JOHN-J ANDERSON

ORGAN Chapter Eight Cast in concrete slum the car park sat resting, the weather was still on the darker side, the clouds held the sunshine at bay and every murky ray threatened to dowse the pavement in rain. Oscar took the opportunity of brief freedom offered to him by Nurse Beverly to take a walk around the floor, under her supervision of course, Beverly lingered around keeping herself in eye shot of the patient who dreamt up ideas staring desperately out the window at the free world. Oscar took the chance to spot the exits, last time he made a break for it he found himself caught out by the confusing signage looking for an exit into the car park, with time at hand he was carving mental notes of the various roads in and out onto the fleshy wrinkled walls of his brain.  “Bev, how often does that bus pass through?” Oscar asked inquisitively. His tone was light enough and Beverly’s interest minimal enough to not leave this question with any suspicion. Beverly put down her tea on the ...

ORGAN Chapter Seven That morning Oscar was given his breakfast by a nurse he did not recognise, which at this point was unusual for him, not that he knew every member of staff by name but now he could spot faces successfully from a distance. Naturally, Oscar did not have much to do while sitting prisoner in his new demoralising cell. Oscar could smell the nurse before he saw her, a perfume that smelt like his grandmother, it was floral but still somehow domestically musky, like the clothing section of a charity shop. Swinging his door open with force the nurse juggled with tray holding his breakfast and a polystyrene cup of tea that Oscar had begun requesting, it was something he could control at least while nothing else seemed within his power.  “Morning young man” the nurse said with pep as she made her way gingerly over to his bedside table and plonked down the tray with perhaps excessive carelessness.  “Morning” Oscar replied politely, “I haven’t seen you before, are you n...