Narrative - One Flew Over the Cuckoo\'s Nest

I tint out onto the gloomy courts. preceding(prenominal) me are the caged windows of the crumbling building, entrapping the poor, helpless souls. preceding(prenominal) me, I see the fair-haired(a) clouds and lifeless trees, whose leaves would rustle in the cold, chilling wind, telling us about the hauntings it has seen in the asylum, if lone(prenominal) it werent dead . Above me I see the miracle of life. A squirrel, a tiny critter further possessing more than(prenominal) freedom and life than all soul in the asylum. It is fearlessly running across the bitter wire, maybe sensing the figurehead of a a hawk, peering into it, peering into its mind, absentminded to take control of it. It scatters freely from the manipulative grasp of the monster, entirely in the nick of time.\nI notice a sublime man, secluded from the group, top dog, I think of his name is. He is gazing through with(predicate) the fence staring at the patients boarding the bus, like he is trying to find baseless at the end of the tunnel , watching the large opaque and yellow bee flying away, macrocosm free . In world bees are not sincerely free. Their purpose is to administer its queen, restrained to only its hive. Heck, sounds confusable to this asylum, excluding the fact that the queen is more of a bitch potentate than a humble leader. old geezer has his arms folded, I dig his apprehension, crawling under my skin, tolerant me goosebumps . He is deficient a barrier between himself and others. He is resisting something, I know it . ever played this feisty Chief? I ask. Come on I will constitute you, An old Indian game. I guide him to the hoops, placing my commit on his back wanting to reassure his empty shell. put up the ball in the welter I tell him. I see that his expression is blank, but his face is telling a thousand stories. Thats your spot decline there, dont move. Now, take the ball. He appears hesitant. He gently wraps his raise hand around the ball, his hands as gentle as a kittens paw. Now rise your arms up. Up! I shout. The guard is scruti...