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| Alarmingly Strange Stories |
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The Frogman |
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| The Frogman's vision became blurred as all the voices in the room started to fade
away. He blacked out. In the darkness, he heard a single quite voice. The voice grew louder in his mind: "You're relaxed, no one can hurt you here. You're perfectly safe. You feel no anger, no aggression, no desire to dismember or mutilate anyone. You'll open your eyes on the count of three, one… Two… three." The Frogman opened his eyes. "How do you feel?" his therapist asked. "I...I feel just fine, thanks." "That's good." "Can I go home soon?" Froggy continued. "You have no home, none of us do. But I've signed a release to send you to a work camp. They'll take good care of you." "And the cord?" "There is no cord, there never was. You'll see a new therapist who will help you at the work-camp." "Ok," the Frogman mindlessly agreed. "And Billy?" His therapist loosened his collar, and cleared his throat as he nervously looked toward the one-way mirror, where the immortals watched. "Billy died when you were just a little boy, you know that." "Oh...oh yeah. I forgot. It was just a dream?" "Just a dream." "Oh," Froggy continued, "Is it time to go now?" "Yes I have someone waiting outside to take you to the camp." "Ok," the Frogman agreed. As he left the room, he scratched the bandages covering his left hand. The stubs, where his fingers had been, were itching. |
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