Chapter 1: Chasing Cages

He never knew the right decisions to make in his life, but it seemed to mostly turn out for him. John walked slowly down the narrow muddled pathway. He was entranced and deep within his own thought as he typically was.

" What a Fucking night".

His course hands reached into his tweed suit coat to swiftly pull out a smooth leather pouch. What he uncovered was one of his favorite things, a simple pass time that brought him much of his joy. loose tobacco. He buried his nose in the bag and took in a deep whiff.

" this is all I need at the end of a long day!"

he took out his rolling papers and quickly rolled it into its slender tube shape and jammed it into his mouth and as quick as a flash struck his match and lit it up. A deep inhale followed by a slow smooth exhale.

" what did you get yourself into this time John."

He looked around the street seeing the leering eyes through the disheveled windows, if you could call them that.

" This is the birth of a new nation!? This is the pinnacle of the 19th century?"

he spat on the ground in disgust. John was a young doctor in his prime he had his ups and downs and saw much pain and misfortune but this was not the cause of his anguish. He was born with a wooden steak through his heart and so misfortune seemed to follow. He was magnetized to the decrepit the broken and sad. This was the thing that made John such an amazing psychologist he had such great empathy. So much so he seemed to carry on the burdens of his patients for much longer than were necessary.

" I need to finish this book; I can never make my mark on the world with this thorn of a Hospital in my side."

" I should have taken the position in America a booming country so much chance for success!"

he took his palm and rubbed his eye as the smoke wisped in front of it. The air was cool and clammy as he continued to walk down the winding dirt path. He listened closely to the sounds of the city. There truly was not much to be proud of. Everything was desolate. The walls creaked as the air passed through them begging and longing for the years long ago. For the bright summer days of their youth, when cheers of joy used to hang out its window sills. Now it had finally seen the end of its age. The whole of 12th and Clive was a haunt. The people seemed to move in and out so swiftly hidden in the shadows. Even when John passed through the town in the day darkness hung over and sadness permeated the air. Everything came to decimation, not from war, not from disease; no that came much longer, after this town had seen its days. It wasn't for poor government regulation or excessive taxation. No the murderer of this town was man and he had certainly made his mark. Leaving his trace and his refuse, uprooting all life that were in his path. There was not a touch of green to be found. And if there were it would have been suffocated and squelched out by the subtle fog that sat in the air. John had come across several puddles on his lonely walk. he became impish and playful bouncing about past each of the puddles, it was quite unfitting. He fooled himself into thinking it were just about the puddles but he found himself skipping along the rest of the trail humming to himself.

"ugh, so disgusting, how does one even live hear."

A foul stench emanated forth. John chuckled to himself and continued humming about. He looked and peered through every nook and cranny in the rundown neighborhood, he could see the glistening sad eyes of the inhabitants, the yellows glaring and peering out like that of wolves. BANG! John turned and looked behind him as a short stocky man scrambled into the darkness, metal sheeting falling onto a pile of trash. He listened to the faint whispers which filled the night air. John paid this no, mind turned his back and continued on his way.

"I would Feel better to get bit by a rat then to run into a man"

He said shortly.

"disgusting little beasts, there barely people."

He spoke uproariously as he spat on the ground flicking his cigarette out in front of him. It was clear he was speaking to whom ever had an ear.

Many were afraid of this little town and many similar towns around Turnberry, John new there was not much to fear. These people hadn't eaten in weeks if not longer, they were broken in spirit, and would have to sell their shoes to get a decent knife (let alone a gun). Besides that, he knew they would be much more likely to be afraid of him. It was the capitalist and the bourgeoisie with their tweed coats, top hats, wingtips and sly tongues whom turned the once wholesome town into the ghetto slums it now became. These were men whom looked much like John did. Men whom walked and talked like john. Men whom smelled, breathed, and sighed as John did. To these men Johns coat was a symbol. It was a black cape which would cover his shifting eyes pale skin and pointy teeth. John looked at them and saw little beasts, and when they looked at him they saw a monster. All the while in the back of their minds thinking that he was coming back to suck out the remaining joy, love, wealth, and prosperity they had left over.

John looked up at the stars and the night sky as he casually walked down the road each footstep muffled by the cries for help which sailed behind him. He could see he was coming closer to his neighborhood, as the ground was slowly transitioning from the dirt and filth to rubble and pebbles. And as John peered a bit down the road he could see the cobble stone merely an eye shot away.

"Ugh the stench of that city is worse than death"

John stretched out one of his arms and reached out at the leaves which were straggling out to great him as he got closer to his destination.

"Damn it!"

He looked down at his course hands as the blood dripped and winded around his arm. He could see the scarlet dripping from the thorns of the branch. The bush taking the last amount of bliss he had for the night. John carried on and began to see the tops of the gothic style mansion. This was a place he called, work, a place which was life, a prison, a hospital, and home.

"it's quite unbelievable that a man can't enjoy a bit of happiness without misfortune creeping behind. John continued on and was being guided up the path by the twinkling lights in the sky and the breeze pushing him along. The fog started to come in off the rolling hills and the wispy clouds came together and became denser. John knew that the darkness and rain were about to carry him the rest of the way home. He had about a mile left to go and he could see the large boarded church like doors. He was in no rush to get home being out in the rain was equal as enjoyable as being stuck inside with rude staff and severely deranged patients. If he weren't being abused verbally by the staff he was sure to get some sort of abuse from the patients. John saw the lights of the oil lamps and the building beat up filth white stone. Ivory was crawling all over the building and was blanketed over as if it were being tucked into bed. The building was old. Much too old for its time and perhaps it was even too old for its time. The hospitals outward appearance was cold and dark. John moved passed the menacing faces of the sharp, bird nosed gargoyles as the thunder rolled in. He jostled up the weathered steps. As he walked on them the sediment underneath rolled out. Johns leg was already midair and has he stepped down the top stone flipped out and hit his shin before ricocheting off and shooting down the steps till it shattered into a million little pieces. The rain began to mist down coating johns face. He grappled to the ground and grasped his shin.

"Good Lord..."

He shook his head as the lightening peeled down flashing his way once again. John bolstered himself together and jolted up the steps.

"I quite know how this night will go already."