Can we talk about something else? Can we talk about something else? The The Hello. Hello?

Out there.

The following is a revamp version of a true story I had archived in the padded room of

Patreon. An intimate little offering that I felt deserved to be dusted off and fixed up a little.

An episode that made me feel crazy as I wrote it and I'm sure at times will show.

Dark Topic isn't always going to be serial killers and despicable crimes. Sometimes I want to get a little more creative, weird.

So in that spirit I hope you'll join me for a visit to Early Bedlam. I have many vivid memories from my childhood.

I have many vivid memories from my childhood.

I've learned that this is odd for my friends who seem

to only remember snippets, but I can remember entire mornings, afternoons, and evenings.

I often recall being recently turned four years old

and playing out in front of our house in the snow.

A house that was surrounded by a mental hospital, a jail, and a church.

I remember rolling a snowball into the base for a snowman.

I rolled it until I could roll it no more, then turned to look at our home.

My mom and dad were standing in the window with their arms around each other.

It's the only good memory I have of the two of them together. The rest is pure chaos. I think that what

preserves that memory is the frame that surrounds it, the screaming, the fighting, the being

awoken in the night and having to run at the door for help. All these

impactful parts of my early childhood create a dark

swirling frame about this one image I have a stability early on.

They say you remember the oddest things, the things that are unusual, that stand out, the outstanding things, how about, and for me seeing my parents

...