The small, white object floated past as I sat daydreaming in my chair. Actually, it didn’t float, like a feather, or drift and whirl, as a dust ball would when caught in the swirly rhythm of the air conditioning blast, but rather it zoomed past, straight and true, as if it had a purpose.


            Suddenly alert, I sat up and looked around, searching the surrounding grey-painted  floor and small table, to no avail.  No white object, no feather.  A minimal amount of dust covering the table in a thin layer, but no flying object.


            “It’s him,” I thought.  “Come to haunt me.  Come to let me know my dastardly deed won’t go unchecked.” I wondered why the object, the manifestation perhaps,  was white though.  White is pure, and good, and beautiful.   It should be black, as evil as I’m told the deed itself was, as evil as he was, or red like the eyes of the devil.  Yes, red, as red as the liquid that oozed out of him where the knife went in, the grey, steel-blade knife with the black handle.  With some pleasure I do recall that part, as if it were an endless loop of a tape playing over and over. It felt good.  It was a relief, like a payback for all those years of … well, the other thing my doctor says I shouldn’t think about.   I can’t really remember much else.  I sit here every day and try until my brain hurts, but all I ever see are those white things flying past my head, or some colorless fractal exploding behind my eyes. Or that loop.


            I got up and walked to the window, seeking a clue to identify or explain something.  Anything. As usual nothing, only the mid-line of trees, some frost-covered branches brushing against the building just below the blood red rain blurring the barred window.  I see too, that other building across the yard, old and grey, with layers of peeling paint and black windows like huge eyes empty and staring and pleading for something.   And  the sign in the wide, circular driveway, State Prison, Psychiatric Unit.  Black against white.


  1. Wow... what an image.
    SOmetimes I think we are all in our own little cells wherever we are. SOme are just bigger and include grass to cut, cats to feed, meals to prepare...

  2. WOW!! In just a few words you've created such a story. I like the use of colors, too.

  3. Amazing writing. It's a thin line that seperates us from the insane. Speaking personally cuz I see white floaties sometimes too. lol. Apparently not black and white for me perhaps a gray area. This is wonderful. You are so creative Judie.

  4. I don't know if my earlier comment that seems to have disappeared will appear Judie but want to reinstate that I like this - deliciously creepy! Thanks for visiting Textilosopy recently.When I visit here I want to give you a big hug. How is that naughty but delightful Ms Wee going?

  5. Holy mackerel Mz Judie.....that was amazing!! You know what we should do together..........we should write something.....one of us starts, then the other, then the other...and see where it takes us. A colaboration of words!
    Big hugs and love,


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