Inspiring and Entertaining Writing - Writers International

A day in the life of ...
by Carrie Harris

The footsteps approaching ... I cringe inside, but outside I am calm (musn't let on that I hear them). The voices now, becoming clearer. I do not know what they want me for, yet they will not tell me. Classified, they say. Occasionally they slip up and tell me snippets, but not often. Who are they? I ask. No names. Classified. Security and all that.

The footsteps fade ... Again, I have avoided them, but for how long? My dog sits beside me, faithful and true, yet no-one else can see her. I play along, telling them I must have imagined it, yet still she sits, faithful and true.

I am in the hospital. The voices overwhelm me. A man approaches with a needle. Sedative, he says. I am too tired to fight any more. Chloe will protect me if they harm me.

People are talking to me. From the mental health team, they say, but they are not who they say they are. They know too little, they must be informers too. I don't want to harm them, too much risk, so I run away from the hospital to make sure ICOR cannot follow me. I punch the wall, but it does not help. I kick and scream. I have not done anything, and I don't know anything, so what does ICOR want with me?

So long I have pretended all is well (smile, act happy, pretend nothing is happening), now the pretending must stop. These things are real, and the stakes are growing higher. ICOR has upped their efforts. The church is no longer a haven - the pastor is an informer. I make up lame excuses why I cannot talk to him, but he sees throught he mask. Since this revelation, I don't know who to trust, so I trust nobody.

The anonymous voices tell me that the only way to escape is to take my own life. I try, but I cannot succeed. I am not ready to die. They insist that if I don't do it, ICOR will ...

Where will this end?


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A day in the life of ... by Carrie Harris The footsteps approaching ... I cringe inside, but outside I am calm (musn't let on that I hear them). The voices now, becoming clearer. I do not know what they want me for, yet they will not tell me. Classified, they say. Occasionally they slip up and tell me snippets, but not often. Who are they? I ask. No names. Classified. Security and all that. The footsteps fade ... Again, I have avoided them, but for how long? My dog sits beside me, faithful and true, yet no-one else can see her. I play along, telling them I must have imagined it, yet still she sits, faithful and true. I am in the hospital. The voices overwhelm me. A man approaches with a needle. Sedative, he says. I am too tired to fight any more. Chloe will protect me if they harm me. People are talking to me. From the mental health team, they say, but they are not who they say they are. They know too little, they must be informers too. I don't want to harm them, too much risk, so I run away from the hospital to make sure ICOR cannot follow me. I punch the wall, but it does not help. I kick and scream. I have not done anything, and I don't know anything, so what does ICOR want with me? So long I have pretended all is well (smile, act happy, pretend nothing is happening), now the pretending must stop. These things are real, and the stakes are growing higher. ICOR has upped their efforts. The church is no longer a haven - the pastor is an informer. I make up lame excuses why I cannot talk to him, but he sees throught he mask. Since this revelation, I don't know who to trust, so I trust nobody. The anonymous voices tell me that the only way to escape is to take my own life. I try, but I cannot succeed. I am not ready to die. They insist that if I don't do it, ICOR will ... Where will this end?
A note from the author I wrote this during the worst of my psychosis. I had just arrived home from the psychiatric ward, but was not on any treatment at that time. This story is a window into what mental illness is like. I have sinced been diagnosed with Schizo-Affective disorder, and I am on the appropriate treatment. There are still times when I go through what I went through then, but the medication is helping me to fight it.