You Might as Well Go Mad

“How is the patient?” the detective in a brown duster asked the asylum doctor, concerned about the patient’s sanity. They were standing by a closed door in a very long hallway, leading to a room which appeared have blankets covering the entire room, with the exception of the door. There was a man strapped in a straitjacket, his arms wrapped around his body, as he rocked his body back and forth on the floor by a corner in the room, sobbing heavily and very loudly. The man looked ruined, as if he hadn’t taken a shower in days, weeks, even months.

“Not well, Detective Howard. Not well,” the asylum doctor answered, looking at the information on her clipboard about the patient, Nathan Smith. “He’s getting worse each day. It would be a very bad idea for you to try to talk to him, even talking some sense and logic into him.”

“Why not, Doctor?” Detective Howard asked, leaning in closer to the doctor.

“He…” the doctor paused for a moment. Thunder boomed outside the asylum as lightning flashed across the dark, cloudy sky. “…killed several people, disfiguring their faces in the process.” She seemed even more disturbed after her brief explanation.

“Let me guess,” Detective Howard smirked, disturbed by the doctor’s description as well, “he was putting them ‘out of their misery’.” He had solved a variety of crimes; homicide, suicide, arson, manslaughter, both intentionally and unintentionally, burglarly, and fraud. He had dealt with a dose of the crazies. He figured that this would be no different. “What made him mad, then?”

“He claimed that he was abducted by aliens,” the doctor answered, taking off her glasses as she cleaned the lenses.

“Maybe I can talk to him, to see if I could find out what really happened,” said Detective Howard.

“It’s your funeral, Detective,” the doctor responded as she unlocked and opened the door with one of the keys. Then, Detective Howard entered the room, and the door closed behind him.

The man, Nathan Smith, stopped sobbing as he saw the detective in the room. He’s not insane, it’s all true. He’s not insane, it’s all true. He’s not insane, it’s all true. He’s not insane, it’s all true. He’s not insane, it’s all true, Nathan repeated in his head, referring to himself in third-person. “So, care to hear a story or two?” he asked, grinning devilishly, his mood suddenly changed, which disturbed the seasoned detective.

“I would say so,” the detective answered, pulling his recorder out of his duster as he started transcribing the conversation. “Though I would have to ask you something, if you don’t mind: Why didn’t they strap you to a table? Did you try to attack your restrainers?”

“Yes, he did,” Nathan answered, laughing manically, still referring to himself in third-person, his voice suddenly sounded very high. “And it never tasted so good in his LIFE!”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Detective Howard asked coldly, getting very impatient with Nathan.

“Ah, of course! Then he shall!”

* * * * *

Not too long ago…

It began with sweet, little Nathan driving in his fancy, big car, driving on his way home from hard, grueling work. It was very dark and very late at night, alone on the highway. That was a very bad idea. Oh yes, it is. But on the other hand, it sounded like a good time for murder and rape and…stuff! Yeah, stuff, if you ask him!

* * * * *

“I am going to regret this,” Detective Howard muttered to himself softly so Nathan wouldn’t hear him.

* * * * *

But then, there was a flash of light, knocking out poor little, sweet, innocent Nathan! But when he woke up, he was in a very, very strange and bad place. Oh, yes it is! He could see it, he could feel it, and he could smell the very bad…air…gas…thing in his prison. His home. Or whatever you desire to call his place. But there were other people on the alien ship, he thought. At first, it sounded horrifying with so many screams coming from EVERYWHERE, but later on, he could tolerate it, like a lullaby, a symphony, an orchestra, as they continued reaching to his ears. So he began screaming along with the other people.

But then, these aliens, two and only two, either his captives, or perhaps his saviors from his inevitable doom, entered the room. He could not describe them, or even the ship. How would a simple human being describe something that would be alien, inhuman, and horrifying? You might as well go mad from it.

* * * * *

“…and that what made you what you are right now?” Detective Howard asked. “Is there more to it?”

“Yes in fact. Shall I go on?” Nathan asked, his voice no longer-high pitched.

“If…you must. I’m already regretting this.”

