ImperiousKiwi
01-28-2016, 04:43 PM
In all my years of practice as a therapist, I have never come across a patient as odd as Charles Winslow Eaton. There he sat, with his back straight and both his hands folded neatly on my mahogany chestnut desk. The patter of rain against my office window and the hum of the tube lights did little to ease the nervousness that enveloped me. The lumbering antique bookshelf cast an eerie shadow upon his face. He always insisted on dimming the lights as much as possible during our sessions. A compromise that was met after wanting to do therapy in the dark. The rain outside fell heavier. And the patter turned into small thuds against the glass. I cleared my throat and spoke “Charles, if we are to continue therapy, you must speak to me”. I made eye contact with him. Though Charles Winslow Eaton was physically present, it was clear his mind was delving deep into a spectral plane of existence. One which shielded him from the intrusions of the material world. This was not the first time he had mentally left me alone in my office. His eyes were fixed on me yet they gazed into something beyond. “Charles”.
A flash of lightning followed by the loud crash of thunder seemed to bring my patient back into our realm of being. His hands unfolded and he placed them flat on my desk. For what seemed like an eternity of his silence was broken by the slow, rhythmic motion of his index finger. Tap. I shifted nervously. Tap. The shadow of the shelf now covered the upper half of his face. Only his thin pale lips were illuminated by a rectangular sliver of light that shone on them. Tap. He smiled. I felt the sweat run down my forehead. Tap. I swallowed hard. “Now that you seem to be with me Charles, can we resume?” His index finger rose and lay suspended in the air. Menacingly pointed at me. He slowly leaned forward, his pointed finger inching towards me. My heart stopped. The finger inches away from my left eye. “They say eyes are the window to a person’s soul, doctor” Charles whispered “something you and I lack”. He laughed quietly to himself as he drew his finger back and folded his hands once again. I adjusted my collar and poked my glasses up. “Such behavior is unacceptable in this professional setting Charles” I scolded, though I did so through false bravado “If this continues, I’m afraid I will have to cancel our sessions”
His wide smile now grew wider, revealing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. “Do I detect a hint of fear in your voice doctor Montgomery?” He asked ominously. “Not fear” I shot back “but slight annoyance”. I pulled my chair closer to the desk and pretended to search through the drawer, hoping to eat away at the few minutes we had left in this session. I had only five so far with the oddity who was Charles Winslow Eaton, but they had been five trips to hell.
“Do you believe in God, Doctor?”
“I’m certain I answered this during our first session.”
“Please refresh my memory, it seems I have forgotten.”
“No.”
“No? you will not answer my question?”
“No, I don’t believe in god.”
As a therapist, it is my job to aid people in their seemingly mental problems. Even if this meant sitting for two hours responding to their always vain questions. Though I would rather have my self asking the questions, Charles took up most of our time posing questions about my personal beliefs. He seemed to revel in my answers as if he saw me as a lost sheep in need of guidance.
Charles leaned back into his seat and placed his arms on the rests, a sardonic smile still plastered to his face. “A shame, really” he said “though I’m not surprised. You pseudo-intellectuals always hold such condescending attitudes towards religion and the supernatural.” He laughed as he brought his hands back onto the desk. “Pseudo-intellectuals?” I asked. “Yes, pseudo intellectuals. It’s what I call you science types. Thinking you have some air of true intelligence, when all you did was memorize words out of a textbook for six years” he replied menacingly. I sighed as I removed my glasses. “If you truly did believe that Charles, you would never have come in seeking professional help in the first place.” I rose from my chair and walked to the antique shelf. “You see this Charles? This is a diploma” I held the golden bordered paper, one so carefully encased in a protective frame, and showed it to him. “This Charles, is a symbol of my true intelligence. Intelligence I gained from memorizing textbooks for eight, not six, eight years. And I say so with utmost confidence that those textbooks hold far more knowledge than whatever holy book you may believe in.”
Charles Winslow Eaton grew excited. “I don’t just believe in a holy book, dear Doctor, I believe in the Holy book.” I rubbed my face as I sat back down. “Charles, if you are trying to preach to me, know that it will be useless. Now it was his turn to rise. “Not preach doctor! I am here to warn!” He stood with his hands raised and his head tilted towards the ceiling. “Warn! Warn you of the day the old ones shall return to walk this earth! And Lord Cthulhu will waken from his tomb beneath the sea to spread chaos and havoc upon his rightful realm!” he lowered his arms and gazed at me. “And it is him who warned us of the old ones coming. Him who slaved away for years, compiling the holy verses of the book. Our prophet and savior. Howard Philips Lovercraft!”. At this I buried my head into my hands.
