Part 1 of the "Haunted Blades" ballad sequence.

6. Hospital of Dreams
(Ballad)

Prologue

There is a quiet in the mind
   Beyond the realm of dreams,
A hidden place that few can find
   That cancels out the screams

Of children trapped within the clutch
   Of nightmares manifold,
Dulling out their sense of touch,
   Until they are controlled.

These mindless children at the mercy
   Of analyzing brains,
They form a timeless controversy
   Over their dead remains.

—Alistair

Part 1

So say's the Grecian patron saint
   Of all forsaken children;
And yet, the story that I spin
   Comes out of that deep cauldron

Where death (and never life) begets
   The slumbers of the grave,
Spinning new nightmares from the darkness,
   Which makes the sane to rave.

It was a hospital of dreams,
   A psychiatric ward
That housed the inmates' bedlam woes,
   Wasting away, ignored.

It now stands as a testament
   To inhumanity
To fellow human sufferers,
   Each brick of masonry

A concrete witness to the crimes
   Committed for the science
Of saving lives, which are but lies
   Stuffed down their throats of silence!

Yet in my time, there used to be
   A special section where
Children like me would spend their days
   And nights in constant fear,

For we were children left behind,
   Abandoned to our fates,
No mother's love to soothe our bonds
   That tie us down like inmates.

Our days were spent beneath the scalpels
   Of cruel experimenters;
Our nights were spent in darkened silence,
   Dreaming of our tormentors

That caper past the edge of sight
   As demons in disguise,
Filling our dreams with constant dread
   Of their inhuman eyes;

And as the eldest of these children,
   Verging on my fifteenth year,
The burdens of their agony
   Rest on my shoulders bare.

On such a night, after my trial
   Was carried out on me,
I'm led into the passageway
   Beyond the agony

Of fellow inmates looking out
   From padded cells at me;
I'm tired, can barely walk or keep
   My balance, even see;

I'm but a little walking corpse
   Treading on weary feet,
Treading my way towards confinement
   In padded walls of concrete.

I'm led towards a padded door,
   Through which I pass myself in
A padded soundless cell of peace
   To ease my mental strife in.

The padded door now closes with
   A sudden muffled bang,
Encasing me inside my coffin,
   Locked with a muffled clang.

I lie myself upon the pads
   Beneath the dimming light
Above my head, then close my eyes
   And dream of dreams tonight.

Interlude 1

There is a darkness to the light,
   Staining the soul in shadows,
Where childhood innocence and might
   Encounter in deep hollows

The greatest fear amid all fears,
   Beating within all hearts;
And in the tracks of running tears,
   Tinged in their clearest parts,

Is found the tainting influence
   Of thoughtful devilry,
Accompanied by th' effluence
   Of hateful blasphemy.

—Alistair

Part 2

So say's the Grecian patron saint
   Of tainted innocence;
And now the world of shattered dreams
   Drives on my penitence.

Into the footless depths of darkness,
   I find myself outside the
Old palace of the Borderlands,
   A palace by the sea

Where djinn are said to live and dine *
   Upon the sacrificial days;
An after-haze of smokeless fire
   Still lingers in the byways

Beyond the mirthless gates and walls
   That still surround the place.
It is a world abandoned by
   An old ethereal race

Of men that came before the current
   Days of our present day;
Such were those days of sacrifice,
   I feel it all the way

Down to the marrow of my bones,
   Wherein all fear resides—
Down to the depths of human instinct
   Where this fearful patient hides—

Down to the handle of my blade
   Where the slash of death provides
Me with the courage on my quest
To slay tormentors as my test,
   Whereon their blood decides

The fate of all my bedlam mates,
   Adults and children both.
So armed with vorpal blade in hand, **
Ere trekking through this Borderland,
   I take upon my oath:

"Great Alistair, please guide my blade
   Into the hearts of monsters,
Those heartless demons with their scalpels,
   Those human-faced impostors!"

And so I trek into the gates
   To execute my justice;
I'll show those monsters what it means
   To double-cross our trust is!

The inner palace walls lie still
   To crumble into dust;
The leafless garden trees lie mute
   Against the seaside thrust

Of wind upon the distant banks
   That whisper of souls lost;
Only the distant breaking waves
   Echo on the rocky crust

That forms the beach adjacent to
   The palace of the djinn.
I surge ahead along the path
   Towards the entrance in

The expectation of attack
   Inside this wooded garden
Before I gain the entrance door;
   Perhaps a hidden guard in

One of the hiding places of
   This garden of the dead
Is scouting me within the tress,
   Filling my thoughts with dread.

