The Psychotic Cyclops Part 4

I jumped down from the fence into a well kept backyard of a white fibro home. I saw the back door, a fly screen grilled door. I approached the door and knocked remembering the last door I knocked on was met with panic, through the fly screen grill I saw an old lady coming slowly I decided that my bloodies torn appearance was going to freak her out so before she spotted me through the grill I quickly ran around the side of the house and climbed underneath the crawlspace that was about 2 ft high. Dragging myself commando style through spider webs and the damp earth around the foundation pylons to the center of the house rolling over on my back as I tried to think of what to do next. The wooden floor boards above me were no insulation to the room above, the radio was on and I could hear it clearly when suddenly

"we interrupt this radio broadcast for a special news flash, a 7ft Cyclops has escaped from Minda detention center and is on the run in the surrounding suburbs, the Cyclops is very dangerous and if sighted please call the Police immediately"
I lay there thinking they were talking about me ? Yes I was the Cyclops they were hunting. I certainly felt as powerful, mysterious and misunderstood as a Cyclops would be, was this a code ? Or was I in fact a Cyclops or perceived as one ? I knew it would be easier to justify a shoot first attitude with such a beast on the run. I was a Cyclops and with such an appearance I could hardly commence traversing the neighborhood looking that way. I felt the game was coming to an end and decided to die where I lay. I began digging my own grave, scraping into the damped ground with my hands. I was digging maybe 20mins and over heard the same radio broadcast several, when it occurred to me they probably were aware that I would hear the broadcast and upon convincing myself I was Cyclops I would remain where I was and avoid being in Public or especially talking to the media. I stopped digging and decide to make another run, I crawled out sprung to my feet and ran down the side of the house to the road, down that road to a major cross street that paralleled the railway line ! Fuck I had gone in one big circle, I could see the perimeter fence of Minda on the other side of the train tracks, but about 500 meters from where I had crossed onto the expressway. I ran towards a house that was settled on a hill next to the train line. Under this house was a carport and storage area, I found position up behind some boxes where I hid waiting. Blood was steadily trickling out of several wounds the worst being my right toe, which was almost severed in half. Still not sure of what to do next I waited, I began to move some boxes around to better conceal my presence. About then an elderly man was moving towards me, I remained still but I was directly in front of him with my head exposed between the boxes, he looked straight into my eyes smiling he said "hello young fella, you look like you been at war with something or someone" No shit I thought ! I felt no fear or intimidation by his approach, he seemed neutral to my situation and this almost created an instant connection to reality again. I felt tired and hungry and my right toe started to throb with pain. I was still scared but felt I had a comrade in this old man. He asked "do you want to come upstairs get cleaned up and have something to eat ?" I said "No but I would really like a sandwich or just some bread" He left and returned moments later with his wife and some sandwiches, she bought them too me with such a calm and non judgmental presence that I began to almost land firmly back into the world from which my mind had fled. I finished eating and went upstairs with them, where I made a phone call to my mother. I told her I had escaped from Minali and that I was being chased by the Police. I handed the phone to the lady and she gave directions to her address. I found putting some basic nutrients into my system had slowed my mind down somewhat, I mean I was still quite agitated and fearful but a tranquility about the situation I was in had overcome me and my mother was on her way to pick me up.
When I saw my mother and her boyfriend arrive in his candy red Mercury Cougar convertible, I felt relieved in a reversal of fears and alliances. It was as if the man whom was trying to kill me the night before was now on the same side as me against my newly established enemy being the State Govt, the Police and all authority trying to silence me. I remembered his face was in a contorted and confused, How I must have looked in my condition all dirt covered with blood weeping wounds on my arms and feet. "fucking hell, better put something on the back seat I am not gonna have him bleeding all over my car for christ sakes, just cost me 800 bucks to get them re upholsterd" John took alot of pride in his car, it was alway spotless. The drive home was fast, the big V8 was just like the wild cat of it's name sake and despite my fear & hatred of John, till this day I never felt safer in a car thanthe times I had been a passenger with him, it was like the pride he had in his Cougar was a protection of aura over the car as we hurtled along the Princes Hwy at 110km p/hr. the top was down, the wind was in my face. Jerry Lee Lewis sang Great Balls of Fire on his stereo. Yeh I was having a little break from my insanity as I rode safely in the back of the magestic V8 cat.