“Do you know about him doctor?”
“Yes I do Charles”
“Then you must have read his divine verses.”
“Yes, I have read his stories.”
“Then open your eyes to the truth!”
“Charles…”
“He was a genius, a prophet, a holy icon!”
“He was a horror author”
“More than that doctor!”
The bravado that shielded me was beginning to fade. This man was truly insane. Any incorrect statement I muttered would mean a terrible end for me. So I sought to come at him from a different perspective. “Charles” I said “You know; I might just believe you.” He quickly sat back down and leaned towards me. “Do you see now? Do you see how Lovecraft speaks the truth?” I sat back and crossed my fingers together. “Perhaps. I don’t believe in divine beings, however. I don’t believe that the old ones will return. I believe in something a little more factual.” His interest peaked. “What could be more factual than the divine writings of Lovecraft?” This was a gamble. “You see Charles, there was another brilliant auth-person, who warned us of a day of reckoning when odd beings would return to reclaim the earth.” He was hooked. This was it. I could either divert his attention and hope to ground something to place my therapy in. Or this could end horribly. “These beings, powerful and mysterious, came to us from a distant galaxy…”. Charles froze. His smile disappeared. Hatred and malice filled his eyes. Wrong move.
In that very moment I prayed to god for the first time. “How dare you!” he slammed his fists against the desk. “How dare you compare the likes of Lovercraft to that bastard hypocrite L. Ron Hubbard!” Frozen in fear, words escaped me. “I cannot allow for such blasphemy to go unpunished!” In a flash of a second, Charles lunged at me from across the desk. The force of his beastly assault set me hurdling into the wall behind me. Sharp pain filled my senses and my vison blurred as I lay on the floor. I could hear Charles mumbling vanities to himself. A cold hand rolled me onto my back. As my vision cleared I could see Charles standing over me with a thick psychology textbook in hand. “You shall feel retribution for your sins woman!”. All I could manage was a whimpered “please.”. The rage disappeared from his face. And in an instant the sardonic, sly smile and cool demeanor of Charles Winslow Eaton returned. He laughed. Cold and mechanically. “Did you really think I was going to kill you my dear, beautiful, doctor Montgomery.” He said as he bent down and stroked my hair. “No, I will not snuff the life from you.” He placed the textbook down next to him and placed both his hands on my face. “But I cannot let your transgression go without consequence.” His thumbs moved over my eyes. “There is only one way for you to see how I see. See how he saw. See the dark. See my beautiful dark mind.” And in one swift motion his thumbs gouged into my pupils.
A flash of lightning followed by the loud crash of thunder seemed to bring my patient back into our realm of being. His hands unfolded and he placed them flat on my desk. For what seemed like an eternity of his silence was broken by the slow, rhythmic motion of his index finger. Tap. I shifted nervously. Tap. The shadow of the shelf now covered the upper half of his face. Only his thin pale lips were illuminated by a rectangular sliver of light that shone on them. Tap. He smiled. I felt the sweat run down my forehead. Tap. I swallowed hard. “Now that you seem to be with me Charles, can we resume?” His index finger rose and lay suspended in the air. Menacingly pointed at me. He slowly leaned forward, his pointed finger inching towards me. My heart stopped. The finger inches away from my left eye. “They say eyes are the window to a person’s soul, doctor” Charles whispered “something you and I lack”. He laughed quietly to himself as he drew his finger back and folded his hands once again. I adjusted my collar and poked my glasses up. “Such behavior is unacceptable in this professional setting Charles” I scolded, though I did so through false bravado “If this continues, I’m afraid I will have to cancel our sessions”
His wide smile now grew wider, revealing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. “Do I detect a hint of fear in your voice doctor Montgomery?” He asked ominously. “Not fear” I shot back “but slight annoyance”. I pulled my chair closer to the desk and pretended to search through the drawer, hoping to eat away at the few minutes we had left in this session. I had only five so far with the oddity who was Charles Winslow Eaton, but they had been five trips to hell.
“Do you believe in God, Doctor?”
“I’m certain I answered this during our first session.”
“Please refresh my memory, it seems I have forgotten.”
“No.”
“No? you will not answer my question?”
“No, I don’t believe in god.”
