It's a Wonderful Death


by Glen Proctor

Alex Knatt sat before a man who represented everything he despised. He hated nothing more in life than a psychiatrist, this psychiatrist, this Doctor Jonathan Worthington. This overly educated, super-professional was the quintessential blond haired, blue-eyed, alpha male. He was tall, handsome and fashionable, wearing clothes that fit just like they do on the mannequins in the windows. He was exactly what the Nazi's had tried to genetically perfect. He was in fact perfect. He was everything Alex Knatt was not and yet this uber-man had been given the task of questioning Alex. Alex was sure he could take the torture, he could take a lot, after all he had only recently died.


"Well Mister Knatt, where would you like to start?" asked Dr. Worthington, casually taking off his extremely thin glasses that Alex was damn sure he didn't need.

"I wouldn't," is what he wanted to say but Alex knew better. Confrontation was what they wanted, what they liked. You played into their hands that way. It only gave them more questions to ask. Alex just shrugged his shoulders.

"Then let's start with the dreams."

The dreams, thought Alex, those were Alex's dreams and no one else's. How unfair, how infinitely cruel that some psycho-swine had the privilege of knowing about his dreams. He wouldn't give up those wonders just yet. He had to stall until he could come up with a plan of action.





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