The Psychotic Cyclops Part 3

The interviewing officer returned to the room and informed me they had only found a "roach" and not the Ounce under the mattress. I chose at that moment to always believe that most cops were really stupid and far more interested in their authority and power than Truth or Justice. I argued the ridiculous nature of such a bust but we agreed I could actually be charged with 0.4 of a gram of Cannabis and detained over night under the neglected child at risk law of the then Labor Govt.
I think my mother was somewhat awkward about the legitimacy of such a claim but she was also well aware of my deep rooted fear of her boyfriend and agreed. As a minor I could not be cell bound at Hurstville Station so I was transferred to a place called Minali for neglected children. I arrived there via a Patrol car from Hurstville. Minali was situated in the Minda Youth Detention complex in Western Sydney, it must have been late when I arrived as there was no one around other than the Superintendent of Minali, he was young guy about 30 with a strong build, and he was friendly with a smile. But this set me off a little into a mode distrust mode. He took me to a neatly kept room and suggested I change into Pajamas so my clothes could be washed for my hearing at Juvenile Court in the morning. I lay loud awake on the bed accelerating thoughts and anxieties into self perpetuating paranoia. I knew there was something wrong with this place, the Super was too nice as if he got his needs regularly met in some dark room with a youthful body to satisfy his lust. All this compounding speculation were only thoughts but the real truth of what happens in these places was all too easy to keep hush after all it was the System of Juvenile Justice of which the "just us" mentality was the code. Watching the shadows of the trees dance across the wall through the light of a barred window until the early morning minor birds broke the silence with their tweeting and the rising light of the sun bought me a calm of recognition that I had survived the night predator that I identified as the Super. A knock on the door a warm face of a middle aged woman delivered my washed and folded clothes from the night before. She invited me to the common room for Breakfast. I dressed myself then headed toward to room where I could hear many voices, young cheeky and mischievous were their tones. I sat down at the table and scoped the faces, then the perimeter of the room. Something was said about me having no shoes and the woman went to find me some to wear. I saw the Superintendent smiling and joking with the other young people in the room whom ranged from 9 to 18 yrs. As looked at their faces I could clearly see the emotional scars of sexual abuse, the conversations in my head twisted and turned with the conversation between the Super and the other kids. I panicked intensely, stood up and started pacing the room. I was in Minda (I was not) the detention center, re-scoping the room I saw there were only two windows that were not barred or embedded with wire gauze. The thoughts and mixed conversation in my head painted a picture of me being gang raped by the Super and some of the older boys, their laughing fuelled my adrenalin and without a second doubt, I ran toward the window diving through with my arms covering my face.... SMASH I rolled over leapt to my feet sprinting bare foot towards the boundary fence.
A standard chain link fence approx 6ft with three rows of barbed wire at the top, I could see another fence equal only parallel with maybe 4 feet between the two with a grass clearing on the other side. I jumped and dragged myself over the fence leaping to the top of the other one and onto the grass, I saw that I was bleeding from my hands and feet quite a lot but yet felt nothing. I kept running until I realized I had actually broke into Minda grounds and not out of Minda or even out of Minali, where I actually was. I just kept running to the other side of the clearing where an even higher fence with more barbed wire was, clawing my way up and over I leapt from the top into breadth of blackberry bushes witch quite severely cut up my feet and legs proper. On the other side was a steep clay embankment that went down to some railway tracks then a several lanes of motor way adjacent.
The energy and strength I felt was phenomenal, like a super being but the voices inside knew I was being hunted, yet again, but this time it was the system, the state, they could not have me on the loose knowing that I knew about the abuse that was happening in that place. I scampered down across the tracks running blindly in front of early morning traffic over another fence and into a golf course. There were several storm water channels with little golf cart bridges throughout the grounds, I jumped down into one running through the water as I knew the dogs they'd unleashed were hot on my trail and maybe the water would help lose the scent of my blood which was seeping out of several locations including my toe which looked almost like it was hanging off. I got to the other side of the Golf course and the edge of inner western suburbia. Rather than staying on the streets I thought it more strategic to corridor through people’s back yards from house to house to avoid capture. In the very first back yard I was approached by a very angry looking German Sheppard, chased me to the wooden paling fence I perched myself on as the opposite property was also inhabited by an angry mongrel. So with some agility in my torn clothes and bleeding feet I shimmied across the top stud enforcement of the paling fence keep my balance while holding the individual paling that protruded. I continued for at least two properties in this manner with the dogs and sirens growing increasingly louder as I thought just how high up this detention center abuse scandal went. It must have been a big issue for them to assign the whole Sydney Police Swat team with dogs and snipers to try and catch me.

