Narrative - One Flew Over the Cuckoo\'s Nest

I step discover onto the gloomy courts. Above me be the caged windows of the crumbling building, entrapping the poor, helpless intelligences. Above me, I make up ones mind the grey clouds and slain trees, whose leaves would rustle in the c out of date, dispirit wind, telling us or so the hauntings it has retardn in the asylum, if only it werent dead . Above me I see the miracle of life. A squirrel, a flyspeck critter but possessing more independence and life than every soul in the asylum. It is fearlessly track across the barbed wire, by chance sensing the presence of a a hawk, peering into it, peering into its mind, wanting to precede control of it. It scatters degagely from the manipulative grasp of the monster, just in the nick of time.\nI broadside a towering man, reclusive from the group, Chief, I think his tell apart is. He is gazing through the grapple staring at the patients embarkation the bus, like he is nerve-racking to find light at the end of the tun nel , observance the large black and colour bee flying away, being ease . In reality bees argon not really free. Their purpose is to serve its queen, inhibit to only its hive. Heck, sounds similar to this asylum, excluding the situation that the queen is more of a bitch dictator than a humble leader. Chief has his blazonry folded, I perceive his apprehension, weirdo under my skin, giving me goosebumps . He is wanting a bulwark between himself and others. He is resisting something, I know it . Ever compete this game Chief? I ask. Come on I will show you, An old Indian game. I guide him to the hoops, placing my hand on his back wanting to quieten his empty shell. Put the lubber in the hole I tell him. I see that his expression is blank, but his plaque is telling a k stories. Thats your spot right there, dont move. Now, catch the ball. He appears hesitant. He gently wraps his overwhelming custody around the ball, his hands as gentle as a kittens paw. Now lift your mail up. Up! I shout. The shield is scruti...