I'm Not Crazy, I'm Just a Little Unwell
...except replace "unwell" with "batshit loco".
Psycho, My Own, a story I had almost forgot about. Probably my first ambitious project, it was started way back in 2001-2002, or somewhere there about. I forget what I was thinking, and I'm curious about what I was thinking, because looking through my notes I was trying to take on a lot; and had very little understanding of it all.
I'm getting ahead of myself; all that I'm saving for another idea dump post later on. Here, I'm a gonna share the only scene I ever wrote for the story, everything else being background, character notes and faux-psychological interspective. Strangely, I'm not sure why I didn't prose it out normally, instead I apparently chose to write it in script form. So that's how you get it too.
***
*Jerome enters a small office, clad in the blue-gray clothing of a commited patient. Dr. Cantwell sits on the other side of a desk between them, looking through a file.*
Cantwell: *Stands and offers his hand* Hello Jerome, I'm Dr. Cantwell.
Jerome: *Stands there glancing at hand, the looks up as he sits* You aren't Bill.
Cantwell: *Remains standing a moment before sitting down, looking embarrassed* Um, no, Dr. Artmein had some... business, cross country. *coughs, opening the file and reaching for a notebook* But he did leave some notes for me, I'm sorry I haven't read up on your file, I was just assigned your case... he mentions you suffer from schizophernia-
Jerome: Among other things.
Cantwell: *short pause* - multiple personality syndrome, paranoid and dellusional halluciations, something he calls a god-complex, and a string of irrational fits of obessive behavior.
Jerome: *calm, placid voice* You make me sound insane.
Cantwell: *looks up, almost intriged by the notion* Do you think so? Well, he goes on to other things as well...
*As he looks down at his notes, Cantwell's voice fades out, Jerome's eyes widening as his attention is focused on the back wall. He looks frightened, as a half-shadowed image of a dragon seems to grow from behind Cantwell. The mouth seems to whisper something; the image then disappears quickly as Cantwell's voice comes back into clarity*
Cantwell: *hasn't looked up or noticed a thing* ...r. Artmein started to mention something about an "Arthur" and-
Jerome: *attention snaps from the empty space above the doctor to Cantwell himself, his eyes narrowing* How do you know Arthur?
Cantwell: *looks up* Excuse me?
Jerome: *ignores question, angrily glaring at Cantwell* That bastard, he told you I was crazy didn't he?
Cantwell: *a little intimidated* I-
Jerome: DIDN'T HE?! That would be so like him, the arrogant little- *grasps hands together, badly imitating a little girl's voice* "Poor Gwen, she not right in the head, is she?" Plah! *throws act by slaming hands on the desk, scattering some papers and making Cantwell scoot back against wall* He thinks that getting some little newbie to put pressure on me will get to crack is that it? Is it!
Cantwell: *scared out of wits, shakily reaching for telecom button on phone* O-Orderlies?
Jerome: *slight crazed look, now standing and supporting self on desk as he leans over* But that's where he's wrong! I don't give in that easily! Not like your mother! She couldn't take the pressure, could she? Dumbass scank couldn't handle it, and took the easy way out, remember?
Cantwell: *smashing button down* Orderlies!
*two built men come into room, heading right for Jerome. Jerome attempts to scratch the nearest with his nails in a feminine move, but his wrist is caught in motion. The second grabs his other wrist, together twisting Jerome's arms behind his back and lift him off the floor, Jerome kicking and trying to twist out of their hold. A third waits in the hallway, holding restraints and a syringe, and the four dissappear around the doorway. Another orderly enters as the sounds of the struggle fade, looks around at the mess and begins to pick up*
Cantwell: *now standing against the wall, steadying himself* I didn't- I had no idea he was this- he just... snapped.
Orderly: Hmm.
Cantwell: But then he- he said something strange; he mentioned my mother?
Orderly: *continues cleaning* Mmm.
Cantwell: *holds head, wiping hair back over head* She - my mother - suffered from severe depression. Bipolar. One day- one day my father and I came home from... and there she was; shotgun shell and half her head on the carpet. *looks up, a questioning look on his face* I never told anyone that.
Orderly: *stands up, placing one handful of papers on the desk, handing another to the doctor* You just met Gwenevere. *hadn't been listening at all, pats Cantwell on shoulder as he leaves* Welcome to St Joshua's.
