Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Asylum Stay
This is Asylum Stay, rewritten. I am so sorry that I had to do this, but the writing was awful. I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me? I own nothing
A thunder-storm was brewing over Belleville and the surrounding areas. A loud crack of thunder sliced the silence. Most of the people would find themselves traveling to work and school during the middle of a downpour. Lovely thing for 5 A.M., don't you agree?
And now, I take you to the scene of our miserable story, an Asylum located just outside the city limits. It looks formidable, more like a prison than a place for the mentally ill persons. The bricks look weathered and beaten, corrosion from the years of acid rain, punishing winds, and heavy snow apparent. The once rusty color had faded off to a dull brown, the previously white grout now a grayish yellowed color.
These walls extended 15 feet up. And as though the people who'd created this place had thought there might be someone super-human enough to jump the walls, the tops of these walls were covered in broken glass and metal fragments. As if this weren't enough, a double layer of barbed wire completed the ensemble.
Overhead, the lightening cracked again, as if warning of impending doom. That wouldn't be so far from the truth, as it was going to be one of the worst storms this year. Even if the lightening managed to destroy the asylum, it would be a blessing for most of the inmates. You see my darling readers, this asylum was extremely cruel.
The people were treated as guinea pigs, and the orderlies reigned supreme. Even though it was the 21st century, ancient 'cures' were resurrected, as though they were the latest and greatest. Many inmates were over-medicated, and as a result, they became extremely psychotic. All you needed out in the real world was one false step and you'd be thrown into the asylum. This was because a few months ago, the president had made a speech about the rising crime, and that there was a sharp hike in the death rates.
Of course, this was interpreted by the rest of the country as “If they do something wrong, let's send them to the asylum instead of jail. If you even think that a kid might be thinking of suicide, let's lock him up too. If someone is dangerous to the rest of the public, or if they seem the slightest bit dangerous to the public, let's lock em up too!”
This had lead to millions being locked up across the country, for something as simple as having a scratch on their arm, or looking at someone the wrong way. The public asylums, as well as the private ones, were overflowing, yet more people arrived every single day. In the country, there was not one asylum which had a free room.
Why is this, do you ask? This is because in light of the speeches made, they felt that keeping people there for a few days was not enough. After all, they get out, and they go do the same thing, or worse, again. So the new policy was that they kept the patients there, over-medicating them, for an indefinite amount of time. And when the patient finally acted 'normal', they'd have to stay another month or two to prove it wasn't just a phase to get out quick.
And Belleville's public asylum was no different from the rest of them. In fact, they were all the same. Lamenting it would be no use. Many on the outside had tried, only to end up in there alongside the ones they'd tried to free. They'd petitioned, rallied, marched, and more. The only response they ever got to this was that the ones in the Asylum were there for a reason.
But the thing was, most of the people in there weren't in there for a reason at all. But nobody cared. As yet. So now, it was up to the ones who still cared, both inside and out, even though they were just average citizens, to do something about it. And they would.
Above us, the storm breaks. Heavy drops of water splash down, coating everything in an icy water. It doesn't seem to be acid rain. This time. Within a few moments, the bricks turn to a dark color, the color of drying blood. The ground beneath our feet, as weed-choked as it is, turns muddy, and slushy. As we move our feet, they stick, pulling free with a sucking noise.
A search light from one of the many guard towers sweep towards us, the bluish white blinding in the otherwise darkness. In some of the upstairs rooms, dim lights flicker on. Thunder claps overhead. As if in echo, a piercing scream is hear from the asylum. Is this just fear of a storm, or is this because of the sinister things going on inside that small patch of hell on earth?
I don't have any way to tell you, because I'm not in there myself. But here's what I can tell you. There's going to be some changes around here. Things are going to change, for the better this time. With any luck, I'll be here to witness it. Will you?
A thunder-storm was brewing over Belleville and the surrounding areas. A loud crack of thunder sliced the silence. Most of the people would find themselves traveling to work and school during the middle of a downpour. Lovely thing for 5 A.M., don't you agree?
And now, I take you to the scene of our miserable story, an Asylum located just outside the city limits. It looks formidable, more like a prison than a place for the mentally ill persons. The bricks look weathered and beaten, corrosion from the years of acid rain, punishing winds, and heavy snow apparent. The once rusty color had faded off to a dull brown, the previously white grout now a grayish yellowed color.
These walls extended 15 feet up. And as though the people who'd created this place had thought there might be someone super-human enough to jump the walls, the tops of these walls were covered in broken glass and metal fragments. As if this weren't enough, a double layer of barbed wire completed the ensemble.
Overhead, the lightening cracked again, as if warning of impending doom. That wouldn't be so far from the truth, as it was going to be one of the worst storms this year. Even if the lightening managed to destroy the asylum, it would be a blessing for most of the inmates. You see my darling readers, this asylum was extremely cruel.
The people were treated as guinea pigs, and the orderlies reigned supreme. Even though it was the 21st century, ancient 'cures' were resurrected, as though they were the latest and greatest. Many inmates were over-medicated, and as a result, they became extremely psychotic. All you needed out in the real world was one false step and you'd be thrown into the asylum. This was because a few months ago, the president had made a speech about the rising crime, and that there was a sharp hike in the death rates.
Of course, this was interpreted by the rest of the country as “If they do something wrong, let's send them to the asylum instead of jail. If you even think that a kid might be thinking of suicide, let's lock him up too. If someone is dangerous to the rest of the public, or if they seem the slightest bit dangerous to the public, let's lock em up too!”
This had lead to millions being locked up across the country, for something as simple as having a scratch on their arm, or looking at someone the wrong way. The public asylums, as well as the private ones, were overflowing, yet more people arrived every single day. In the country, there was not one asylum which had a free room.
Why is this, do you ask? This is because in light of the speeches made, they felt that keeping people there for a few days was not enough. After all, they get out, and they go do the same thing, or worse, again. So the new policy was that they kept the patients there, over-medicating them, for an indefinite amount of time. And when the patient finally acted 'normal', they'd have to stay another month or two to prove it wasn't just a phase to get out quick.
And Belleville's public asylum was no different from the rest of them. In fact, they were all the same. Lamenting it would be no use. Many on the outside had tried, only to end up in there alongside the ones they'd tried to free. They'd petitioned, rallied, marched, and more. The only response they ever got to this was that the ones in the Asylum were there for a reason.
But the thing was, most of the people in there weren't in there for a reason at all. But nobody cared. As yet. So now, it was up to the ones who still cared, both inside and out, even though they were just average citizens, to do something about it. And they would.
Above us, the storm breaks. Heavy drops of water splash down, coating everything in an icy water. It doesn't seem to be acid rain. This time. Within a few moments, the bricks turn to a dark color, the color of drying blood. The ground beneath our feet, as weed-choked as it is, turns muddy, and slushy. As we move our feet, they stick, pulling free with a sucking noise.
A search light from one of the many guard towers sweep towards us, the bluish white blinding in the otherwise darkness. In some of the upstairs rooms, dim lights flicker on. Thunder claps overhead. As if in echo, a piercing scream is hear from the asylum. Is this just fear of a storm, or is this because of the sinister things going on inside that small patch of hell on earth?
I don't have any way to tell you, because I'm not in there myself. But here's what I can tell you. There's going to be some changes around here. Things are going to change, for the better this time. With any luck, I'll be here to witness it. Will you?
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