This is just fiction. What goes on in the head of a madman trapped in an asylum’s solitary confinement. Although It's basically an extended version of something I came up with a year ago. IDK, I think it was good so it deserved more of an extended internal monologue. I just haven't found good reddit prompts I can happily work with again so I'm getting fiction inspiration from whatever piques my interest these days
I wonder if people ever noticed how fearsome silence and white light actually were. Silence in nature would always lead to a storm. As they say, there’s always a calm before the storm. Silence in a person leads to fear that something could be wrong, and silence in one's surroundings leads to madness. It was far too late for me to realize such things. Far far too late.
For the longest time, I always thought that the dark was something to be terrified of because anything could happen in the dark. In a minute or two, you could lose your life in the darkness. You could become something you thought you couldn’t be in the dark
That much was something I was fully aware of after having seen so many deaths in the dead of the night. And at this point, who’s to say that one of those deaths wasn’t caused by my own hands? After all, I wouldn’t be stuck in solitary confinement if I hadn’t committed something so grave. I can’t remember if I did though… I’ve been stuck in this room for so long now that everything that runs in my head had been muddled. All I remember was that I lead a miserable life of fearing the dark cabinet my mother had locked me in while I was growing up. I thought that was the worst place to ever exist in this world.
For the longest time, I initially feared the words “Get in the cabinet” Actually, anything that mentioned cabinet. It stuck to me for so long… But in truth, what I should have feared were the words “Take him to solitary confinement”
My first time in this forsaken asylum, I took lightly the idea of solitary confinement because I was sure it wouldn’t be so different from the cabinet. But when someone placed this constraint over my arms and torso, I knew it was far from that cabinet.
I was pushed into this white room that seemed so boundless, yet just a few paces around and you would bump into a wall. For a few hours in there, I thought I would survive the three-day sentence of being trapped in there. Another thing I never accounted for. I didn’t think I would lose my perception of time so badly in that white room. Now I understood why white flags were used to surrender.
I've only come to see that it shouldn't have been darkness and emptiness that should be feared but the blinding white of silence. At least in the dark, you see nothing but you could still hope that something would be there. There's still little hope that can motivate you enough to try to search for something. But in a white silent room, you see everything, and the agonizing knowledge that nothing is there and that no one will hear you no matter how hard you scream or cry will always be on the back of your mind. It isn’t in the darkness that you should feel hopeless, no. It’s in the white light. The silence will consume you and leave you to your own thoughts where the most gruesome of tortures occur. One quite comparable to a hundred demons whispering in your head. After just a few hours of being stuck here, I already knew that when my thoughts weren’t my own anymore, my madness truly began.