Tag Archives: insane


On my way home, I decided to use the shortcut. Nobody sensible uses the shortcut. Just those who are either extremely brave or extremely moronic. The extremes. The shortcut is a dark alley, one so creepy it scared people off even during daytime. But it cuts my journey short by twenty-something minutes, which is the amount of time it takes to walk down the street and turn to continue the journey home. And there was a match I’d surely be late for if I took the long normal road. A really good football match.

I’ll leave you to judge which extreme I fall under. 

I took the shortcut. Halfway through I heard a rustle. I quickened my footsteps and soon was out in the open.

A sigh of sweet relief. I was so happy I made it out the alley safe and sound that it took me a full minute to calm down and notice I wasn’t alone. Someone was following me. Someone from the alley. I started walking faster. It kept up. I started jogging. It did the same, and of course I did the next sensible thing.

I ran like hell.

“Ahhhhhhh! Somebody help me!!!” I could hear a mad cackling sound as the creature chased me down the road, panting heavily and making wet, smacking sounds. I got to the big tipper garage. Bad luck, all the inhabitants had gone to pray. It was abandoned. I kept running. It kept chasing me.

I cut across the garage and came out under a streetlight, my house was just a few feet away. I could make it. I got to the door and pushed it. It was locked. I banged on the door, no one answered. “Where DID EVERYONE GO TO?”

It caught up with me. ‘It’ turned out to be a tall, thin haggard looking fellow with a week old beard and filthy prison clothes. He held a stick in one hand. And now that he had finally caught me, he stopped cackling and looked at me intently. Then licked his lips and took a step towards me.

Images and stories of prison rape flashed in my head and I let out a totally manly whimper.  He took the last few steps separating us with one giant stride and poked me in the chest with the stick. I might have wet myself at that moment. 

He said just one word. “Bloop.” And then he took off down the street, cackling and yelling like a madman.
The next morning, news spread around the neighborhood that the asylum not too far away had lost one of it’s inmates the night before. People were advised to lock their doors and keep their children close by. He did not have a history of violence, but when dealing with the insane, who could tell?

That afternoon, he was caught and the van passed the front of my house on its way back. He was sitting in the back, peeking out through iron bars set at face level when our eyes met. And then he winked.




I want you to do me a favour. Please imagine a forest, quiet and serene. Imagine little shrubs and insects working away at the flora. A small pink nose makes its way from a cluster of plants, followed by a small head on which hang long furry ears. A beautiful white rabbit. It catches a whiff of something it certainly doesn’t like and bolts. Something follows in hot pursuit. Forget about them.

Listen to the sounds of nature. Take in the earthy smell of freshly overturned soil. Bask in the warmth of sunbeams as they trace patterns on the forest floor. Listens to the chirps and croaks, the sights and sounds of things killing each other. Oh yes, things killing each other, that’s just the cycle of life. Rabbit and wolf. Plant and herbivore. Prey and predator.

Remember that rabbit we mentioned earlier? That would be me. And that wolf?  That would be the homicidal maniac behind me, intent on giving me an intimate introduction to his matchete, as he chases me across the abandoned alley, hooting and cackling with delight. It’s a big lonely place and everyone with sense is shut tight in one room or the other. It is afterall, 3 o’clock in the morning.

How did someone as smart and attractive as myself get into such a predicament like this, you’d ask? Well, honestly I don’t know, I mean, anyone with a brain cell would find me positively adorable so as you might have deduced, Dr. Loony back there might not have all shiny marbles.

It all started when, well it all starts from somewhere, no doubt some torturous childhood suffered by our idiot friend Mr. Hyde which drives him to do crazy, twisted, murderous stuff to people, but for me it started when I had the guts to come back from the dead. 

I was involved in an accident and rushed to the closest hospital which happened to be his. Fate, why?

The attempts to save my life failed and they “lost” me. Dr. Loony had written me off as dead and gone through pains to write me my very own death certificate, beautifully crafted! (I saw it beside me when I woke and took my sweet time to admire the calligraphy) But something happened and I woke up. It would seem my heart just thought “Ah, forget about this dead business, I’ve got stuff to do” and re-started because there is just no other way of describing it. It was quite a shock when D.L (lets just call him that shall we, Dr. Loony is a bit too long a name) came and found me, hale and hearty and very scared of where I was. 

Rather than declaring it a miracle and pampering me like any decent human being would, D.L somehow got it into his head that my return to life was some sort of “mistake” that had to be rectified!

How? You’d ask, I’m sure, since you’re smart and not at all killy (now a valid description of a psychopathic creature like D.L thank you very much) and I’m sure our resident madman would answer you in very much the same way as he answered me- with a smile and a promise to murder you. Of course, you’d take to your heels just as I did, and he would chase you the same way he’s chasing me right now, with a sharp machete he got from God-only-knows-where, cackling like a demented ghost all the while just exactly the way he is doing, right now!

