I open my eyes from my sleep.

I turn my head to the right and I

see the pale hue of blue light shining into the day room through the
window. The light creeps to the other end of the room to the glass
Station, reflecting the blue sparks into a thousand angles, dancing off
the walls and ceiling. My mind begins to play tricks on me. I watch the
shadow of the chair at the card table as it begins to rotate around the
room in search of a victim. It passes by the wall and climbs towards
the ceiling. It falls back to the ground and continues its search among
the floor. The shadow warps and bends like light through a prism. It
comes close to me faster and faster. It’s so close to my feet it may
swallow me up into a dark realm of nightmares. I tell my body to move,
but I’m paralyzed in anticipation for the awful end I am doomed to. And
just before the shadow seizes my limp ankle, the ward lights flash on.
My eyelids clamp shut and I can feel the pressure upon my face.
I pry my eyes open to look for a person that may be in the room. But I
am blinded by colors and light that stream past my vision like a
projector screen. Slowly, the room begins to take shape in my mind.
The dayroom is so bright; I think I’m looking into a flashlight. I look
towards the Station to my left and I can make out the shape of a Black
Boy holding a mop in his right hand and his finger on the light switch.
“You out here again,” he says to me. He walks towards the front
of the glass Station and begins his work of mopping the floors. I just sit
and watch him due to the lack of any other activity. He gets uneasy
about the silence, like normal people do. I personally feel comfortable
in the silence, but I’m just a crazy loon, I don’t know any better. The
Black Boy straightens his distorted spine to an upright position with the
mop held far away from his body. With his left fist clamped shut and
resting on his side and his head tilted slightly, he speaks to me in a
confessing tone of voice.
“Awright, you got me. The ward is bringin’ in a new patient. I was
instructed to clean the day room early so the place looks appeasing to
the gentlemen who bring the man in. Now quit starin’ at me! I’ve got
work to do!”
I realize I’ve been zoning out of his explanation and I shake my
head to bring myself to. The Black Boy continues with his work and I
fall back to my silent morning as the day begins.

Kashash, click. The ward doors open and releases a crowd of

Chronics and Acutes into the dayroom like a cattle ranch gate. That’s
the only way were treated here in this prison, like cattle. They kick us
and push us into the rooms they want us to stay and they clean us and
feed us whenever they please, waiting for the right time when we trust
them enough to give our lives, and then slaughter us.
Kashash, click. The ward door opens again, slowly this time and
the faces of all the patients in the room turn towards the door, waiting,
hoping for a king to emerge from the light and reveal himself to his
subjects. Two tall men stand and wait inside the door as all eyes still
rest on them. One of them is familiar, he is a ward Escort, dressed in
his usual black suit. The other man hasn’t shown his face, but I can tell
by the light reflecting off him that he has more color in his character
than a children’s book. His deep red hair is as bright as a flower
against the grass and his outsized grin bares white teeth that shine
brighter than the tile floor as if someone carved them out of his skull
only this morning. Color jumps from out of his sleeves as though he
had an entire firework show hidden beneath his shirt. I can tell that the
ward patients are in a trance, watching the color flash across the room
to their eyes as the man spins in circles to get a better look at the
ward. One man next to me asks his friend if the new guy may be a
demon.
“Admission, come sign for him,” calls the Escort to the Black
Boys. They hurry down and usher the demon into the admissions
office. As soon as the door closes behind them, the dayroom bursts
into gossip as to who this man might be.
“I think he’s here for slaughter.”
“Why would he be here then? He should be in jail!”
“It could have been a misunderstanding.”
“Maybe he was framed!”
“What if he’s after us now?”
“No one would waste their time to murder a bunch of crazies.”
“Who knows? We’re already dead to the rest of the world.”
“Fffffffuck da wife!!!!!” The gossip is broken by Old Ruckly’s
persistent yelling about his wife. It seemed like an eternity before the
red-haired man emerged from the office again. Following him into the
dayroom are two doctors, probing him with needles, thermometers,
bandages, and tongue depressors. He waves his arms past the
instruments, shooing them away like flies. The man introduces himself
to several of the Acutes as R. P. McMurphy and tells them that they can
call him Mac, since they’ll be seeing lots more of each other. He’s as
loud in his voice as though he were holding a megaphone to his face.
Everyone in the ward can hear him, even the patients on the top floor.
The new guy takes out a deck of cards from his pocket and
waves it in front of his face as though he were bribing the Acutes. He
somehow rallies up the majority of the Acutes in the ward to play a
card game with him at the table. These Acutes wouldn’t even dare set
foot into the view of Mrs. Ratched let alone their own shadow. The
reason they are so drawn to this new man is a mystery. Even the
doctors are puzzled by the patients’ strange behavior.
McMurphy stands from the card table for a moment and scans
the day room for something that we are all unaware of. He finally
pinpoints his gaze on one man in particular. Mr. Broom, or Bromden by
his real name, is standing in the corner of the day room hidden in the
dark shadows. All the patents around the ward like to call him Chief
due to his father’s status as an Indian leader. Although he may be the
son of a greater man, he appears as though he were older than time
itself. And I don’t mean that he looks old, I mean that he is built like a
giant man who has been frozen in ice for eons and finally thawed out
to observe the new time. They say that a long time ago, all the animals
and people on the Earth were ten times their size today. That’s what
Chief looks like. He also hasn’t learned English yet. He’s a mute deaf
man, and dumb too. Can’t understand a word you say. All he does is
sweep as though he were imagining running with dinosaurs.
McMurphy shakes Chief’s hand and announces their new
friendship, but I don’t think the Indian knew what had happened. The
Big Nurse Mrs. Ratched materializes out of thin air, right in front of
McMurphy and the Chief. She lectures him on abiding by the rules of
the ward as if he has already thrown a lamp out a window. And I
believe that McMurphy got the same idea as to what she was up to and
responded, “Everyone tells me that right when they think I’m about to
do the dead opposite.”
The next day passes normally, although there is a strange air in
the ward due to the attitude of Nurse Ratched and the doctors. They all
seem apprehensive about what the new patient might do. They know
more than I do, so I can’t tell much. McMurphy seems to be biding his
time for something unknown to everyone, something extreme. He only
observes the ward. He watches as Public Admissions visits and the
meetings take place and the medications are handed out to the
patients and Chief sweeps away his thoughts. I can tell that McMurphy
is up to something. And when he finally takes action, it could be huge.