Life in Words

Saving Clarity Victor Hark's Sanity-Snippet

So for English, we had to write a 1000-4000 word fantasy story that follows that fantasy world that we made up and presented to the class. I decided to base mine on Clarity, four years on from the book I am currently in the process of writing. 

I'm proud of it, and I was wondering what you all think of it. 

Some basic info before we begin. 

Clarity Victor-Hark has schozophrenia. 

    Schizophrenia is an illnesswhich affects the function on the brain. It tampers with the ability to act,feel and think. Individuals affected can have thought that don't link up or make any sense, causing confusion to others, but it feels normal to them. They might also hear voices in their heads, that no one else experience.They might also suffer hallucinations, where they see, hear, smell and feel things that are not there. They can become delusional, believing things that their cultural background doesn't. 

In her mind, she hallucinate three separate fantasy worlds. 

Pessimist: the world of negativity, punishment, evil, fear and death. 

Realist: the world of good and evil, right and wrong. 

Optimist: the world of positivity, life, happiness, joy and enthusiasm. 

So grab your popcorn, and be prepared to be reading for a while, because the story is 7 pages long with narrow borders on Microsoft Word 2016. I hope you're comfortable. 

WARNING: It's set in the pessimist world, so it's a teeny weeny bit gruesome. And I would never talk to my parents the way Clarity does. 

Saving Clarity Victor-Hark's Sanity {PESSMIST}

My parents had been apprehensive when it came to me learning to drive. They were afraid that I would have one of my 'episodes' while on the road, and consequently crash into something, risking my own life and the life of others. I put false belief in myself, as we always do when are hearts are set on something.

Nearly reduced to tears, I had begged them to reconsider and give me a chance. I needed this opportunity to prove to them that I was more than just a weak and fragile schizophrenic victim. As I studied their knitted brows and the glassy look swimming in their pupils, I clenched my fists when the echo filled my mind like a voice quivering in a cave.

Don't let them win, Clarity.

Fight back, Clarity...

They can't control you, Clarity!

"I know you hate me," I growled, in a low voice as I could see the hate painted across their expression, "but can you at least do something for me that doesn't make me feel like a useless ball of belly button fluff?"

My mother and step-father looked sideways at each other. I could tell they were doubting me, they always had once they finally accepted my mental illness, my schizophrenia.

"We will have to talk about this with your therapist and get you prescribed for more medication before we even consider what you are suggesting," my mother, Diane, replied.

I uncurled my hands from the tight fists, and stared at them in confusion. They were provoking me. Poking my arm until they had me fully on the edge and about to jump off a cliff, about to give up. If only my real dad wasn't far away in Italy, then maybe I would have been able to convince him to have more faith in me too.

"Can you at least try to trust me?" I asked angrily.

"We can't Clarity. We just can't. You shouldn't even trust yourself. You have no control over those hallucinations, and you insist on punishing yourself every time you do something wrong, even though we give you the whack on the head that you need!" My mother yelled.