Through the Eyes of Madness

By Jude Blair

Through the Eyes of Madness is a collection of stories, both flash and short. There are no happy endings: no light in the dark.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jude Blair
• Release date: Feb 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310055621

Book preview

Through

The

Eyes

of

Madness

Jude Blair

Through the Eyes of Madness

Copyright 2014 Jude Blair

Published by Jude Blair at Smashwords

Contents

The House On Red Cedar Road

The Wife’s Tale

Come On Get Happy

Penelope’s Essay

Not-Human

Patience

DT’s In The Closet

The Long Man

Cannibals

Don’t Look

Grandpa’s Phonograph

Observing Fear

Sierra

Therapy

They Leave You Alone

The Long Man

The House on Red Cedar Road

There is something to be said for someone who has made their life in the city, surrounded by civilization. The city has an endless thrum: the dogs that bark, the freight trucks delivering their cargo to destinations unknown, the sirens at three in the morning. Yes, the city has a thrum that is uniquely human, and that thrum does not cease for want of sleep. It goes on (and on).

When one of the civilized persuasion reaches the decision that he/she has had enough of the human thrum, he/she must adjust to the thrum's absence, and he/she may or may not experience a deep longing (an unspeakable longing). One must adjust, or one may go mad.

So it was for me.

I had just finished my second novel, had it published, or rather, accepted for publication – with a very handsome advance, I might add – when I came to the conclusion that I would much prefer seclusion to the idea that I would no longer be able to walk the streets without being hassled by frenzied fans. Though the idea was a trifle flattering, I am a pessimist, therefore my understanding of discomfort is intimate. My wife, of course, suggested that I had taken leave of all sense and reason.

Well, I told her, "if I want that sort of attention, I may as well take on acting next. My grandmother, may her spirit be at rest, would be pleased."

Jen rolled her eyes, and explained to me that my ego was already getting too expansive for our bedroom. Not in so many words, of course. Jen's tongue was never so cultured, unless you count the underbelly of the city cultured. Hmmph!

Don't be facetious, dear, I told her, using my long suffering tone.

I have suffered so long, you understand . . .

That had been the end of her feeble attempts to keep me bound in suburbia.

For a time.

Jen, you must understand by now, was a city girl – she was born in a city, she was raised in a city, and, if she had things her way, she would die in a city. Needless to say, when I began my search for seclusion, the woman would not sojourn with me.

I spent little over a week browsing the internet for homes that would, as the realtor told me, fit my parameters. Then, I decided