and zap of the electrical rods that will rightly let me see the world as it should be, once again.
They’re only here to help: they’ve told me that enough, for goodness sake mister smith it’s nineteen fifty three. This is a modern world.
I teach mathematics at the local college where the students can call me prof. Some do, some don’t, you can’t enforce these things.It isn’t that I am ashamed of anything I’ve done; I’ve tried to be a man of tolerance, of kindness.
I love my wife and my two upright, all American children - they will make us all proud, one day.
But as they strap the rods to the side of my head, I remember all the pain that’s to come and how it’s for my best, I mean, they’ve told me so.
It was only a photo, that’s what I told my wife. That’s what I told the cops. That’s what I told the judge. That’s what I told the doctors.
I can hear the hum of the machine, getting ready to burn that dark devil inside my head. I’ll be a better man for it. I know that now.
A professor of Mathematics shouldn’t have a photo like that in his desk.
bobby stevenson 2017
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