4 January 2018
A Taster from A Justifiable Madness by AB Morgan
Mark deftly removed the last remaining item of clothing between dignity and nudity: the sarong around his waist. He departed through the train doors almost directly from the toilet where he had left his oldest t-shirt and abandoned his train ticket.
It had been a warm night for the first week in September, and there was not even the slightest hint of chill in the early morning air. In fact it was quite muggy, heralding a hot oppressive day ahead for those off to work in the city. Facing Mark, as he alighted from the train, was a sea of commuters. Most were jostling their way past other travellers, pushing through train doors, desperate to find an available seat. Those in his direct path gave Mark a very wide berth indeed. Bare and exposed for all to see, with arms outstretched, he looked up to the heavens. Strolling slowly and deliberately further onto the platform, he muttered a language of vague Arabic origin.
Having caused more than a bit of a stir, he stopped abruptly and honed in on a bespectacled man in the crowd. Lowering his head, Mark stared him directly in the eye. Then, in a theatrical manner, he placed his hands gently upon the man’s shoulders and let loose a stream of incantations, as if striving to produce a public miracle healing.
The shocked commuter remained motionless, his eyes beseeching his fellow travellers to intervene; none did, and no rescue was forthcoming from any quarter. People in the crowds were finding it difficult to avoid coming into contact with Mark because of the heaving mass of humankind squashed onto the platform, endeavouring to access their morning trains.
Mark then raised his game in both volume and behaviour. He began to chant, and to spin like a Dervish with his arms again outstretched. Every now and then he would punctuate his rotations by halting without warning, to lovingly touch and bless whosoever he could target. He gazed down upon those he was praying for, mesmerising them with his hypnotic eyes and melodic prayers.
Mark looked magnificent. His long dark wavy hair was flowing across his shoulders, and his lean muscular body was tanned and glistening with nervous sweat. He was so tall that, nudity notwithstanding; he was already easily distinguishable from the surrounding throng.
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What is this book about?
Can you really tell the difference between madness and sanity?
Mark Randall goes to great lengths to get himself admitted to an acute psychiatric ward and, despite being mute, convinces professionals that he is psychotic. But who is he and why is he so keen to spend time in a psychiatric hospital?
When Mark is admitted, silent and naked, the staff are suspicious about his motives.
Dealing with this, as well as the patients on the ward, Mark’s troubles really begin once he is Sectioned under the Mental Health Act. When decisions about his future are handed to Consultant Psychiatrist, Dr Giles Sharman, Mark’s life is about to go from bad to worse.
Drugged, abused and in danger, Mark looks for a way out of this nightmare. But he’s about to learn, proving that you are sane might not be easy as it seems…