Maggie's Biography

(A story for Creative Writing Score 100/100) They let her out and led her too her room. Little did they know it is too easy to create a weapon and pick a lock.

In the middle of the arid desert of Nevada, there is an asylum for deleterious people whom are incompatible with the real world. It is by far no mundane place. The castle-like structure makes it quite anachronistic to this time period. The beauty is intense.

 

Many people are oblivious to this anonymous yet aesthetic structure. Those who are aware, often censure what goes on inside. They disdain it immediately without empathy for those living on the inside of the walls. Only the most intrepid doctors get called upon to work within. These doctors must be conformists. When working with the often rancorous and impetuous patients, there is no digression with the rules. One must be full of compassion, even for certain things that aren’t easily understandable.

 

Among the many condescending patients, there is one so exemplary, one so impetuous, that all follow like a congregation. She is a clairvoyant named Maggie. She was a novice author before “it” happened. She held all of the prosperity that anyone could possibly want. She was beyond diligent, until that day.

Maggie was practicing abstinence from alcohol. She was receiving much adulation from her husband. They were inevitably happy. At her three week mark, the lovely duo decided to go out for a night of jubilation. There are many inconsequential events that I shall refrain from boring you with.

 

Maggie, being very parched, prudently asked the waitress for a glass of water. Her husband though, provocatively and drunkenly got her to have some whiskey. She thought she was resilient enough to only have one glass full. Surreptitiously, she began to drink more and more. It became too hard to suppress the urge for alcohol. Soon, she was too drunk to function properly.

 

Her husband tried to scrutinize Maggie’s driving. Maggie however was not wary of her speed. Before long, her husband’s head was fused with a tree. There was no hope for his life. Maggie was imprisoned for a bit of time, but then released on bail before her trial. She became very tactful while walking about. She completely gave up drinking. She was tenacious on keeping her sanity.

 

The sanity she held though was terribly transient. First came the voices, “Maggie, Kill them all! Kill them ALL!” they would yell as she took the circuitous route home. She tried to discredit what she heard. It would not quit talking, soon it became enervating. She threatened it, warned it, begged it too quit. It was too much of an antagonist for her to bear. Adversity followed within the next few minutes. I can not abbreviate what happened in an anecdote. The truth is for all to know.

 

Maggie reached for a stick that had fallen from a tree. She ephemerally smacked it against the ground. This enhanced the passerby-ers awareness of her. She called to them, “Friends, Humans, The end is here!” Some people laughed, others walked away in confusion. This caused Maggie much exasperation. The voices she heard told her to act as a demagogue. She had to collaborate with them or else she would not have longevity. The tree branch shattered from the pressure of her hands squeezing it. As hard as the poor girl tried, she could not shut them up.

 

Nonchalantly, Maggie called upon many people to listen to what she had too say; “Pretend I am a lobbyist. I have intuitive hypotheses that all should know!” Finally, the people began to surround their orator.

 

“I have been very precocious at writing. I am in no way trying too extenuate my crime,” She paused slightly, feeling that her face had turned florid. There was a man standing in front of her. He had on a black cape and hood. Mysterious. He looked up and smiled at her. His smile was frugal. “Sir, you are all too haughty looking. Why are you dressed like that?” Many people became stirred. There was no one dressed odd.

 

“Oh Maggie dear,” it spoke to her in a demonic voice, “You can see me because of fortuitous events. They cannot see me.” it laughed, showing its yellowing teeth, its rancid eyes, and its rotting skin.

 

Maggie laughed, “Tell me all, do you not see this reclusive man here?” She had thought she was pointing too the demon man, but instead it was a very prominent and opulent man of the community. Gasps arose from the small crowd of twenty-five people. “Are you all so restrained from the truth that you must not see?” She was blabbering nonsense.

 

More demon men began to appear, “They don’t see us Maggie. Are you so perfidious? We are here. And they must all die. Die at your hand!” One yelled. The others were full of reconciliation. “Lest you should have had more reverence for your god. Your poor pretentious god!” They all said at once. “We are willing to compromise. If you do as we say, we will free you.”

 

In a state of confusion, Maggie grabbed her head. Quickly, she imputed her finger to the crowd, “THEY SHALL DIE AT MY HAND!” She screamed. Most people in the crowd seemed ostentatious, full of integrity, and not ready to die.

 

A voice, one she could not see, told her to reach for her pocket. Within, was a concealed gun. It was an old war pistol, one that had been through much renovation. She held it high out of spontaneity. Women screamed, children cried. One such woman substantiated the fact, “She’s got a gun! She’s crazy!” This was no spurious moment. It was all very true.

 

A shot rang out, a loud cry was heard. People began to run. More shots rung loud. Blood was seeping from wounds, no help had arrived for the dying. There was a sudden convergence of the acts Maggie had just committed and her brain. She threw the gun down as tears began to flow.

“What have I done?” She questioned herself. That was a very evanescent thought though. The acts became divergent from her mind again. It was like flipping a switch. The hooded demons stood above the wounded, Maggie emulated their actions, to finish of the dying. Not long after, she was sent away to the Nevada State Institution.

 

One cannot make much sense of such an act. The benevolent people are often confused by the stories of the people living within the walls. Though we are very assiduous at trying to expand explanations of people like this. Often, the crazy become amicable and you are able to form a sort of camaraderie with them. That is all conditional though. Maggie is this such person, except for today. She procrastinated upon taking her medicine.

 

The prosaic room that houses her is much like all the others within this structure. Grey walls, grey bed, no window. With all of the fortuitousness, the nurse was able to reveal the hackneyed hiding place of the pills in the cheek. Maggie though was very querulous, “I’m better! I don’t need my meds!” She demanded. “I just want to be a hedonist! I cannot do that while on meds!” She slapped the nurse.

Within moments she was restrained by the other nearby nurses. Slowly, they got her to take the medicine. In an instant, she was submissive once more. As time passed by that day, her appearance of feelings became subtle. She talked superficial and superfluously. She rambled about killing all in her path, making them suffer, and then passing on her sagacity to those whom are worthy of her satanic voices.

A highly venerable doctor completely vindicated her claims. He said she would forget saying all of that in just moments. They sent her away too the glass chamber. The chamber was full of water. One must sit within for hours, in the dark, cold, and clear themselves. So she sat, and she sat, and she thought.

They let her out and led her too her room. Little did they know it is too easy to create a weapon and pick a lock. That is how it is. I am Maggie, and Maggie is me. The voices have demanded I write down my recount of my life. I am preparing here to leave for good, to join them all in the underworld. But first, women will scream and watch their husbands bleed, children will cry and watch their mothers die. Because, tonight we all go to hell!

Author's Note

Feed Back welcome, especially if you took the time to read <3

Reviews

[Catulus]

Interesting story. And while I do encourage practice of (as you put it in the tags) "SAT words", yours are not always utilized correctly, given their context. Consider just this one example, in the eighth paragraph: "She smacked it ephemerally against the ground." The root "ephemera" literally means "lasting a day", but is extended to mean transitory, as in the existence of something (e.g., an insect; a disease; the bloom of a flower). It could simply be rephrased: "She struck it repeatedly against the ground with force."

Please don't consider this criticism, just friendly help. There are other errors; but just remember, a thesaurus is useless if not used with a dictionary.

(Also, "passerby-ers" is incorrect; "passersby" is correct.) =)