Writing as catharsis

A writing experiment

Posted in Prose, Ranting and rambling by Lachlan R. Dale on August 25, 2012
Illustration by Harry Clarke.

Illustration by Harry Clarke.

Sheets of hail cascade, punctuating the silence on the tin roof.

I know that muted pounding. It is the drone of the electric hornet; savage creatures of steel, sharp with violence.

Their effect on my consciouisness is profound. The air of menace, severe.

My mind has misfired. The focus of my contempt has moved from the external to the internal. The dialog in my mind has taken a turn for the worst.

My stomach is sour with the taste of dust and concrete. I picture it; severely discoloured by now, spotted black with bile and hate.

I taste the bitter remnants of adrenaline; putrid off-green flavour. I gag a little.

I reflect on the days events. I sense evil mockery from all angles. All are ready to burst forth with pitying, manic laughter. Their pity is false. Their hatred of my essence runs far deeper.

The void is unbreachable. Malevolence and humiliation haunt my every secret action. Escape? But how. Wherever I run, they will be the same. Their faces might change, but they never will.

I reach for the pillbox. Try and deaden my nerves. If I take enough, I will become numb – and numbness indicates freedom from pain.

My choice is rational.

A mental lurch. My brain slurs. Groggy now. The nauesa worsens. The drone gets angier; louder; now the pitch of a dentist’s drill.

I vomit.

I fall.

Silence. Nothingness. Solace.


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