And yet I keep my courage true
   Beneath the gibbous moonlight,
Advancing with the fate of death
   Upon my blade of starlight,

And as I reach the steps upon
   The threshold of the door,
A score of djinn emerge out of
   A haze of smokeless vapor;

I grip my blade in both my hands
   And take a ready stance,
Preparing on attacking them
   Before they have a chance!

I lunge and flail my blade about
   To cut them down to size,
And yet I only slice the air
   To my disbelieving eyes;

So now they circle 'round about me,
   Fearless of my attacks,
And ere I take another swipe,
   They bid me to relax.

I stay my blade but keep my guard
   In silence; so they say,
"What is the meaning of your presence?
   What brings your feet this way?"

And on their words of inquiry,
   A darkness overflows
My spirit in a spreading pool
   Of bloody vitriol on those

Who torture all my fellow inmates,
   Experimenting on them;
I say, "I'm here to seek revenge
   On doctors, all of them,
Who drug my fellow inmates with
   The side effect of phlegm!" ***

"A pact with us will get it done,
   If only for a price,"
They say, and in my heart I know
   That 'price' means sacrifice.

"What price of sacrifice must I
   Do, if must I accept?"
I say in my defense; they say,
   "A sacrifice we've kept
In blood within our dining halls
   Is all we'll intercept.

"The blood of anyone will do,
   As long as it is human;
But we do favor blood from those
   Who have a high acumen
For the sciences of life and death
   And everything inhuman."

And so I smile a wicked smile
   That stretches out my lips,
Because th' asylum's full of those
Who love to torture (heaven knows!)
   Patients with their scalpel tips.

"I'll gladly shed the blood of those
   Who torture day and night,
Sating their twisted torture-binge!"
I say, impassioned with revenge.
   "I'll kill them all tonight!"

So in consenting to their whims,
   I drift into the darkness,
Returning softly to my bed,
   Revengeful, even heartless.

Interlude 2

Into the depths of utter darkness
   Exists a touch of virtue;
Although the world may seem so heartless,
   It need not ever hurt you.

If you can redefine your station
   And your state of self therein,
You'll find yourself without frustration
   Over the Hell within,

Because the mind's a battlefield:
   It takes as well as gives.
Be not afraid, nor hide, nor yield
   To the world's bloody knives.

—Alistair

Part 3

So say's the Grecian patron saint
   Upon this monster-slayer;
And so I take upon myself
   This bladed cross of prayer,

And with the backing of the djinn,
   I wake my soul to action,
Projecting out my soul from body
   In sharp but brief extraction,

Leaving my mortal body there
   Within the cell unmoving,
From which I see the silver chord
   Body and soul still linking.

I turn my sights towards the wrongs
   That beckons to be righted,
And with my vorpal blade in hand,
   I stalk out so excited

That I now feel myself to smile
   At future retributions,
Those callous doctors unaware
   Of their own executions!

To help me in this vengeful venture,
   The djinn lock all the doors
That lead to exits to outside,
   Trapping the staff indoors.

I stalk along the corridors
   And look through every door,
Looking about for my tormentors
   On each and every floor.

The first I spot's an orderly
   Of elderly appearance;
At first I think of killing her
   For her role's adherence
To carry out the doctors' orders,
   But then her disappearance

Would cause the guards to call in backup,
   Endangering my plan,
Even when no one can see me
   With the help of djinn who can
Conceal my presence from this earth;
Ah well, this aging crone's not worth
   The risking of the program.

But just as I'm about to pass
   Her by without her killed,
I whirl around with blade in hand,
Slicing open her thyroid gland
   From which blood sprayed and spilled,

Staining the walls and floor with gore.
   I know the actions that
I take are kind of twisted, yes;
   Then again, you know what?

Within this awesome killing spree,
   I do not give a damn!
And so I go through corridors,
   Continuing the program

Of splaying guts onto the floors
   And decorating walls
With the flying sprays of blood
   Within this maze of halls.

I slash and cut through orderlies
   And massacre the guards,
Filling this asylum with their screams,
Making nightmares out of their worst dreams,
   Gutting this house of cards.

With orderlies and guards now dead,
   The surge of vengeance grows,
Because those evil doctors are
The ones that do not have a prayer—
   The ones I will impose

My harshest retributions on
   Their unrepentant souls;
So help me God, so help me djinn,
   I'll send them to the ghouls!

And so I stalk the whole asylum
   In search of only doctors,
But in my search I cannot find
   Any of those damn monsters!

Then presently I ask the djinn
   Where all those doctors are,
And in return they said to me,
   "Most of them are very far

"Away within their homes tonight,
   Except for three nearby
Hiding inside their office rooms;
We'll kill the ones within their homes,
   While you kill those close by."

