Creative Writing: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

Standing on the tips of my toes, I was able to see out of a nearby window. I was perfectly right in my assumptions, and to my disappointment, the rain was pouring down just as hard as it had been for a while, now.

Luckily, I was prepared. Beside the door was an umbrella, and while I knew that Tod would probably want to stay dry, I also had the knowledge that we owned more than one umbrella. If he wanted one, all he would have had to do was ask my father. I just hoped he would be brave enough to ask my father.

Opening up my umbrella and walking outside, I found the sound of the rain to be quite pleasant. The majority of the uncomfortable wetness was no longer a concern, and now I could simply focus on getting to the federal prison and enjoying

One doesn't have friends; they merely have allies. There is no such thing as love, only fear and obsession control the mind. Emotion stands for nothing but a well-placed hurdle, and logic was invented to keep death at bay, but in the end, both are futile."

I looked up. "So... what stands in the end?"

"Nothing does," he answered. "Nothing does, Sylvia. Even morality abandons you, when all you have left is fighting instinct and misery. One collects what little they can over the span of their movement, and when breath leaves them, the others scavenge what they can. We're all cannibals, cannibals of the will. Eating each other's hopes and dreams and treasures so we can become fat by the time new cannibals come to do the same thing. It's nothing more than entropy."

"In that case..." I asked, "Where do you think truth stands?"

"Truth?" he scoffed. "Truth was made up in order to keep people sane. If it wasn't for that clever fabrication, then we'd all be at each other's throats. We still are, though. It's a broken system, and it's outdated. We have tradition and aristocracy and dignity, now."

"...who taught you to believe that?" I asked, just speaking above a