“Potions [said he] have a great efficacy in confounding right and wrong, but are not able to invert the condition of human nature; I will persecute you with curses; and execrating detestation is not to be expiated by any victim. Moreover, when doomed to death I shall have expired, I will attend you as a nocturnal fury; and, a ghost, I will attack your faces with my hooked talons (for such is the power of those divinities, the Manes), and, brooding upon your restless breasts, I will deprive you of repose by terror. The mob, from village to village, assaulting you on every side with stones, shall demolish you filthy hags. Finally, the wolves and Esquiline vultures shall scatter abroad your unburied limbs. Nor shall this spectacle escape the observation of my parents, who, alas! must survive me.”
-Horace, 1st Century BC.
“You’re right,” Tameer responds. “It took me a while to see that. The doctor said I can come home tomorrow.” He covets the corded phone. Who determines sanity anyway? Abbey was real. We had a daughter. We had a daughter. Why doesn’t anyone remember them? Why can’t I remember my daughter’s name? Tameer pretends to listen, calculating his response. “That’s right, three months, six days and nine hours—Nine hours when I leave, I mean. Well I—I—you know…” He sighs, and presses himself closer to the wall. “Yeah, promethazine— Really? —Yea, Seroquel, Lithium and Xanax.” Tameer glances over his shoulder.
Ramos sits with his knees pressed to his chest. His bulging eyes, small pupils and disheveled. Ramos’ upper lip is partially chewed off. God only knows what his life was like, or what lead him to the asylum. Whatever the case maybe, Ramos is where he belongs.
Tameer smiles. The last two months taught him not to anger men incapable of speech. “Ramos? What’s going on, buddy?”
His apron and fuzzy slippers are drenched in sweat. “Bla-Ha-heh-ha-ha!” Ramos squeals. “Ate. She ate. Face. Face. Face!” He rocks violently, then clasps his hands together. Ramos’ grin gives Tameer goosebumps.
Tameer breaks eye contact. He examines his laminated bracelet. There’s a shadow lurking in the room. “Yeah, Sabine. Thanks,” Tameer responds into the phone. He clears his throat. “So what. It’s a courtesy to me. I don’t want to tell him— Wha—What do you mean why? —Why? Because I can’t lose my jo—I’m telling you, I don’t be— Yeah, so the fu—”
“Hey,” Chester, a formidable guard, interrupts. He rolls his newspaper, waiting for an opportunity to express his dominance without repercussions. “Calm down, Mr. Odev. Tomorrow afternoon, right?” Chester smirks. “You don’t want to extend your stay.”
“Look, Sabine, I gotta go. Just be here before 9 am, please—Yeah. Ok. Ok—Thank you.” He places the rotary phone on its carriage. Tameer fingers through a bookshelf. There’s gotta be something here to pass the time. He pulls a white book with a man painted on the cover. “Forrest Gump. I can’t wait to see the movie when I get out of here,” he mutters. Tameer shuffles back to his bed: an old, worn mattress on metal frame with frayed sheets. He tries to push Abigail from his mind. The lights in his room flicker. Rotten eggs and burning rubber attack Tameer’s nostrils. His body stiffens. “Hey!” he tries to scream, but he’s paralyzed. It’s happening again. The shadows are coming.
Let's suppose you land your dream job.
Imagine that you spend up to 12 hours a day working.
Your efforts have the effect you've always known they would:
People love you, and more importantly, they love that you do what you do because you're great at it.
You make a difference in countless lives one way or another.
You found your passion, your purpose, and your happiness.
Naturally, your heart would implode if you did anything else, right?
You continue to pound the pavement day in and day out because there's nothing more rewarding than what you do.
However, there's a catch!
Your efforts, loved and appreciated as they be:
Don't allow you to afford getting to and from work
Don't allow you to keep your internet functioning
Don't allow you to pay your cellphone bill
Don't allow you to keep your refrigerator running
Don't allow you to settle your hungry stomach
Don't allow you to bathe with hot water
The question then becomes: Would you continue doing your dream job?
But, wait! what about all of the people you affect? What about all of your accomplishments? What about your happiness?
I illustrate, write, and edit ALL of the AMAZING BNRM content by myself. I also run this AWESOME website, every page, and social media account by myself.
I don't know what you can afford.
I do know how to entertain you.
For Only $1.99 a month you allow me the privilege, honor and ability to give you the BEST entertainment POSSIBLE!
What membership includes:
- Access to each story's latest chapter, as they are posted
- More ways to enjoy the content, including chapters as individual PDFs
- Relevant Footnotes with links to relevant information, and the real-life events that inspired the content
- AD-FREE entertainment
- To say you were in on this before it becomes popular
Read "Caleb's Children"!
Your membership can maintain Tameer's sanity.
*Spoiler: Not really ( -_-) *
However! Membership CAN and WILL maintain your very sane craving for thrilling content! ( ^ o ^)
You'll have access to each chapter as they become available!
Just click that brooding button to the right!