A Strange Kind of Black

A STRANGE KIND OF BLACK

A SHORT STORY BY

NAM SOHANTA

coolnam@btinternet.com

(c) Copyright Nam Sohanta 2000

'There you are. You'll be fine now dear,' said the smiling nurse making
a knot on the bandage.

Clive looked at his bandaged arm, touched his sore nose, and groaned
deeply. 'I've got to get out of here,' he said, 'before this place
kills me.'

The door opened. Tom, the warden, stepped into the room. 'How is he
nurse?'

'Moaning as usual, but otherwise well.'

'Well enough to come to the meeting?'

'Sure.'

'Come on Clive. The others will be waiting.'

Tom led Clive through the sky-blue corridors of the Northern Bramly
Psychiatric Disorders Clinic. The buildings were gloomily silent, save
for Tom's footsteps and an occasional high-pitched laughter from some
far-off cell.

Tom and Clive entered a small brightly-lit room with a window offering
a view across the grounds to the hills beyond. Two men sat facing the
front, their faces resigned into expressions of abject boredom.

Clive sat and folded his arms taking on the mood of the room like an
overcoat.

'Have a pleasant meeting gentlemen,' said the warden stepping out. The
others waited in silence.

The door opened: in stepped Joshua Smith, a tall fair-haired man with
blue eyes and a sincere smile. 'Sorry I'm late,' he said. He took a
seat facing the three men. 'Now, where shall we begin.' He glanced at
Clive and frowned. 'Oh Clive! What happened?'

Clive shook his head. 'That madman Psycho Sam attacked me! I've got to
get out of this stinking hole.'

A man sitting next to Clive smaned. 'Aren't you religious freaks
supposed to forgive?'

Clive's face turned red. 'Now listen Alan! I am not a freak. Got it! A
freak is someone like you, always going on about the government. That's
nothing when people like Psycho Sam are being possessed by the
Devil.'

Alan groaned, hiding his head in his hands.

'That's right,' continued Clive, 'you heard right. This is the Devil's
work! You hear me! Beelzebub walks these very corridors. He's here,
mark my words. It says so in the Bible. Accept the Lord now, Alan.
There is still a chance you can be saved.'

'Thanks for your input,' said Nigel, the third man. 'But for now, shut
the fuck up, man.' He ran a hand through dark shoulder-length hair.
'See Clive, the Bible's a work of fiction, man--it's been proved. It's
full of contradictions and anomalies. Man, you wanna know where God
is?' He pointed to the hills. 'That's where God is. In the hills and
forests, in nature, man. He is nature. He doesn't need to create fear
with this Devil stuff. So chill out, man. Loosen up a bit. Go with the
flow.'

Clive gripped the chair tightly and spoke through his teeth. 'Do you
hear that! That's the Devil speaking. I won't hear it. I won't listen
to this blasphemy. Come the Apocalypse you men will be judged and you
will burn. You hear me. You men will burn in Hell.'

'Crap,' said Alan, spitting the word out like venom. 'It's rubbish like
that that keeps people down. Social engineering. If the truth were
known--that there is no God--then the comrades would revolt. See? The
only truths are this fascist government that's keeping control over
everybody. Big Brother and all that. That's reality, not some
superstitious nonsense invented thousands of years ago. Come the
revolution this government will be up against the wall. You'll see,
along with their Secret Police.'

'Oh God!' said Nigel, 'not the Secret Police again.'

Alan turned an angry stare at Nigel. 'Eh! You don't know. They could be
anywhere. So piss off, you aging hippy, and go hug some trees.'

Nigel emitted a short burst of laughter. 'Mad. Bloody barmy, that's
what you are, Alan. And you're not much better Clive. Bloody loonies,
the pair of you. Comrade bloody Alan and Saint fucking Clive.'

'Eh listen!' said Alan. 'They're watching your every bloody move, the
Secret Police. There's at least half-a-dozen in this place. I reckon
the janitor's one of them.'

'The janitor!' cried Nigel. 'You think he's Secret Police, man! Is he
bollocks!' He turned to face the window. 'Did you see that. There's a
butterfly out there with big black wings. A strange kind of black. I
think it's an omen--you know--like a raven, except not a raven but a
butterfly, man.'

'What the hell are you on about now, you pitiful man?' said Alan.

'I know one thing, man,' said Nigel, 'if the janitor's Secret Police
then I'm Michael Jackson's lovechild. Sure he's a little spaced out,
but then aren't we all, man. I guess it's something they put in the
water in this place. Anyway, if the janitor had led a simple life, been
a vegetarian and meditated and all that instead of getting off his
fucking head on drink and drugs all the time he'd be a different person
now, man.'

'It's the Devil's work,' said Clive, suddenly perking up. 'The Beast
has controlled his life. I can purge Satan from his soul. You hear me.
I am empowered by the Lord. It will be painful but it will save him
from eternity roasting in the fires of Hell.'

The others groaned, again.

Clive continued undeterred. 'You people must be alert. Lose your
concentration for a moment and He'll be in there, quick as a flash.
I've seen it with my own eyes. Vile, wicked people on the streets of
Birmingham, London, Glasgow. Prostitutes, gamblers, drug-dealers,
they'll all go to Hell. You hear me.'

Alan shook his head. 'Nah mate. It's the government that supplies
drug-dealers, not the Devil.'

'What?' said Nigel.

'Common bloody knowledge, ain't it,' said Alan. 'Look that's how they
control the masses. As long as the brothers are zonked out of their
brains they're not gonna start any bloody revolutions are they?'

They all paused to consider this revelation until a short quiet cough
made them look to the front.

'Look,' said Joshua, who had sat waiting patiently, 'could we all just
get back to the point.'

'It's gone,' said Nigel.

'Oh God, what's gone?' said Alan.

'The butterfly,' said Nigel. 'It changed into a swan and flew off. A
big black swan. Flew off, just like that.'

The others stared at him in silence.

'Well don't you see,' cried Nigel. 'It means we're ok, man. The dangers
gone. We can get back to work.'

'About time to,' said Alan.

They turned to face Joshua.

Nigel looked through some papers in his hand. 'Now then Mr... er,
Joshua Smith. We've considered your application for release and have
decided that on this occasion you are unsuccessful. Thank you for your
time.'

The three men began collecting their papers and briefcases.

A nurse came in to escort Joshua Smith away. She returned a few minutes
later.

Clive said, 'Ok nurse, send the next one in. That last one was a real
nutter.'