- Sun Apr 02, 2017 5:51 pm
Monday, 30 April 2012
”Who am I? Who are you? You don't think I know who I am?”
”Clearly you don't child, if you did, they wouldn't be calling you John Smith!”
”Rubbish! Maybe thats just what I want them to think?”
”Maybe you're just the looniest one of us all?” The elderly lady laughed at him, her blue hair covered head shaking at him. ”Pfft!” The strange lanky man scoffed at her, waving a dismissive hand towards her before turning and wandering off. ”Who am I? WHO AM I?! Who is anyone? That's the question THEY should be asking.” he wondered to himself. The fact of the matter was that the man, they called John Smith, really had no idea who he was. Or did he? It was hard to tell sometimes.. Smith growled in frustration, feeling as if his name was right there on the tip of his tongue, yet it alluded him. A lot of things alluded him, and that was the part driving him mad. He wasn't insane, really no.. But he was going that way clearly.
For six months, John Smith had called the Sunnyvale Psychiatric Hospital “home,” and noone knew anything more about him today then they did the day he arrived. The man had literally been found by the staff on their doorstep. With no recollection of who he was, or how he'd gotten there. He had been fairly out of it for the first few weeks, but slowly he had come around and started spouting pure and utter nonsense. ”Do you remember what you did for a living?” Had been one of the first questions he'd been asked, when he first started to come around. It took him a few moments, and then he hesitated before answering. ”I... I was... a teacher!” The staff was pleased, progress! ”What kind of teacher?” This time? There was no hesitation. ”I was a Professor of Transfiguration! At the school of wizarding!” Smith chirped happily, he seemed quite genuine in his answer but it was obvious that he was off his rocker. The Doctor just sighed as the conversation went down hill from there.
John Smith had been subjected to numerous tests over the months. Blood work, MRI's, CT scans, the Doctors had thrown every conceivable medical test at him in search of a medical cause for his delusions. There was nothing obviously wrong with him, but he was still quite crackers. The authorities had had about as much luck figuring out who he was or where he'd come from. His picture and finger prints had been ran through just about every system imaginable, with no returns. A picture of a peculiar tattoo on his forearm had been forwarded to the authorities, but there had been no word on that either.
There was theories as to who he might have been, or what was wrong with him, but the only certainty about John Smith was that he was just another curiosity at the funny farm. While he was spouting off more and more nonsense each and every day, no one believed him to be a threat to anyone. Some of the staff enjoyed his grandiose claims of wizards, exotic creatures and other nonsense.
”Spouting nonsense again are we Mr. Smith?” Asked Doc, the elderly man with frizzy white hair and a mad look in his eye. ”Nonsense? Pfft.. I'm just hiding out here.. You know, so he doesn't find me.” Smith said, nodding his head deeply. Doc cocked a brow. ”And who is he my young friend?”
Smith shot him an annoyed look. ”The Master! Or Master.. McMaster? Something!” Doc bellowed with laughter. ”My good boy, I think you've been watching too much TV! Sounds like the name of a cheesy villain from an even cheesier scifi series.”
The annoyed reaction on Smiths part was clear, him growling in response. ”What would you know? Silly muggle! So blind, you can't even see the truth swirling around your head!” Smith stormed away, annoyed with the residents. They were alright in his opinion, but quite useless to what he needed to be doing.. But he wasn't even sure of that either.
The most frustrating aspect for Smith was that he knew the answers were close, but just out of reach.. He knew he wasn't crazy, it was just that the truth was locked away in his head. When he slept, he had dreams sometimes, broken images and events of peoples faces, places, events, storms and death. It was like a massive jigsaw puzzle in his head, one that made absolutely no sense.. But he knew it was real, he knew it all meant something. All of these things came randomly to him and then he'd tell the first person he could about the Master, Snake Eaters, Wizards, Muggles and other strange terms. He spat these things out day in and day out. But noone listened.
And honestly? There were some days that he wondered if remembering would even be a good thing.. Some of the imagery in his dreams was quite... Horrifying.. Other imagery provoked deep feelings of sadness and loss, like this woman he seemed to recall. There were too many questions, and so few answers. And it was clear that there was noone who could help him through this. Everything he said fell on deaf ears..
John Smith was just another mad man in the box, and it seemed unlikely to change anytime soon.