“No turning back now, Detective!”

* * * * *

These aliens talked to each other, or what it would look like, with their hand-like…things! It looked like they were using their own version of the sign language—

* * * * *

“Wait, I thought that describing what these aliens are, even a portion of it, could at least disturb me,” Detective Howard pointed out, shaking his head. “So why hasn’t this portion made me even mildly mad?”

“That was the only thing he could describe,” Nathan answered.

* * * * *

Anyway, they waved their hand-like things in so many positions that it was impossible for a human to do, lest they could break their bones on their hands. But he can hear what it sounded like bones breaking from these aliens’ hands, but at the same time, it…healed. He could not describe how, but it just does. And he does not care, no he doesn’t.

Then, one of the aliens looked at him directly at his eyes, its face so horrifying that it nearly scared him to death, but instead passed out. He does not know how he survived that. Was it luck? Were the aliens merciful at that moment? Was it God, or any other supernatural being out there in the universe? He cannot be so certain.

Unfortunately, when he woke up, he found himself strapped to what appeared to be some sort of table, with…rope-like things attached to the flesh on his wrists and his ankles. He was suddenly naked, not daring to look at himself. He screamed for help, to save himself from this misery, this torture. but it was no use. He panicked, and panicked and panicked and panicked. AND. YET. HE. STILL. PANICKED.

He didn’t starve for food, he didn’t thirst for water, and he didn’t breathe for the precious air. He does not know why, but it could involve some fancy, strange science from us humans. But does it also apply to these aliens, or was it some sort of magic?

But then, more of these alien freaks entered this torture room, holding some sort of tool. As he said earlier, he could only give out little description of them. One of ‘em approached him, and used this tool to drill onto his brain. He screamed, just like the rest. Just like the rest.

When he woke up, he found himself in the middle of a big, big city, soaked in blood. Not only that, he had written the strangest and happiest thing he had ever read. So, he grabbed a crowbar, and went on a murderous rampage, and ate some flesh in the process. And IT. WAS. GLORIOUS!

The end.

* * * * *

Detective Howard paused for a moment, disturbed by Nathan’s story. Even for him, that man was clearly a madman. He didn’t even bother to stop recording.

“So…are you here to free me?” Nathan asked gleefully.

“No,” Detective Howard answered as he pressed a button on his recorder. He was done with this. “No, I’m not. I pray that the doctors here will take good care of you.”

“They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you! They’ll be out to get you!” Nathan mocked Detective Howard, laughing manically afterwards.

The detective ignored Nathan as the asylum doctor opened the door, and closed it when the detective exited the room. “I told you so,” the doctor spoke.

“I know,” Detective Howard replied, looking down at the floor. “Putting Nathan out of his misery would be the most humane thing he would receive right now.”

“I’m aware of that, Detective,” said the doctor.

“Then why haven’t you?” Detective Howard asked, staring coldly at her.

“We tried. Somehow, he’s still alive.”

“How’s that possible?”

“He was just very durable,” the doctor answered. “I would recommend you if you just go home.”

“That’s what I’m about to do,” Detective Howard replied as he and the doctor walked down the hallway. They can still hear Nathan laughing, causing such disruption among the other patients. “I’ll send you a copy, if I can.”

A few hours later…

It continued to rain as Detective Howard drove down the highway in his light tan car. Lightning flashed across the sky by the mountain as he could hear the booming of the thunder. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Nathan told him. “You might as well go mad,” Howard remembered one of the things Nathan said to him. It was just like some of those Lovecraftian stories involving a similar situation he was in. A madman, someone asking the questions to the madman, like Detective Howard, asking, and the madman told the story of what ‘really’ happened.

“Then…what comes next?” the detective asked himself in his head. He knew it had been a while since he last read one of Lovecraft’s stories. He pulled out his recorder from his duster, and pressed the ‘Play’ button. All he could hear from the recorder was static. Was his recorder broken?

“Oh, godda—,” Detective Howard swore, but before he could finish, he got knocked out by a flash of light. Perhaps it was the same one that took Nathan. Oh well, he might as well go mad from his encounter of the fourth kind.