"But what is liberty without wisdom, and without virtue? It is the greatest of all possible evils; for it is folly, vice, and madness, without tuition or restraint."

-Edmund Burke

A Huntress Delirium

Psychosis means abnormal condition of the mind, often described as involving a "loss of contact with reality".

In the darkest night she hoped for light.

She was born alone and alone one day she will die. For now, the hunter consoles herself preparing for a battle that is yet to come.

Light on her feet, she goes through the old, gnarled trees in the endless forest. Her muscles scream in protest, she has almost reached her limit, but still she remains unstoppable in her quest. She finally understands this is what she has been training for her entire life. She was so used to running away it took her awhile to twist her mind around the fact that she must now face her fears and tries not to tremble.

In the wilderness she found a home, she left behind a world of meaningless words and selfish actions; she prefers, instead, the quiet fury of the wind, the charging silence before the storm, the helpless beauty of the prey. For her this is real, no need to decode the entrancing movements of the snake, and no lies just harsh truths. To kill or be killed.

Once she bore arms with sisters, held her head high among daily hardships and charged with all her might all in the name of love. Such an abstract form love was, even back then. Why fight for something you never knew?

One by one her sisters left, each had a bright future, and she became a burden to the hopeful.

She was left alone, realizing for the first time how truly awful the world was. With a sudden jolt she knew she was stuck; a panther waiting for a meal at her back, gravity whispered sweet words as a cliff laid at her feet and an ocean extending towards eternity, a world so unknown and vast with no safety exits.

Every option, she thought in her misery, led to the same end result. It was all a matter of how I chose to meet the smiling stranger at the end of her line.

People experiencing a psychotic episode in the context of depression may experience persecutory or self-blaming delusions or hallucinations.

One day she left that cliff, forgot the ocean beyond and tried to turn back. The one thing she forgot was the panther on her back.

Now, day by day, she runs. Fast, just not fast enough. She has no tears left to cry, no fear left to shed. She is nothing but the shadow of the girl she once was. Determination shines through her, lights her eyes and soothes her screaming muscles.

She climbs one tree, her last resort, her Alamo. Her hands are steady out of sheer will. She has exactly one shot, one last silver arrow, and waits.

In a moment like this, most people would think of what their death means in the immensity of this universe. She would've too if she wasn't so tired of this fucking universe.

A black shadow falls in her range. Without hesitation she knocks her arrow and prays. For a second she felt victorious, the panther fell down. She was free!

She goes to kneel beside the creature, her posture clearly smug. Its eyes were open and staring right at her. Accusations pierce the air in that silent stare.

She reaches out to touch the creature's fur, soft and coarse covered in blood. One she willingly shed because of her desire to escape. She wonders if she really is as heartless as her actions make her out to be. Can you judge someone for wanting to break free? Is freedom worth killing your only company?

What kind of sick world was she living in that a life could be spared in the name of some idea? Wasn't the idea of living more important than one silly cause?

Was she winning something from her alleged freedom?

Finally she understood, as lonely as she ever felt she was never alone. She had a purpose to keep on living, she had a reason to wake and keep on going. Her own selfishness killed that reason.

She was now truly alone in the forest.

She cried without a reason and she cried for all the reasons.

She watched all her hopes die in front of her one by one, but time could never fully break her.

She stood b the cliff day and night, waiting for a lost hunter to come her way. Preparing for the day she could impart her knowledge and know she actually did something good for a change.

And she was afraid. Of the world. Of herself.

Psychosis is simply an extreme state of consciousness that falls beyond the norms experienced by most.

Tick Tock. Tick, Tock. Tick…. Tock.

One car pulls in while the other drives away.

One knife come down and cuts the thread. One less soul to walk this earth.

The sun rose hours ago but failed to heat it all.

The older nurse walked out the room, throwing the chart at the younger one.

"Time of death: 6:49 am", the younger nurse looked back at the fragile pile of bones now cold. She frowned and followed the older nurse.

"What was her name?" The older nurse looked at her for the first time that day. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't let yourself get attached."

A fine shade of fury shines through the young nurse, her electric blue eyes looked charged. "It's not right; they are people not stray dogs"

"Might as well be." The old nurse, despite her short height, managed to stare down the young one. "They come here because no family wants them. They are a secret. You want her name? Fine. Her name was Bianca diAngelo; she had one brother who died years ago. No one else, at least no one came forward. She suffered hallucinations from his death, believed herself to be responsible. It got worse. In fact, she got so much worse she had to be virtually comatose so she wouldn't hurt herself."

The old nurse, dropped into a chair, suddenly more tired then she had ever looked. She looked out the window of the dilapidated hospital.

"She came in during my second year working here; sometimes she was sane enough to play poker with me. Most of the time though, she was lost. As lost as you could ever find yourself. She would scream all night, truly terrible."

She got up from her seat and picked up the imaginary lint from her already perfect uniform.

"Don't let yourself get attached. People move on or they lose themselves. In this life, most choose the second option, Nurse Grace."

As the young nurse moved away she swore she heard the older nurse say, "She fancied herself a hunter too."

The young nurse looked back and caught a glimpse of the jagged scar on the nurse's neck.

"Maybe that's what hell is. You go mad, and all your demons come and get you just as fast as you can think them up."

Anne Rice