here's something that i wrote for Madness day's lit category...
" Do you remember the first time, Hank? The first time you felt the urge to kill?"
Hank sat on the cozy red chair in the office of a very famous psychiatrist. The psychiatric professional had on reading glasses, a fancy white coat that made Hank think of an insane asylum, and a name tag that said John. A bland name. Very bland.
" 2003." Hank replied after about 10 minutes with his thoughts, sifting through his collection of dark and bloody memories. " I tried to kill the Sheriff. Got through about 50 of his guys before he shot me dead."
John nearly choked on his own saliva when he heard this abridged tale of Hank's first assassination attempt. " Dead!? You... he killed you?"
" Yes. It happens a lot actually. I've died a few times over the years."
John sat, puzzled, trying to decide where to begin. " Now, why did you want to kill the sheriff?"
" I don't know. I just did?"
" You didn't have a reason? You just wanted to kill him because you felt like it?"
Hank sat, silent. John decided to change the subject.
" So... back to your... deaths... how many times has it happened?"
" About 8. Yeah. 7 or 8. Maybe 9. I keep being brought back. By friends. By Demon Zombie Clowns. By Jesus once. Maybe."
" STOP!" John nearly screamed. His closed mind tried to comprehend all that he'd heard. " Jesus and a Zombie...Clown."
"Yes. The clown's a wild card, but me and Jesus have been trying to kill each other for years."
"Wh-why!?" John blurted out.
Hank sat silent for a moment before stating: " I don't know."
John was getting frustrated. He tried once more to get some solid facts from Hank. " Now this Zombie Clown," John nearly passed out from saying that phrase alone, " Where does he fit into this?"
Hank was still as he tried to remember. Finally, he stated " He was one of the Sheriff's bodyguards."
John began to write this on his pad until Hank added: " Maybe. I know he was there. But then I killed him and he came back as a zombie. Then i killed him a few more times and he came back as a fiery demon. But now he's dead for good. Maybe."
John sat in silence for a few moments, processing his thoughts, considering this man's ludicrous story and all the insanity in his life. He then came to a conclusion. The best one he could muster, at least.
" Mr. Hank," he began, " I believe to know the source of your problem. With all of the insanity of you life and a lack of reason for it, you feel like you're trapped in your own life. You feel that you have no control over what happens to you."
Hank sat in silence for almost a half hour. Then, after 31 minutes, he smiled and began to laugh. " Doctor, thank you. I think I just had a breakthrough!"
" REALLy!?" John was almost glowing with excitement. Legitimate excitement. " What is it?"
The nest thing that John felt was the cold steel of Hank's pistol up against his temple. Hank had drawn it so fast that John hadn't even noticed it until it was up against his head.
" I've realized..." Hank began, "that I don't care about my insane life. I don't care that nothing in my life happens for a real reason. Do you know why?"
John was paralyzed with fear. Sweat drenched his face, he couldn't bring his body to utter a single word, but he met Hank's cold, murderous gaze with a look in his eyes that asked 'Why?' behind all the fear.
" Because it doesn't need to have a reason. Because it's MADNESS. And it. Is. FUN..."
Do You Remember The First Time
a short story by Devan Muse AKA " YanoRazu"
