Interesting, for some reason I feel inspired to write. Must be a mix of sleep dep, fucked up situations, aching muscles, and pain. Have to remember that recipe in future, or possibly to avoid it. Anyway, you lucky people are the fortunate recipients of the tripe that I write, so here we go.

The corridor was a pristine, clean white, disinfectant still fresh and strong in the air, masking the scent of violence and human decay that so often hung around the place. Even the quiet moans and whimpers that came from the rooms lining the corridor seemed clean and sanitised.

The soft clicking sound of the nurse's heels and the faint whisper of the wheelchair on the tiles were the only sounds. The man in the wheelchair hung limp in his bonds, heavily sedated. His head rested on one shoulder, a thin stream of drool running down his grizzled cheek, vanishing into the thick, grey beard that hung around his face. Occasionally he twitched, but never made any sound as he was led to his room.

The rhythmic clicking of heels on floor stopped. The nurse released the chair, stepped forwards, and unlocked a door, pushing the man in the chair inside. She untied his bonds, tipped the chair forwards to let the man fall to the soft, padded floor, and left the room, the door closing behind her with a barely audible click.

For a long time the man lay there, a crumpled heap on the floor, the only thing protecting his modesty being a thin green hospital gown. After a short time he moved, pushing himself up and looking around, his kindly blue eyes frightened and scared. He rose to all fours, and crawled quickly into the furthest corner from the door, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.

Outside the door two doctors stood with clipboards, watching through a small window in the heavy material.

"Kind of sad really. Another one who thinks he's God incarnated. Slight oddities in that he had very little religious knowledge, and they're usually better than Bible scholars for that type of thing, but there you go. I recommend we keep him under observation for a while and see what comes of it."

The accompanying junior doctor nodded. He always nodded when the senior doctor suggested anything. Nodded and took notes. After all, an older, more experienced doctor was more likely to be right than he was, and he wanted to become a senior doctor himself one day.

After a time they left the poor lunatic alone in his cell. Inside the padded room, he looked up as they left, eyes sad and lonely, muttering to himself. Someone listening might have caught the mutters, but its unlikely they would have understood. It was a language that had not been spoken on Earth for thousands of years. Not since the tower of Babel was shattered in fact.

There ya go. I might continue this, or abandon it, or whatever.

Bunny