Sunday, June 8, 2008

Looking Back From A Clear Space

Discovered in the files of the Fes Clinic for the Frequently Challenged:

June 6, 2008

Summary -

After some weeks of extreme medication and disinterested counselling, Mr John awoke from a deep sleep murmuring the words, "One Spooky Man", over and over. "One Spooky Man", "One Spooky Man". Nurse Drakool suggested that we search on the Interweb to see if these words might mean something to those outside the walls of this ancient city. We have discovered that the man we know of as "Mr John" was making a record of his travels with the so-called Spooky Men's Chorale, a primitive cult.

While we can only guess at the perversions to which he was subjected at the hands of these "Spooky Men" (for this handsome young man's experiences are yet to rise to the surface of his memory). He talks apparently randomly of "singing", his moods swing from deep self-doubt to grandiose delusions; wondering if he is "pretty enough" one minute and then declaring his "magnificence" the next. We wonder what we must do to make him whole again.

When he was brought to our refuge by the local cattery-workers, they to
ld us that he had been found gibbering and sweaty, offering outrageous sums of money for local handicrafts. It was all that the authorities could do to rescue him before he was buried beneath a pile of unecessarily expensive local leathergoods. In his pocket, we found this photograph:

As best we can tell, this image shows the final time that Mr John was with this band of song-doers. He wears the bowler of innocence, surely a cry for help. He is obviously surrounded by those who would have him join them ... forever. It seems that somehow he made his escape and fled to Northern Africa. His senses did not come with him.

We hope that in the months to come, more and more of the real man will return. We will do our best to keep him safe and to bring him back to a state of full recovery. In time, we hope that he will be able to return to his world, to face his fears and perhaps one day, once again meet these Spooky Men and, if he chooses to rejoin their ranks, do so in such a way that will allow him to sing proudly, sing well and sing on, and never again wind up being delivered to an African mental institution by local cat-collectors.

We can only hope

Dr Bzaaf.

As a warning to those who might read this, we show you now a recent photograph of our Mr John, that you may see and be warned of what may befall you if you allow yourself to get too close to the Spooky Men's Chorale. We wish you well.