The Psychotic Cyclops Part 2

Darkness had come and I left running up their driveway and into the street. I noticed John’s car had gone and knew he had gone looking for me. I took a left at the driveways street entrance and ran like a hunted rodent to the end of the culdesac where a large drop off of about 30 feet tiered down toward the river at about a 65 degree angle. Without a 2nd guess I leaped into the air and fell about 20 feet into the heart vines and long grass that cover the steep incline. Painless was my landing although bare foot, I was completely submerged in the heart vine. I sat there covered in foliage and dirt for 20 minutes, listening to my predator’s car gallivanting around nearby streets. When it seemed far enough away I decided to move. Clawing through the scrub toward a 3 story red brick house, I was concerned with the amount of noise I was making and felt John was closing in on me. I heard the wisp of several arrows move through the trees and recalled in fact he had a high powered crossbow in his criminal arsenal. I rubbed myself with dirt for camouflage and moved in stealth toward the backyard of the red brick house. There I saw a top story balcony, there was a light on and I sensed good people were up there that would help me. By this time my bladder was busting to do a piss, but I need not make a whisper of a noise, I unzipped so very slowly and held the head of my penis very close the wall of the building and urinated while listening intently to the distant movements of the one who hunted me like a wild animal. Around the back of this large house was a tree that went way up past the balcony where the light was coming from, I scaled the tree to the balcony with apparent ease, near the top the tree was thin and a good 7 feet from the hand rail. I could see a lady inside Ironing watching TV she was ethic in appearance and wearing only a nightgown. I knew she would help me. (Even though I was covered in dirt head to toe, bare foot, fly still down with a good volume of urinal splash back of my pants) I began to swing my weight back and forth till the tree had perched on the balcony railing, climbing over, the tree flung back in to place & I began banging on the sliding door, the horror on her face was not at all comforting to me as I begged her to open the door. She ran off, and then a man, her husband I guessed returned asking me what I wanted. He would not open the door, I told him someone was trying to kill me and please help me, he turned to his wife they seemed to be arguing in panic but in another language. So I just asked him to please call the police. I then laid face down on the balcony as I was certain in a matter of minutes I would be spotted then penetrated with a fast moving crossbow arrow.

It was maybe 15 minutes before the police arrived I jumped up to greet them but they would not open the door, they told me to lay face down again, so I did kissing the cold concrete, the door opened and they handcuffed me and stood me up, I had been saved by the man and woman blue!, at least I thought.... then the questions began. "What are you doing? What's your name? Do you often climb up peoples balconies with your pants unzipped ?" The female Constable then stepped back and began telling the lady and her husband they had been trying to catch a peeping tom active in the area for the last six months. Shit ! I was 16 yrs old, barefoot, scratched up, covered in dirt and piss with my fly down. I was a scared teenage boy in the grip of psychosis not a peeping tom. I began babbling out the scenario I found myself in, I was being hunted like an animal by my deranged stepfather with crossbow. The officers seemed to be ignorant of my rabid mental state and put me in the back of the paddy Wagon and took me to Hurstville Police station.

Fear arose to boiling point again as I sat in the back of the wagon recalled stories of friends being arrested, tossed into a paddy wagons handcuffed as they bounced around the violently driven van. Fortunately I was not treated the same, I guess they were aware that I was just a boy. At the station, I was taken to an empty interview room, a worn wooden table with an old typewriter & two chairs. My mother arrived at the Station and joined me in the interview room. I felt a little anxious but safe as I maneuvered the pieces in my head into a better survival position. The banter of the interview with a different older Police Officer was apparently about to result in me being returned home. NO FUCKING WAY was I going to let that happen, I may have been calm somewhat in their eyes but the psychotic delusions were just there simmering under the surface. An out I need an out, I began crying in fear of being returned home, panicked ! I thought they only need to arrest and charge me with something to at least keep me over night, safe in a cell. So I began to tell the officer I had a large amount of weed approx an ounce of buds stashed under my mattress. As if they (the Police) almost felt my fear but realized there had to be some justified reason to facilitate my protection, they sent a patrol car with instructions to search my room. Meanwhile I sat in the interview room with my mother while the minutes passed, I moved toward the typewriter, sat down and began to tap out myself saving spell.... -if you swallow this piece of paper everything will be ok- I ripped it off the typewriter roll and then ate it. I knew this bizarre random act was solidifying a commitment to my survival.

