by Thomas Emmon Pisano

Created on: July 13, 2009

Invasion of Privacy

Now where is he? I know he is in there somewhere. My brain must be melting I can hardly stand the strain of the menace in my head.

I put forth my senses trying to find the parasite residing inside of my psyche and the profuse invader of my thoughts. Sometimes he screams and screams all night long. It is quiet now too quiet too much so, this scares me and makes me want to run for the medicine. I write messages to my self during the sane moments. It is quiet now.

I'll try to sleep. I haven't slept much lately he likes to stay up at night yelling at the television or the walls, I don't know which he likes best; it doesn't matter.

She goes to the medicine cabinet and pulls down the familiar yellow and white bottle marked flurazepam, filled her water glass and swallowed the green capsules while looking at her self in the mirror. She stood looking and brushing making sure all was as it should be.

I look old and tired, she remarked to herself unconsciously. How long has it been Brenda how long since you were loved? A little voice began to whisper in the back of her head almost outside of her but not quite. Like obscene fingers looking for a way into the deepest part of her, that was what he was like this thing that had taken her over. Almost and without warning he was there looking at her from the mirror he was awake and she knew it. She stared at the mirror intently. She could seem him, he was there, and it was changing her into itself.

Come on Brenda, come on lets play. He fell into a slurred voice. She knew that the medications had taken hold and it was now a matter of time before she would be rid of him for a night of rest and fitful sleep. She switched off the light and went to the bedroom the television was on and would stay on all night for her protection. He tried to scream but the warm swells of medicine were washing over her body and her mind, the light went off and Brenda slept the sleep of the innocent.

The moon rose, the demon ranted, as it stormed the citadel of her slumbering mind. He refused to surrender to her narcotized state; he fought.

BRENDA! He screamed, BRENDA! He did this repeatedly with as much force as the demon could muster. BRENDA, HEAR ME! He cried aloud but could not get through the fog surrounding the peaceful Brenda.

"Brenda can you hear me child?" This voice was different, very different. Like a peaceful grandfather's voice. "Brenda come here child let me look at you." She was happy, suddenly she twirled around, and around so the grandfather could see her radiance. "You are as beautiful as I remember that you are." She went over, sat near the feet of the elderly man, and rested. "Brenda, it is all right, now you are safe."

Learn more about this author, Thomas Emmon Pisano.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.