Aberrant Psychology Part 11

7 Sep

Journal of E. Pinter September 30th 2012

Last night after I had finished my journal entry I found myself restless and got in my car and drove to the lakeshore. It was a mild night and still early enough for people to be sitting with their families toasting marshmallows around campfires. I walked further down the beach where the coast was less hospitable.

The algae coated rocks made walking quite perilous but my mind was caught up in all I had read and ignored the risk. It was dark with only the moon and the flashlight on my phone to light the way and my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I kept seeing something just at the edge of my peripheral vision, something bright like the strike of a match but when I turned my head it was gone.

Had I read something about phosphorous pollution? Could this be what I saw or perhaps some suicidal fireflies?

Just ahead there was an old jetty that was just perfect for sitting in crosslegged contemplation. It was windier at the end of the jetty than it had been on shore and it picked up a fine spray from the lake as it blew across. I shut my eyes and mind so that I could feel the environment. There was something incredibly relaxing about allowing the wind to wreak havoc with my hair as the waves rebounded gently on the rocks. I felt like if I just let go, the gravity that was holding me anchored would release it’s hold and the wind would toss me about like a freed balloon.

I was imagining voices coming from behind. Voices like the call of a nightbird or the howl of a wolf. But there were no wolves here, a dog perhaps, yes a dog calling for it’s human. When I turned around to look I was surprised to see a thick white fog rolling towards me making it impossible to tell where the shore was anymore. And in that fog the sound of paws scrambling on the rocks. Any minute now I expected to hear a whistle, a voice call out and the paws retreat. But on they came slowly and with purpose, I could see a shape, bulky with fur bristling. It’s eyes were bright. I refuse to say they glowed but there was an intelligence there. It stopped just inches from where I was sitting, studying me.

It looked exactly like a wolf. But that was impossible because as I said there are no wolves here unless one escaped from the zoo. But that was impossible… Wasn’t it? It must be one of those hybrids like a Malamute or a King Shepherd. It inched closer and I could feel it’s nose on my hand. It’s eyes never left mine as it imprinted my scent on it’s memory. And then it was gone. I felt drained. And more than anything I wished I was home in bed but I had to wait for the fog to lift.



Stay Tuned

4 Sep

There are many dark tales coming your way; some funny and some not so much.

Aberrant Psychology Continues

4 Sep

Starting September 7th.

Aberrant Psychology Part 10

31 Dec

Journal of E. Pinter  September 29th 2012

According to my grandmother’s notes everything changed for Nadia with the arrival of her new English tutor. His name was Sebastian Barrett and he had just published a novel that was the rage of the literate world. In truth he was not an educator but between Nadia’s mothers determination and her father’s pocketbook Sebastian Barrett succumbed and agreed to spend the next two seasons filling Nadia with all things English.

When Sebastian arrived it became very apparent that he would not be their usual run of the mill tutor. They would have to make accommodations. As it turned out Mr. Barrett was plagued by insomnia and was unable to fall asleep until dawn. So Nadia’s lessons had to be held at night. Mr. Barrett was also very particular about his diet. He ate nothing but steak tartar served with a raw egg and caviar and he drank nothing but the wine he brought with him and kept in his rooms.

He had one servant, a Chinese youth who spoke no English as far as anyone could tell but seemed to understand his masters needs without receiving orders. The servant’s name was Hung and he wore a loose black suit with the most expensive boots that Nadia had ever seen. The leather they were fashioned from was so soft that it looked to have been molded right on his foot.

Nadia had never seen a Chinese person before and she found him to be exceptionally beautiful. She had to force her eyes away from him whenever he was present because otherwise she could be lost in his face for hours.

Sebastian on the other hand she found a boor. It was evident from the first that he was not going to take his assignment seriously and that he was going to use the time they had together to seduce her. Granted he was devastatingly good-looking but his persistence made him quite unattractive.

If only he was as fascinating as his book. Then she might have allowed him to make love to her. In his book he reveals a world that comes alive when night falls. A world inhabited by creatures of beyond imagination. Creatures that feed on humanity in every way possible and who will go on feeding until the end of time. Some of these creatures she recognized. Vampires have long been a part of Russian lore as have were creatures and ghosts that steal the souls of those who sleep but she had never read about them like this. It made her want to leave her safe, snug bedroom with it’s roaring fire to go walking amongst the darkened streets in hopes of catching glimpse of one of these creatures. She would sit for hours in front of her mirror pulling down her bodice so that her neck and breasts were revealed and imagining the feel of sharp teeth piercing her flesh.

