Musings of a Mad Man
Musings of a Mad Man
Let the world think me mad or eccentric – such things are of no account to me. What the doctors may call my lunacy is in fact, only my loyalty to an obsession – one dating back fifteen years and to my first meeting with a maniac.
From my first encounter with the awesome personage of Leonard Arnold, slowly, silently, insidiously there grew in my mind and heart the obsession whence sprang the main purpose of my life. Arnold’s terrifying but shadowy figure
From time immemorial men have dreamed of a world free from all wars, and politics, and the uniting of all countries into one absolute nation. I believe that Leonard Arnold nearly succeeded in his quest before being trapped and forced to his tragic death.
Let me say that I know with unalterable conviction, that this very same task was what I was predestined for from the very beginning and which for reasons that belong to the realm of darkness has become a compulsion.
The obsession already lay deep within me long before the shattering revelation of Arnold’s diary. What I had simply apprehended, Arnold indicated clearly. The path he opened I intend to thread to the very end.
Deranged I may be, but who can deny the persistent and methodical way I have searched amid the shadows and the dust of forgotten newspapers, magazines, books, and letters until I was able to put together Arnold’s whole story?
People have mocked me for the way I haunted the great libraries and for the way in which I spent the past few years traveling to strange places, for the way I have ignored or spurned every material necessity. I have been reproached for neglecting my appearance, family, and friends, and for keeping company with men even more eccentric than myself who share my beliefs and applauded my zeal.
All this has been nothing to me. I have sneered at the miserable complacency of the doctor and his associates, realizing that their discoveries were only a beginning and that their task was only half accomplished.
Everything I have found substantiates the theories that have been taken for the outpourings of a scholarly lunatic and only confirms the substance of the account that Arnold vainly attempted to bring to the attention of an incredulous world, which was the weapon of his destruction.
Of what he was unaware and which is so vital to the unraveling of the whole puzzle I have found through my own labors.
I have been led on by my intuition and by the conviction that every sacrifice, every hardship and humiliation was worthwhile could I but amass the means to awaken this incredulous world to the secret that I have stumbled upon.
The summons came to me from beyond the seas and out of the darkness and I have answered and kept faith with what I consider now to be the threshold of ultimate triumph.
When I have proven my theories to this amazingly ignorant world that Arnold’s and my quest was not impossible to accomplish, and when they shall have accepted what is indeed the truth, then I shall have conquered the impossible and my words shall become law.
Let me take you back fifteen years, to when I first met Leonard Arnold. It was at the State Fair, he was dressed in a tight fitting shirt and pants, both of which were the color of night.
Leonard Arnold ogled the cars on the Ferris Wheel. Star pricked with lights, the contraption turned fitfully, dipping people out of the dusk and ladling them high into the air. A loud speaker braying vied with the mechanical clatter of the merry-go-round and the splat of fire crackers. The cars jerked spasmodically, moved, stopped, moved, at times leaving people on the top most position of the wheel as it disgorged their loads and took on new ones.
As the wheel began its revolutions, Arnold walked away with hands in his pockets. ‘Try yer luck?’ the man at the softball throw called, ‘A quarter is all it takes to win a prize!’
As he walked along the midway lined with booths he could hear other shouts as each barker tried to get the crowd to spend their money.
Fascinated with this man, the reasons of which are still unknown, I followed hoping for a chance to meet him. A strange unknown compulsion made me follow this awesome person throughout the entire fair. This compulsion finally led me to the ‘haunted castle’ ride and a seat in the same car with Leonard Arnold.
Unlike nearly all kids my age I began the conversation with the question, ‘What do you think of the government?’ which was one of the many major topics of that unruly era in the long, tiring history of the United States of America. To my surprise Leonard Arnold began upon a rather lengthy discussion on how the many governments of the world are run and how it should be run.
This lasted late into the night. I only saw Leonard Arnold once more before he met with his tragic death.
It was about two weeks later when I saw him. Again we spoke of governments and national and world crisis. On that night it was agreed that on the following evening I would meet him at the public library where he would give me a book containing the innermost thoughts and plans of this terrifying figure whose association deeply implanted the main purpose of my life.
Early the next morning I learned of his tragic and untimely death. Days went by before I could fully comprehend the meaning of his death. My parents were both shocked and dismayed when they learned of my association with a maniac.
As for the diary, when I returned to his apartment to search for it, I found the tiny room in a shambles. It had been ransacked. Everything that might have been of value to me was gone, including the diary.
Slowly, insidiously a plan crept into my mind. A plan that would take years of careful planning, searching, and hard work. I began my life’s work by borrowing books on government and studying them until I fully understood how nations are run and the powers that each branch of the government has and doesn’t have. I studied people such as Napoleon, Lenin, Stalin, Marx, Hitler, Jefferson, and Franklin D. Roosevelt. And I learned from their mistakes.
I became very studious and went from an average student to an A student. My nights and weekends were often spent at the various branches of the library in the city. I read everything about assassination attempts on Presidents. I even tried a few myself, always making certain others were around to take the fall. I considered my failures to be practice for the real event.
This is the day the world ends.
Copyright© FM Burgett 2019 All rights reserved.
The right of FM Burgett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 First published by FM Burgett
Burgett, FM (2019-04-07). Musings of a Mad Man. E-book Edition.
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Musings of a Mad Man is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All locations except known towns, cities, and those listed at the back of this book are fictitious.
Any errors are entirely made by the author.
The story was good although but some typo errors was there.