***
I'd like to think there's still something there to work with. I'd really need to better research mental illness if I wanted to go forward, I know I probably got quite a bit wrong (not to mention terminology). In my defense, I was in highschool when I came up with this, so that excuses at least some of my mistakes... sorta. =_=;
Psycho, My Own, a story I had almost forgot about. Probably my first ambitious project, it was started way back in 2001-2002, or somewhere there about. I forget what I was thinking, and I'm curious about what I was thinking, because looking through my notes I was trying to take on a lot; and had very little understanding of it all.
I'm getting ahead of myself; all that I'm saving for another idea dump post later on. Here, I'm a gonna share the only scene I ever wrote for the story, everything else being background, character notes and faux-psychological interspective. Strangely, I'm not sure why I didn't prose it out normally, instead I apparently chose to write it in script form. So that's how you get it too.
***
*Jerome enters a small office, clad in the blue-gray clothing of a commited patient. Dr. Cantwell sits on the other side of a desk between them, looking through a file.*
Cantwell: *Stands and offers his hand* Hello Jerome, I'm Dr. Cantwell.
Jerome: *Stands there glancing at hand, the looks up as he sits* You aren't Bill.
Cantwell: *Remains standing a moment before sitting down, looking embarrassed* Um, no, Dr. Artmein had some... business, cross country. *coughs, opening the file and reaching for a notebook* But he did leave some notes for me, I'm sorry I haven't read up on your file, I was just assigned your case... he mentions you suffer from schizophernia-
Jerome: Among other things.
Cantwell: *short pause* - multiple personality syndrome, paranoid and dellusional halluciations, something he calls a god-complex, and a string of irrational fits of obessive behavior.
Jerome: *calm, placid voice* You make me sound insane.
Cantwell: *looks up, almost intriged by the notion* Do you think so? Well, he goes on to other things as well...
*As he looks down at his notes, Cantwell's voice fades out, Jerome's eyes widening as his attention is focused on the back wall. He looks frightened, as a half-shadowed image of a dragon seems to grow from behind Cantwell. The mouth seems to whisper something; the image then disappears quickly as Cantwell's voice comes back into clarity*
Cantwell: *hasn't looked up or noticed a thing* ...r. Artmein started to mention something about an "Arthur" and-
Jerome: *attention snaps from the empty space above the doctor to Cantwell himself, his eyes narrowing* How do you know Arthur?
Cantwell: *looks up* Excuse me?
Jerome: *ignores question, angrily glaring at Cantwell* That bastard, he told you I was crazy didn't he?
Cantwell: *a little intimidated* I-
Jerome: DIDN'T HE?! That would be so like him, the arrogant little- *grasps hands together, badly imitating a little girl's voice* "Poor Gwen, she not right in the head, is she?" Plah! *throws act by slaming hands on the desk, scattering some papers and making Cantwell scoot back against wall* He thinks that getting some little newbie to put pressure on me will get to crack is that it? Is it!
Cantwell: *scared out of wits, shakily reaching for telecom button on phone* O-Orderlies?
Jerome: *slight crazed look, now standing and supporting self on desk as he leans over* But that's where he's wrong! I don't give in that easily! Not like your mother! She couldn't take the pressure, could she? Dumbass scank couldn't handle it, and took the easy way out, remember?
Cantwell: *smashing button down* Orderlies!
*two built men come into room, heading right for Jerome. Jerome attempts to scratch the nearest with his nails in a feminine move, but his wrist is caught in motion. The second grabs his other wrist, together twisting Jerome's arms behind his back and lift him off the floor, Jerome kicking and trying to twist out of their hold. A third waits in the hallway, holding restraints and a syringe, and the four dissappear around the doorway. Another orderly enters as the sounds of the struggle fade, looks around at the mess and begins to pick up*
Cantwell: *now standing against the wall, steadying himself* I didn't- I had no idea he was this- he just... snapped.
Orderly: Hmm.
Cantwell: But then he- he said something strange; he mentioned my mother?
Orderly: *continues cleaning* Mmm.
Cantwell: *holds head, wiping hair back over head* She - my mother - suffered from severe depression. Bipolar. One day- one day my father and I came home from... and there she was; shotgun shell and half her head on the carpet. *looks up, a questioning look on his face* I never told anyone that.
Orderly: *stands up, placing one handful of papers on the desk, handing another to the doctor* You just met Gwenevere. *hadn't been listening at all, pats Cantwell on shoulder as he leaves* Welcome to St Joshua's.
***
I'd like to think there's still something there to work with. I'd really need to better research mental illness if I wanted to go forward, I know I probably got quite a bit wrong (not to mention terminology). In my defense, I was in highschool when I came up with this, so that excuses at least some of my mistakes... sorta. =_=;