Sebastian was getting increasingly more aggressive in his pursuit of her. She had slapped him more than once. The last time he had the audacity to raise his hand to her. If it hadn’t been for his servant she was positive that she would have been raped. She considered telling her parents about this. In fact she had been about to knock on her mother’s door when it struck her that if Sebastian left then so would Hung.

Now when she sat in front of the mirror it was Hung who’s breath she felt on her neck. It was Hung who was everything.

Aberrant Psychology 9

18 Dec

“Will you help me?” She said.

I reached out thinking to reassure her. She laughed

“I thought you wanted it to stop.” She said.

“I only meant to …”

“I cannot fight my nature if you touch me. It is hard enough now.

I knew I was out of my depth. I was still only a resident with nowhere near enough knowledge to start my own practice. I needed to convince her … Her? He?And the she looked nothing like the man who had so nearly become an obsession. That in itself was enough to disqualify me as the right person to help her. I needed to convince her that the best way for me to help her was to introduce her to my mentor Dr. Metz.

My face must have betrayed my line of thought because her gaze grew so intense I felt assaulted, as if a slender blade had entered my heart and was twisting. It became increasingly difficult to breathe.

I can’t remember her crossing the room yet I felt her all around me. I felt her breath in my ear, so hot and wet like steam from a volcanic pool. I felt her leg graze mine and then fuse but I heard his voice.

“Help me.”

“I want to help you. I just don’t think I am qualified to…”

“You are the only one who can see me Magdalene.” She said.

The sound of the doorknob rattling almost made me leap out of my skin. Her smile chilled me even as the presence of the Maggs the night orderly, lit a fire under my resolve.

“Good evening Maggs.” I said.

“And to you Miss. Anything I can help you with?”

“No. I’m just trying to persuade this young lady “ I turned to face her. “that she should consult Dr. Metz regarding her troubles.”

I will never forget the look on Magg’s face or hers.


“I was just about to tell her that I am only a resident and as such can not take on patients of my own when ….”

Maggs booming laugh resonated through the corridor.

“You almost had me Miss and that’s the truth. I was this close to strapping you to the bed and calling Metz himself.”

I must have looked bewildered because he just kept going.

“Stop now. I don’t think I can take any more. The look on your face like I’m the lunatic. Have a good night.” He continued his way down the hall checking doors as he went.

“I told you.” She was lying on the bed.

The reality of my situation finally sunk in. I was insane. I sank to the floor in shock.

“I guess about now you are doubting your sanity.” She said. “You are seriously debating whether or not you should confess all of this to your precious mentor.”

I put my hands over my ears.

“I am not a hallucination. You might as well come to terms with that now Just as you should come to terms with the fact that the man upstairs who keeps turning up naked and dreams of stalking prey is really a werewolf. There is substance to the things that go bump in the night. Now you have a choice. You can fold inwards like so many of you do and take refuge in the delusion of your being insane or you can open your eyes wide and truly see what and who walks amongst you.”

Why could I hear her so clearly? My hands were clasped so tightly over my ears that they were numb. But of course the laws that governed the sane world held no sway for me now. I began to laugh hysterically.

“I am sorry. I must have mistaken your determination to succeed in a career laden with so many near insurmountable obstacles for strength. I guess I was wrong. You are not strong at all. You are simply stubborn. You are right you can’t help me.”

She was all around me. Her hands were pushing me down as she whispered.

“How about one for old times sake? After all you have nothing to lose now. Have you?”

Her voice was husky. I could feel her soft body grow hard and her passion ruthless. God dammit I would not be plagued by this. If I were to be crazy I refused to be diagnosed with the same malady as every other woman in this place. I was not a sexual hysteric. I was incensed.

It was in that moment that something in me shifted and I found myself inexplicably doing two things. I found myself throwing my seducer onto his back and I believing that there was much, much more to my world than met most people’s eye. The man upstairs was a were wolf and the man/woman who was making me shudder with pleasure was for all I knew a demon.

I lay my cheek against his.

“Tell me your story.”

Aberrant Psychology Part 8

12 Dec

Journal of E. Pinter     September 12, 2012

I have read and re-read Nadia’s files and have come to the conclusion that my grandmother was wrong. Not that I would have likely done anything differently in her case, my grandmother was definitely a forward thinker and completely ahead of her time but psychiatry has changed so much that unless you are still in the academic loop of it you will find it impossible to keep up. Since my job was tied into the Justice system I was up to the millisecond. So while I did not fault my grandmother for diagnosing Nadia with an eating disorder and using hypnosis to abate it after the shock treatment had failed; I do not share her diagnosis. I believe that Nadia is suffering from PTSD and that the Bulimia is a symptom of that.

