'Narrative - One Flew Over the Cuckoo\'s Nest'

'I step unwrap onto the gloomy courts. above me are the caged windows of the crumbling building, entrapping the poor, mixed-up persons. Above me, I see the grey-haired clouds and lifeless trees, whose leaves would emanation in the cold, demoralise wind, telling us about the hauntings it has seen in the asylum, if unaccompanied it werent defunct . Above me I see the miracle of life. A squirrel, a detailed critter but possessing to a greater extent than cededom and life than every soul in the asylum. It is fearlessly running across the barbed wire, mayhap sensing the charge of a a hawk, peering into it, peering into its mind, lacking to issuing control of it. It scatters emptyly from the manipulative prod of the monster, just in the nick of time.\nI notice a towering man, sequester from the group, old-timer, I cerebrate his name is. He is gazing through the repugn staring at the patients boarding the bus, want he is nerve-wracking to find lightsome at the bre ak off of the tunnel , ceremonial the large sable and yellow bee flying away, being free . In truthfulness bees are not really free. Their purpose is to facilitate its queen, restrained to only its hive. Heck, sounds similar to this asylum, excluding the incident that the queen is more of a snatch dictator than a humble leader. header has his arms folded, I perceive his apprehension, weirdo under my skin, giving me goosebumps . He is wanting a restraint between himself and others. He is resisting something, I fill out it . Ever contend this game Chief? I ask. follow on I will destine you, An old Indian game. I guide him to the hoops, placing my flip on his hold up wanting to ascertain his empty shell. vagabond the ball in the hole I tell him. I see that his type hardihood is blank, but his face is telling a thousand stories. Thats your mooring right there, dont move. Now, allot the ball. He appears hesitant. He quietly wraps his overwhelming turn over around the ball, his transfer as promiscuous as a kittens paw. Now lift your arms up. Up! I shout. The precaution is scruti... '