Lost Names

For some reason the man couldn’t remember his name. He couldn’t remember anything as of now, except one. He was supposed to be mad. He didn’t feel mad- as in crazy. He felt confused and lost.
He had woken up in a straight jacket in the car taking him to asylum. After thinking about it he thought he could be crazy. Maybe. The reality still wasn’t setting in the panic of thought of how to get out. The way he saw it this was just a problem he just needed to talk to the people and they would let him go, it wasn’t like that.
When someone came to get him out of the car and opened the door he began to talk but all words left his mouth. Two men had grabbed him and held him tight as though they expected him to run. He still didn’t feel panic or fear just calm resolution. I just need to make them understand. That was what he thought but it didn’t happen that way.
“I’m not crazy.” He said for the first try. They ignored him. “I’m really not I just want to go home.” Again nothing they were moving closer to the door a tall gray building behind it. “Let me go, I’m not crazy!” He yelled in slight frustration. The men ignored him keeping their silent staring eyes straight forward. Realizing most of the prisoners probably said this he stopped and he thought for a while.
“I’m not crazy I can prove it, let me do any test any at all. I’ll do them.” He said panic making his voice octave higher at the end. “Please, I need to see my family!” He screamed panic now making his blood run cold.
Family, came a bated thought at the back of his mind, what family? He couldn’t remember, yet could remember some family. Just not what family exactly but knew he had some. A new word popped into his head and he made his last plea. “Please wait I just have amnesia!”
He said now his life making sense and things beginning to untangle. That was it that was what had happened. The men paused for a moment, but it was only a moment. When he was brought inside the lady at the desk looked at the men. “Another crazy, thinks he has amnesia!” One of the men said and at this let out a hearty laugh.
The women looked at him staring into his face knowing that this would be his last chance he said. “Wait it’s true, please let me go, please.” He said his voice drifting down to a whisper. Her hawk like face looked at him for a moment longer. “Cell D56, padded, take off jacket.” She said in a monotone voice. He began to lose himself in panic and shouted, screaming. “No please help, my family! They need me help!” he shouted even though he knew this made his case look worse. Seconds later around the corner he lost hope and resigned himself to his fate.
~ ~ ~

That had been days ago. Meager food came through a slot and there was a bathroom in his cell. The only good thing he could see in this was that his arms were now free. All the walls were padded and he presumed they were there so he couldn’t hurt himself.
Life had gone out of him he couldn’t think and couldn’t feel just sit there staring occasionally doing something in this line of dull gray. His memory had for the most part returned, except one thing. The thing that now haunted him, his name. He felt that it was so important that it would be the one thing to save him. He could remember having a wife and a little girl that depended on him. Just not their names.
Name that he should know. His memory was whole except for names and he almost drove himself crazy thinking about it. He thought of every name yet none of them fit. He knew that he could get out of here with his name but nothing came. And so he waited day after day. Until the day he now called ‘Octoluse’ the word that in a forgotten language means light, freedom, and devil’s awakening. Which one it was for him, well that will soon be revealed.
~ ~ ~

He woke up on a normal day. It was spring and rain clouds had gathered making the earth shrouded in gray as though waiting for a funeral. He got his first meal that morning and ate it slowly as it was pretty much the only thing that he could do to pass the time.
He heard thunder roll and pound outside his window and thought nothing of it. His spirit had broken but somehow that deep rhythm haunted him. Thunder, thunder, pounding, pounding; the words tumbled in his head nothing making sense.
Then as though struck by lightning he sat bolt upright. Thunder, that my name my true name. The one which I was given, he knew that the person who brought him food had taken to calling him Andrew.
Tiaeta his true name meant thunder, broken one, or luck. With this brought new and exciting memories and thought which filled in every hole in his memory. Tiaeta that name brought with it strength to his body. “Tiaeta!” He screamed loud. Thunder burst around him breaking his cell, destroying the building that had held him, only leaving him alive.
Cackling to himself he threw his arms to the sky, he wasn’t crazy, yet. And there is one last thing you should know. Tiaeta also translates to the bringer of death; better know as the devil himself.

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