The problem of course is that Nadia is completely dependent on hypnosis and any suggestion of stopping produces in her severe anxiety. How can I wean her from this band-aid?

According to the files Nadia was born in Georgia to  wealthy “white” Russian family that boasted of an ancestral tree that spanned centuries. Her date of birth is unclear. I cannot tell if my grandmother has written 1895 or 1395. It may even be something completely different so I must base her age on the details of the story itself.

It seems she was a happy child, much-loved and pampered. She had 4 brothers and a baby sister. Her mother was a remarkable woman for any time but in particular for hers since she was fully educated and insisted on it for her daughter as well. And since it was impossible for Nadia to attend university because of the restrictions due her gender, her mother hired the foremost scholars of the time to teach Nadia everything there was to know about astronomy,philosophy,literature,art and mathematics. Nadia became an accomplished musician and by the age of ten had composed several operas.

I wondered if perhaps music might provide an entranceway for me. I had achieved a significant amount of success using the arts to access aspects of the sociopath where traditional talk therapy failed. It was worth a try.I would rent a piano and see how Nadia reacted. If of course she returned at all. I have not seen her since the night she threw herself from my window. I suspect however that she is keeping her eye on me. There have been a number of incidents where I would swear I am not alone although the evidence would suggest otherwise.

This could also be due to my inability to get more than 3 hours of sleep. I am no stranger to the occasional bout of insomnia but this is completely different. I have no trouble falling asleep, in fact there is something about this house that makes it quite difficult at times to stay awake. And while the idea of closing my eyes and allowing myself to drift off is a seductive one, I know that within seconds of REM I will be thrust headlong into another of the vivid dreams I have been inundated with. These dreams are the reason I am exhausted and the cause of my aching body. What really bothers me though is my inability to control them.

I have been a practitioner of lucid dreaming since I was a child. It was something my grandmother taught me when I used to have nightmares after the fire. But none of the techniques she taught me or any of the additional tricks I picked up myself work on these dreams and I am wondering if perhaps they are coming from a different and much deeper part of my unconscious. I also wonder if they are stemming from the fact that within less than two weeks I will start seeing my grandmother’s patients.

April 6, 19…

I am unable to get more than a handful of sleep a night ever since my experience in the Nightmare Ward. If this persists I will drop on my feet. As it is I am terrified that my dreams are manifesting themselves outwardly. I have seen women in the throes of subconscious passion and I would be mortified beyond belief if I too was displaying such overt sexuality. Not that I am a prude, I have been sexually active in one way or another since puberty. I have never understood the fuss placed on the sanctity of sexual concourse. But then I will admit I have always been a bit of a sensualist. In honesty I have always believed that it is a balance to the obsession I have with my intellectual development. Regardless, I have always felt it to be healthy until now. Now I can think of nothing, dream about nothing but the man in the Nightmare Ward and whenever I think of him my body craves his touch.

Today I will begin my training with Dr. Hagar Wolff. She is the leader in the field of psychiatric hypnosis and has achieved the most miraculous effects in those who suffer from phobias and all other obsessive thought. Needless to say it is a lengthy process and not all patients are capable of trance so electro shock therapy is still a more practical solution. However I am intrigued and am looking forward to meeting this brilliant woman. It is rumored that she was once romantically entangled with the notorious Dr. Charlotte Wolff.

April 13, 19….

I have been ill. Shortly after my first session with Hagar, she insists on this informality with all her students, I found myself becoming perilously weak. So weak in fact that I was unable to make it to the infirmary before the hallway went black and I collapsed on the floor. It was not a true faint since I was still aware of my surroundings but I was unable to move or speak. At first it was like being struck blind and I had nothing but the echoing cacophony of the heavy hospital traffic to tell me where I was. Eventually with the agonizing slowness of a garden snail my eyes began to clear and I could see again.

My re-found vision only added to the horror of my paralysis since the first thing I saw was him. Him standing over me. Him raising my skirts and running his hands over my thighs. Him slowly, tantalizingly running his tongue down my neck to my collarbone to…

I was told that two nurses found me and helped get me to the infirmary where I have been battling fever for almost a week. Knowing that my phantom male is able to move freely about the hospital has frightened me more than I can say. Tonight will be my first night back on duty. I will be watching over the Nightmare Ward and I will  end this.