Flying down the alley on the wings of the wind, I made a sharp turn as it came to an abrupt end and I burst out and into a wide street, cursing all the while my poorly made decision to resurrect in the wee hours of the day instead of sometime in the day where I’d be able to run and hide in the midst of people and the presence of witnesses would no doubt ruin the possibilities of me getting hacked to death with a machete. 

Feet going pitter-patter against the sidewalk, I made my way rapidly to the bus stop. There it was, a little distance away, and the trusty lamp was on, providing an island of light in the ocean of darkness around it. I was sure to find someone there, I thought, if I would ever find help at this time, it had to be here. But I got to the bus stop, and it was… empty.

I chanced a look behind me. In retrospect I think it wasn’t one of my smartest decisions, as I saw dear D.L had closed the gap a little. Honestly the yelp I made wasn’t so high pitched, and it was totally manly, and not at all like the sound made by a scared little girl.

But the subsequent fall was totally messy, with flailing arms and legs and clutching at empty air. I hit the ground, hard, and turned to my back only to see that my time was up. 

Sir Madman lifted his machete and yelled something I could not hear, probably something about how I was about to be ‘rectified’ and something else spilled light around him. He was a silhouette against a bright white background, and like our friend the rabbit, I was frozen to the spot. I watched as the machete got as high as it would, then began its downward arc, the few seconds required for the deed to be done stretching into what seemed like minutes as time slowed down…


The tall, dark and handsome idiot came out of nowhere. I had a second or two to a good look at him before the accident occurred.

But seriously. He did. He was like a migraine. Nothing there one moment and then- poof! Random person in the way of my fortunately-not-speeding bike. Of course he got knocked down.

I want you to understand something, I generally don’t go around hitting people with my motorcycle. Well, not every time. that one time with Steven was totally understandable, I was having a tough week. So hitting the fellow who probably had only one brain cell in that head of his was a bit of a new experience for me.

I got off the bike, knelt beside him to feel his pulse. Luckily for me, he was alive. It wasn’t really a hit, more like a brushing. 

“Hello sir?” “Can you hear me?”

The idiot just kept staring at me. Then he cracked a smile. And mumbled some nonsense.

“Sir? Can you speak out? I can’t hear you” more mumbling. I brought my head closer to hear what was been said. The scene was so melodramatic, I half expected rainfall and Indian people dancing on the streets. What? I have an active imagination!

“I said” a deep intake of breath “can I have your number?”

Of all the things in the world! I was so shocked it took me a minute to recognize the background noise threatening to split my eardrums as the melancholic wail of an ambulance siren. Someone must have called 911 and I know I didn’t do it. From the look of things, I don’t think he did either. Nice to know there are still some good Samaritans in this country.

“Seriously. I’d like to see you again. Preferably soon.” His voice was stronger. He was probably fine, no problem. I tore out a sheet of paper and scribbled my number on it. I have no idea why I did that- but boy, am I glad I did.

The paramedics came and the rest of the morning was lost in a whirl of questions and paperwork as he was taken to a hospital and policemen interrogated me to find out what happened. Of course I told them it was  simple accident and since no major damage was done, I was let off with a stiff warning.

I had just gotten home and taken off my helmet. I was crossing the parlor on the way to the bathroom when my phone rang.


“Hi. I’m Ab.” (Pronounced “aibee” two syllables)

“Ab? I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name. I think you have a wrong nu-”

“No wait! You knocked me down this morning!”

“Oh. You. Ab- that’s a weird name”

“It’s short for Abraham. What do you say to lunch around… Say 7:45?”

“It’s a few minutes after six.”

“Good. You’ll have an hour to get ready.”

“Ookay. So if I decide to see you by 7:45, where do we meet? Or are you psychic as well as annoying?”

Laughter breezed out softly from the other side. I decided I liked the sound of it. I also liked the way he was decisive and even slightly manipulative. Showed he was smart.

I like smart people.



“I said, you should text me your address and I’d come pick you up”

“Alright.” The line went dead and I quickly texted him my address. Then fretting over the amazingly stupid thing I had just done, I stalked off in a black mood to find something halfway decent to wear to a date. You know, in for a penny, in for a pound.
At exactly 7:45pm I heard a knock on my front door. Now understand, it’s not like I was waiting for or anticipating his arrival. And if my eyes happened to turn in the general direction of the clock in my parlor it was not because I was checking time. I had a totally attractive wall clock. Fantastic work of art. You can’t blame me for appreciating art now can you?
I opened the door and there he was, Mr. Roadkill, in the same office clothes I last saw him in. But they were neat and clean, and he had obviously made an attempt at grooming himself after our encounter.

He sucked in a lungful of air.


“I’m glad you knocked me down this morning. Come with me?” He offered his arm.

Wow, a gentleman too? Well you can’t expect me to say no, can you? I mean it would be totally rude, considering.

So I took his arm and we left, making our way to his car where it was parked, surrounded by the soft velvety darkness of night.