And so I stalk the corridors
   And search in every room,
Itching to use my vorpal blade
   To bring about their doom.

The first I come across is but
   A youth in doctor's clothes,
Checking each patient's data folder,
Perhaps an intern to an older
   Doctor with more skill (who knows).

But young or old, I do not care;
   I want to make a kill
Upon the first of this trifecta,
Commencing this revenge-perfecta
   To get my glory's fill.

And so I sneak in through the door
   While he has his back turned,
Re-shelving all the folders on
   The back shelf, unconcerned

With anybody lurking through
   The shadows with a mind
For murder on my vorpal blade,
   Stalking closer behind.

And so I creep on tiptoed feet,
   As silent as a phantom,
Raising my blade up in the air,
   Invisible and bantam ****

Within my phantom cloak the djinn
   Enrobed me in tonight,
Biding my time to see him flinch
   And turn around in fright!

Flinching he begins to turn around,
   And now I plunge the blade
Right through his fleshy clavicle,
   From which the blood now sprayed
With screams accompanied with groans,
   Dropping him with his arms splayed!

A spreading pool of blood collects
   Upon the office floor,
Filling the air with an iron taste
   As I stalk out the door.

And so I stalk the corridors
   And search in every room,
Itching to use my vorpal blade
   To bring about more doom.

The second one is middle-aged
   And practiced with a scalpel,
Now armed with many scalpels in
   His pockets—hands as well.

But he's no match for someone he
   Can't see or even touch;
Nothing he does will make much difference
   With my blade inside my clutch.

And so I tip-toe forward now
   So phantom-like, unseen,
That I become way too excited—
   So much so it's obscene!

I cackle, and the echo sounds
   Within the silent hall,
Scaring the man to turn his head
   And nearly take a fall.

But as he rallies from his fears,
   He says in bitter words,
"You think you'll get away with this,
   Treating us all like herds?
You animals deserve to die
   And jelly up like curds!"

Enraged at him, I lash out twice
   And splatter all his guts
Out of his stomach where he stands
   In shock from painless cuts!

The blood and guts now splatter on
   The floor in his surprise,
And now he falls upon his knees
   With tears upon his eyes,
Putting his guts back in his belly
   As he slowly—slowly—dies . . .

He fades away in murmuring
   Some incoherent words;
The pool of blood, now spreading fast,
   Coagulate like curds.

And with the guts now lying there
   Bringing up such a stink,
I say some words upon the air,
   "I'm faster than you think."

And so I stalk the corridors
   And search in every room,
Itching to use my vorpal blade
   To bring a final doom.

The very last I need to kill
   Takes quite some time to look for,
As though the doctor knew his time
   Was shorter on the first floor.

And so I stalked through all the rooms
   Inside the first floor where
I found him on his knees now mourning
   The young assistant killed there,
The youngest doctor I dispatched
   Before this final nightmare.

I walk to him still crying there
   To end his suffering,
Because it enters in my brain
   That I took everything

That matters to him more than life—
   His son, the young assistant,
I killed for his remote connection
With his own father's vile profession,
   Now dead and nonexistent.

But as I walk to him, he looks
   In my direction with
The eyes of someone who can see
   The ghostly kin and kith.

He says with tears within his eyes,
   "You took my son away!
He had no part in all of this!"
   And so I pause and say,

"May God have mercy on your soul,
   Because I never will."
And then I slash across his throat,
   Making my final kill.

So with that final killing stroke,
   My curse is rectified
Upon the blood of bleeding monsters
   Who by my blade have died.

And so I walk back to my cell
   Wherein I'm slumbering,
Glancing upon my fellow inmates
   I freed from everything
That terrified with demon eyes
And fooled us with a thousand lies—
   I did the proper thing!

And so I enter in my cell
   And lay within my body
To slumber off the sleep of death,
   For death I now embody.

Epilogue

Become the knife of vengeance laid
   Upon the sinner's soul,
Because true justice needs a blade
   That steals back what he stole.

For through the blood of sacrifice
   That purifies the spirit,
It balances the fatal price
   Of those who try to shear it.

For you're the shadow of each dream
   That brings on sudden death!
You are the one that makes them scream
   Upon their dying breath!

—Alistair

(To be continued...)

A/N: Written on July 2016. Finally, it's finished. Just like the previous piece, this took quite a while to write, but not quite as long, thank God. This is another murder ballad, with a dark fantasy/supernatural bent to the murder ballad genre. It's delectably twisted. ( ^_^ )

* Djinn = (n.) Arabic: supernatural entities made of smokeless fire.
** Vorpal Blade = (n.) Vorpal blade from Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky."
*** Phlegm = (n.) apathy through an absence of emotional reactions.
**** Bantam = (adj.) very small.