I was such a fool to think this would ever end.and even more of one to think that reality was so cut and dry. There truly are things that exist outside our dreams that we could not even begin to imagine. I know I sound mad. I only wish I was for what I have learned tonight has made me question almost everything I have learned about the subject. It horrifies me to think of all the patients here who complain of demons and monsters tormenting them, or telling us that they can only exist by drinking blood or that they transform into monsters or that their lovers are demons and we place electrodes on their heads and send thousands of volts of electricity coursing through their veins to dislodge the obsession. Sometimes when a patient is terrified to the point of hysteria by something; we subject them to that thing repeatedly to accustom them to it. I have seen grown men drooling in fear when compelled to watch a spider crawl across a table. And I too have made callous jokes about those here who are plagued by those who are unseen. I have not failed to see the irony.

It happened almost immediately. I had just unlocked the outer doors that separate the Nightmare Ward from the rest of the wing when I found myself thrown up against the wall. but this time I fought back, not with blows but with indifference. This was not easy.because when he touches me I do not want him to stop until I am either dead from exhaustion or just plain dead. I do not know where I managed to find the strength but I found enough for him to stop and consider me.

“If you want me to help you, then this must stop.” I said.

There was no expression on his face as it changed. He was not at all what I expected. He was a she.

Aberrant Psychology Part 7

6 Dec

April 5, 19…

The Nightmare Ward was so astonishingly quiet when I arrived that I had to stand and study each patient to ensure that their rib cages were rising and falling and not stilled in death. Patient B was not asleep at all. She was sitting quietly rocking herself until she noticed my peering. As I said before Patient B is an invert and while my exposure to them has been mostly with the males I was not intimidated by the notion that Patient B might actually find me attractive.

In fact if I am going to be entirely truthful I will have to admit that I find the prospect somewhat thrilling. Not that I myself have any tendencies in that direction but I do find the idea of being the object of someones most intimate fantasies more than a little stimulating. I have never considered myself to be a very attractive person. Intelligent, capable yes but visually pleasing? No. So I suppose if I were to have an Achilles Heel it would be this.

Patient B would be considered beautiful by most standards if it were not for a thin scar that runs from the corner of her eye to the corner of her upper lip. It is not livid. In fact you barely notice it at all unless the light catches it and then it reflects slightly silver in contrast to her dark olive complexion. Her file says she got it in a fight with a pimp, a fight she won. She was not a prostitute. There are so many things I would like to ask her. But I am not permitted.

She is studying me now. I cannot tell what she is thinking. Her face is completely closed. But then her eyes narrow and she stretches like a cat and I can see that she is percolating something. I think perhaps it is best if I move on to Patient C. My feet won’t move. I swear I try to take a step and it feels like I am rooted to the floor so deeply that I will die and turn to dust here. I can feel her eyes travel across the planes of my face and settle on my lips. And yet how can I know this.? I am staring fixedly at my feet. My feet which are now moving, not down the hallway where I want them most desperately to go but back. I am moving back away from the door. And then I stop just far enough for the door to open one smooth centimeter at a time. I am being seduced by it’s precision. I have no control over my body except to breathe and even that I am not sure of.

I am no longer staring at my feet. In fact I am oblivious to them. I am oblivious to everything but her eyes. Her eyes? No not her eyes. His eyes and yet… Are they not the same? An infinitesimal voice in my head seems to be concerned about the door I did not open. I think perhaps I should be concerned about whether the eyes are male or female and yet my mostly inexperienced body is experiencing far more than I would have believed possible.

I am naked. I do not remember shedding my clothes. I am suspended somewhere near the ceiling and although he is taking me from behind I see his eyes in front of me. And I see in his eyes that he knows that I can no longer be with anyone else which makes me scream in fury into the palm of his hand.

“Help me.” He  said “And I will make you feel this way forever.”

“I do not want this.” I said.

His laughter echoed in my ears “No.” He said. “You do not want this.”

I found myself on the other side of  closed-door, fully clothed and without a hair out-of-place. The room was empty and so was I. The hallway filled with the songs of nightmares. I pressed the alarm bell to signal Patient B’s escape.

It took less than three minutes for the orderlies to arrive. It took less than 40 seconds for me to learn that Patient B had been discharged that morning. What was happening to me?