Psychiatry #3 (Fiction)

Daisy. Rose. Iris. Narcissus. Orchid.

The world is swimming with my favourite flowers.

There! Do you see her necklace interlaced with diamonds and roses?

Roses… Roses know posers. Posers are nosers.  

I remember that awful, awful school reunion. Titles trailing every classmates’ name on the reunion booklet. News anchors, doctors, nurses, working adults… Pathetic.

Ooh! I do remember the jewel-toned rose on that booklet… what if I started a business selling flowers AND diamonds?

That hasn’t been done before, has it? The first FLAMOND business…

That’s what I should name it.

“Have you been sleeping well, Barbara?” The lady with the necklace speaks.

Sleep… an unnecessary nuisance when FLAMOND needs to get up and running.

“I need my phone.” I ignore her nonsensical question.

Patchwork of daisies and diamonds, jewellery exhibiting only the rarest diamonds, the Princess would be ecstatic when she sees the Moussaieff Red Diamond in my collection.

“What do you need it for?” The devil with scarlet heels is interrogating me.

Will she steal the Princess from me?

The devil’s eyes crack into slits and her mouth morphs into an ugly smile.

She wants to steal the diamonds. She is going to steal my prized belongings. She will take everything!

I jump out of my seat towards the door the second her underling returns stupidly with cups of coffee.  

Capitalising on this moment of opportunity, I snatch the key card loosely clipped to his pants, flip the tray of coffee onto his pristine white shirt and bolt down the corridor straight for the “Staff Only”-signed door.

As the coffee scalds his delicate skin, the alarm blares, but the exit is in sight.

The exit, the end is within reach.

The door that guards my phone, my diamonds, my flowers.

FLAMOND… Here I am-

OUCH! I feel a sharp sting in my arm. Four of the devil’s underlings have me pushed up against the wall.

HELP!

I scream with more vigour than ever before. I need that phone, my diamonds, my flowers.

HELP!!!

…

Soon, there is no phone, no diamonds, no flowers. The “Staff Only”-signed door has distorted into a concoction of blurred silhouettes.

As they escort me back to purgatory, I see the devil holding an empty syringe.

The devil has poisoned me.

Mania (2022).