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Talking to God Paperback – 15 May 2001
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A killing spree described with the same staccato intensity as the bark of a Browning automatic. -- Mayo News - 2001
McDonald is an explorer of courage and a writer of immense talent. -- The Irish Times - 2001
The complete objectivity of the writing has the effect of changing the moral basis for decisions regarding right and wrong. -- Leinster Express - 2001
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Francis Page was kept in a state of semi-consciousness in Pentonville Prison until arrangements could be made to move him to Broadmoor Secure Psychiatric Hospital in Berkshire. Charges already formalised and a trial pending for the murder of one and serious assault of two more prison screws. Medicated again with something. Ritanserin or amitriptyline or zotepine or olanzapine or phenothiazine or chlorpromazine or sertindole or ziprasidone?...
Pieces of lost time floated past in the black-hole singularity where there were no certainties. Only probabilities.
Can't stay in here. Promethazine. The future is out there. Outside the Universe. Haloperidol. In Amitabha. Something missing. Something gone! Forever. Risperidone. Words. Meaningless. Repetitive. Grainy and discontinuous. Can't see the whole picture. No windows in the wall. Black outside. Not white. No light. Can't see. No pictures. Everything distorted and compromised. Clozapine. Bizarre and sinister. Can't get back out! From the collective mythological unconscious. Can't. Fourth dimension of evil. Badness. Stelazine. Can't come back out! Abandoned. Betrayed. Denied. Benzhexol. Can't hide from the unbearableness of illusory reality. Not in here! Can't escape the urge to escape. Always there. All the time. Can't look at the stars to escape anymore. Heaven is closed to communication with God. Look! Don't look! Tell me what I know! Tell me what I don't know! I'm going down! I'm going down! Can't come back out! I can't! Never come back out! To fly with Jesus. Fly with Procla. Fly with Longinus. Fly with Charinus and Leucius. Fly. Fly. I can't! Can't! Can't! Down. Down.
Nobody came to Francis after that. Not for a very long time. How long he didn't know. Didn't know what year it was. Or what season of what year. Or what month or day of what season of what year. Except that ..........
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