As a therapist, it is my job to aid people in their seemingly mental problems. Even if this meant sitting for two hours responding to their always vain questions. Though I would rather have my self asking the questions, Charles took up most of our time posing questions about my personal beliefs. He seemed to revel in my answers as if he saw me as a lost sheep in need of guidance.
Charles leaned back into his seat and placed his arms on the rests, a sardonic smile still plastered to his face. “A shame, really” he said “though I’m not surprised. You pseudo-intellectuals always hold such condescending attitudes towards religion and the supernatural.” He laughed as he brought his hands back onto the desk. “Pseudo-intellectuals?” I asked. “Yes, pseudo intellectuals. It’s what I call you science types. Thinking you have some air of true intelligence, when all you did was memorize words out of a textbook for six years” he replied menacingly. I sighed as I removed my glasses. “If you truly did believe that Charles, you would never have come in seeking professional help in the first place.” I rose from my chair and walked to the antique shelf. “You see this Charles? This is a diploma” I held the golden bordered paper, one so carefully encased in a protective frame, and showed it to him. “This Charles, is a symbol of my true intelligence. Intelligence I gained from memorizing textbooks for eight, not six, eight years. And I say so with utmost confidence that those textbooks hold far more knowledge than whatever holy book you may believe in.”
Charles Winslow Eaton grew excited. “I don’t just believe in a holy book, dear Doctor, I believe in the Holy book.” I rubbed my face as I sat back down. “Charles, if you are trying to preach to me, know that it will be useless. Now it was his turn to rise. “Not preach doctor! I am here to warn!” He stood with his hands raised and his head tilted towards the ceiling. “Warn! Warn you of the day the old ones shall return to walk this earth! And Lord Cthulhu will waken from his tomb beneath the sea to spread chaos and havoc upon his rightful realm!” he lowered his arms and gazed at me. “And it is him who warned us of the old ones coming. Him who slaved away for years, compiling the holy verses of the book. Our prophet and savior. Howard Philips Lovercraft!”. At this I buried my head into my hands.
“Do you know about him doctor?”
“Yes I do Charles”
“Then you must have read his divine verses.”
“Yes, I have read his stories.”
“Then open your eyes to the truth!”
“Charles…”
“He was a genius, a prophet, a holy icon!”
“He was a horror author”
“More than that doctor!”
The bravado that shielded me was beginning to fade. This man was truly insane. Any incorrect statement I muttered would mean a terrible end for me. So I sought to come at him from a different perspective. “Charles” I said “You know; I might just believe you.” He quickly sat back down and leaned towards me. “Do you see now? Do you see how Lovecraft speaks the truth?” I sat back and crossed my fingers together. “Perhaps. I don’t believe in divine beings, however. I don’t believe that the old ones will return. I believe in something a little more factual.” His interest peaked. “What could be more factual than the divine writings of Lovecraft?” This was a gamble. “You see Charles, there was another brilliant auth-person, who warned us of a day of reckoning when odd beings would return to reclaim the earth.” He was hooked. This was it. I could either divert his attention and hope to ground something to place my therapy in. Or this could end horribly. “These beings, powerful and mysterious, came to us from a distant galaxy…”. Charles froze. His smile disappeared. Hatred and malice filled his eyes. Wrong move.
In that very moment I prayed to god for the first time. “How dare you!” he slammed his fists against the desk. “How dare you compare the likes of Lovercraft to that bastard hypocrite L. Ron Hubbard!” Frozen in fear, words escaped me. “I cannot allow for such blasphemy to go unpunished!” In a flash of a second, Charles lunged at me from across the desk. The force of his beastly assault set me hurdling into the wall behind me. Sharp pain filled my senses and my vison blurred as I lay on the floor. I could hear Charles mumbling vanities to himself. A cold hand rolled me onto my back. As my vision cleared I could see Charles standing over me with a thick psychology textbook in hand. “You shall feel retribution for your sins woman!”. All I could manage was a whimpered “please.”. The rage disappeared from his face. And in an instant the sardonic, sly smile and cool demeanor of Charles Winslow Eaton returned. He laughed. Cold and mechanically. “Did you really think I was going to kill you my dear, beautiful, doctor Montgomery.” He said as he bent down and stroked my hair. “No, I will not snuff the life from you.” He placed the textbook down next to him and placed both his hands on my face. “But I cannot let your transgression go without consequence.” His thumbs moved over my eyes. “There is only one way for you to see how I see. See how he saw. See the dark. See my beautiful dark mind.” And in one swift motion his thumbs gouged into my pupils.