The Psychotic Cyclops Part 1

After being introduced to beer froth at the tender age of a toddler I was well on my way to the adventures of escapism by my early teens. In fact by the age of nine I was regularly taxing my uncles endless weed supply with wanton abandon. I remember so clearly, solo smoking a joint at the bus stop, on my way to Loftus primary school at 8am. Some of my peers at that time had experimented with alcohol of which I had participated yet they were unanimously concerned that I had progressed so quickly to the evils of weed, of which they knew nothing about. My uncle was ok, he was happy, had his own Newspaper he published & smoked that shit every day from what I could tell, but just maybe not at 8 a clock in the morning.

Now a whole bunch of events unfolded between the ages of 9 and 16 of which some may be drawn upon later as I indulge you in the sordid details of my life, but for now I'll just cut to chase & capture of that moment in time. I was 16 living with my dear mother and her try hard criminal boyfriend in a large waterfront house we rented overlooking the Georges river. I was quite the pot head at that age & had taken to scouting and harvesting other people’s crops whose gardens were almost always adjacent to the bush. It was just better that way, as you could scope the area well without being notice. Then lay in wait till an hour or two after lights went out, moving in with kitchen knife and pillow case for a quick slash and grab of the sticky bulbous buds. I knew enough about the stuff now that we (me and Ricky) would always hit a backyard crop a week or two before due harvest. These midnight missions were few but yielded enough weed to keep me stoned everyday all day for months on end. At that age smoking that much bud is not a good look, let alone looking at what was going on in my head. I was probably bordering Psychotic for a year before I really flipped out, and when I did it was not without some really demented delusions.

My mother's boyfriend had his own story, so I will paint a little to give you a better perception of where my delusions seeded. He was supposedly born into a concentration camp, a Polish Jew, whose first living memory was making pillows from hair taken from other gassed Jews, including his father. Upon arriving in Australia he was living at a place called Silver City where he witnessed the raped of his mother and at age 15 was taken in by the criminal underworld that ran Darlinghurst's alternative industries, of which I believe his trade was bashing the shit out of people and stealing cars for cut-n-shut re-sale. So he always had guns, drugs and would often entertain questionable people including reasonably high ranking police inspectors and the odd general scumbag, all of whom seemed to fear him. It may be how he explained in detail some of the acts he had committed on people. I was a pacifist, a hippy of sorts, I guess trying to re-establish a 60's mindset experience in a teenage body present in the mid 80's. Not hard to do when the weed supply was almost always endless. My perceptions of John (his actual name) were that of a Pit bull with no master he could be as genuine and friendly as any dog but if angered up, just watch those teeth seek blood not to mention the lock jaw.

One day when I had returned home to Dingerra Cres, Oatley he decided to indulge me in a macabre questioning. He'd been watching some horror flick and asked me with a twisted passion in his eyes... "How could someone stab a person then twist the blade around in all directions ?" He asked me "Have you ever wondered what it would feel like ?" I can't remember if I responded or what I responded but it triggered me beyond return. I knew he did not like me, that he thought I was a dole bludger (I was) and that I was a thorn between him and my mother (I was) there had been some tension in the house weeks prior. I returned to my room smoking yet even more weed I began to play his tapes in my head, thinking about how he always said all I needed was a good bash from him. My mind had left the realms of reason and I began to see he had a plan to kill me. The fear and adrenalin kicked in like the ignition on a Harley Davidson, I was off. I climbed out the window, onto the boundary fence then up onto the neighbor’s car port roof, panicked with fear for my life I knocked on their door, spoke briefly with them trying to find some sort of calm safe haven. I think the speed of my babbling about the threat of my stepfather was half a concern for them the other half would have been my toxic anxiety with a physical agitation that accompanies the upward spiral of a full blown Psychosis.

What I am about to reveal now is the reality of what I perceived without retracting back to a subjective 3rd party view of this experience, the fear is real, the anxiety and adrenalin is so intensely intoxicating it's like I became some super human, eagle eyed, bionic ears, extra sensory perceptions of a spiritual psychic.