HE, DID - The Iron Writer

Here's my submission to The Iron Writer. The elements were 1) frozen Venice, 2) a lame llama, 3) a straight jacket, and 4) settling a grudge via a thumb war.

HE, DID
by Brett A. Paul

“He really is the most amazing specimen you’ll see,” the nurse told me as we walked down the sterile hospital corridor toward the psychiatric ward.

“Let’s refer to him as the patient, please.”

“Sorry, doctor. His main personality and his alters talk with each other out loud. It’s eerie.”

We stopped in front of a door labeled “SAFE ROOM 1.” Below the label was a whiteboard with the name “Herman Engalls” scrawled on it. Above the label was a window that she unlatched and slid open, giving us a view into Herman’s padded cell.

The patient sat in the corner, wrapped in a straight jacket. He was bald, though looked young, perhaps twenty. Dark circles settled under each eye, and a scar crossed the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be having a conversation. I turned my head to listen.

In a high-pitched falsetto, he said, “Look at frozen Venice. Isn’t that amazing?” His eyes crossed a moment, as though looking at something held in right front of his face.

“That picture is a hoax!” he said in a deep voice. “The ice is from Russia and you know it!” This was the voice I would have expected from the man. He carried on, alternating between the voices.

“Liar! Your llama is lame!”

“You leave my lame llama alone!” He began to rock softly back and forth.

“Lame llama!”

“At least my llama is real!” He twisted against his bonds, then settled back against the wall again.

“But he’s laaaaaame!”

“You two shut up!” yelled an entirely different voice, his face contorted with anger. The scar flared an angry white.

Then his face relaxed and his breathing leveled out. The falsetto returned. “I know how to settle this.”

“I know what you’re going to say. If I win, you don’t get to talk about my llama.”

“Okay! One, two, three, four,” said the falsetto.

“I declare a thumb war!” answered the man’s voice.

The straight jacket began to wiggle on both sides, just under his elbows, where his thumbs were covered by canvas.

The nurse slid the window closed and looked at me. I met her eyes. “We’ve got a long way to go to get the personalities to trust each other,” I said. I took a deep breath and let it out. “Let me in, please.”


The story won second place, with feedback that I used the elements well, and criticism that I didn't use the 525 word allotment more fully. I can live with that.