The day he left...

I had a very strange dream the other night, which resultyed in my coming up with this little... Story.
I am not exactly sure where i9t is going or anything but I really felt I needed to write it.

It is about a girl, and her story of what happened to her brother who went missing when she was younger.

Im not a hundred percent sure what the rating should be as the theme may be a little "mature" later on... I am reallly not sure yet. So up to you I guess.


5. Alice

In small villages like the one I live, you only get the most basic requirements in them. You get the park, doctors, police and odd few shops etc... But whoever founded our town (According to history a man called Sir Thomas Jones who came over looking for a place to bring up his family.) must of felt the plans did not need a Psychiatrist. In school our teacher says that's because in those days, nobody had the knowledge about mental illness etc, and did not even know how to help them. A whole load of superstition surrounded those few people in the village who mumbled to themselves or did things a bit different... Some called it the work of the devil, and some felt sorry for them. The ideas of devilry really gripped the people then, and ideas of what would now be illegal were carried out to rid them of all of those "bad spirits"

Medical research progressed and gradually they grew to realize that it was not actually anything to do with moral standing etc that caused mental illness... Real treatments and investigations began, but still little was known.


 When they first told me I would be starting "treatment" My mind conjured up all the sickening images from late night films of torture and people trying to cure the patients, but killing them in the process. 

The answer to my towns lack of a psychiatrist was actually nothing like what my mind thought.

I got sent to Alice, a local woman who worked in a normal boring job in the day but as she had completed a psychology  behavior and counselling course over a few years... She was the best our small place could offer when my parents refused to send me away or drive me to the city every other day. 

So I met with Alice in her house every other day instead. Where we sat down and she offered me cookies and milk to create a "more relaxing environment in which we can both feel more comfortable." I liked her house, it was what you might call funky and modern. The kind of swirling patterns and colors you might expect to find in an artists house. Alice herself was no artist she told me as I examined a large canvas depicting several splashes of color when I first started my sessions, but her sister was really into modern art. 

"I get given all her junk when she has done with it!" she laughed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as she wandered over to where I stood. 

When we eventually sat down, and she had tossed her pointed black heels under the sofa, she sighed deeply, as though she too was as unsure of what we did next. 

"Do you... Erm, like to... Draw?" she asked after a moment or so of silence which was undoubtedly awkward for her, though rather pleasant for me after having the police and my parents badgering me for days on end. I shrugged, not really wanting to break the lovely silence. Nervously, she pulled a bag out from the side of her chair. A crisp new bag from Tesco.

"I saw on your records that your teacher for art was proud of your still life..."She began, handing it to me. "Think of it as a late birthday present." I opened the bag, peering inside where a large A3 sketch pad sat. A packet of artist pencils and a fancy rubber. 

"I want you to draw for me... To draw... Anything that confuses you... Or just anything you feel really..." Another pregnant pause in which I stroked the fresh white pages of the pad gently. "Will you... Do that Jodie?" she asked. I looked up, into her face framed by her hair which had fallen forwards once more as she sat down. 

i thought of how everything confused me, how strange some things seemed to me... I thought of how much I enjoyed painting.



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