Tuesday, December 23, 2014

knowledge part 2 of 2: knowing

Dr. Greggory Burns’ Notes, Countinued.
Patient was found amidst the burned down wreck of his office. Has been in a catatonic state since, punctuated by brief periods of near lucidity, repeats these phrases: “Bellow Below.”; “Misjudgment”; “Red missing”; “Scales Equate, Equate, Equation”.
Patient also murmurs seemingly random numbers while sleeping. I have him under 24 hour video surveillance. I’m beginning to notice a peculiar pattern.
Fire Marshall is still determining whether arson was involved. Attached letter was recovered from the scene.
It is strange; the letter was addressed to an abandoned building only a few blocks from Dr. Bolton’s home/office. I personally spoke with the mail carrier, and she remembers dropping off several similar letters to a red mailbox. Trouble is this mailbox no longer seems to exist.
Additionally, I was passingly acquainted with Dr. Bolton, both of us being mental health professionals in the same town. The letter doesn’t read like him. There is something decidedly old fashioned about it.


Patient Report and Continuing Assessment pg. 5

07-31-1996
Dr. Greggory Burns’ Notes, Countinued.
No change in patient’s symptoms.
Fire Marshall has ruled out arson. They say it was an electrical fire, started because of the preponderance of odd machines Dr. Bolton was using.
I checked with the State University campus: There is no Dr. Geller. There hasn’t been one there for 40 yrs.
I’ve obtained police permission to sort through what is left of his patient notes.
08-2-1996
No change.
08-9-1996
No change. Beginning to see a pattern in those numbers.
08-16-1996
Amus’s patient notes arrived today.
01-01-1997
I had the dreams myself. Amus looks at me differently now.
03-19-1997
I’ve gathered what I need. I have discovered Amus’s mistake. The color red. The mail box. Dahlia has no hold on me. Tomorrow, the meteor shower, I go for it. The cycle stops with me.
            
Patient Report and Continuing Assessment pg. 6

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Amus ran his fingers through dripping wet, copper colored hair. He handed a worn manila file folder back to the dark haired man sitting in front of him. Dr. Burns limply held the files for several minutes before speaking.

“Do we tell anyone?” asked Greg.

After another long, still silence, Amus replied, “I don’t know. I still don’t believe knowledge to be evil, even this knowledge, but…”

“It’s dangerous,” Greg offered.

Amus nodded. “Obviously.”

“Does anyone else deserve it?”

“Do we?” asked Amus plaintively.

“We earned it, I think.”

The manila folder dropped softly through the gaping maw of the furnace. Its pages quickly curled away into forgotten ashes.

 “Who do you think she really was, Greg?”


“I don’t know.”

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