Free Creative Writing On One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest: The Missing Chapter

I remember the first one real well. When he held it up I swear I could see myself, and man it looked bleak. Part of it was the colors, the somber, dark purple with the splash of yellowish green eyes in empty sockets that looked like a disease, but it was also the way the thing seemed to hum and vibrate, blending in with the other hospital sounds--the clink of locks, the whir of a fan, the hum of electric lights. And there was the sound of voices echoing through the halls.
I seen a rabbit, at first, in the center of the off-white paper: a dark-black rabbit with those yellow eyes locked on mine, all bile and anger. Those yellow orbs staring from the middle of the purple-black blotch. Then, that thing started changing, and instead of me, it was McMurphy’s face that swam in and out of focus. Randle McMurphy. His eyes swimming in that dark face, bulbous and yellow.
Don’t get him. Never did. I didn’t know why he couldn’t just sit back, act quiet, pass his time and maybe find a way to get out of here on good behavior. Why’d he have to get involved? Wouldn’t Billy Bibbit have been better off if McMurphy had just never gotten involved? Would I have been better off? He thinks he ain’t a rabbit and that’s his problem.
That wasn’t McMurphy’s way. He couldn’t just see something and let it be. He had to have his say, do what he could to turn a wrong to a right. Not everybody saw him that way. Nurse Ratched saw him as trouble, but I saw something else in him and hoped he would leave here some day. He’s a little rabbit challenging the big bad wolf and it ain’t gonna end well for him, no way.
So I look at that Rorschach thing again and this time I think it’s like a root deep down under the ground, a bulb maybe with something growing out of it, just a couple stalks, pushing up through, well, I can’t rightly see what they’re pushing up to, but I figure it’s through the darkness and to the light. It ain’t givin’ me hope, though, because there ain’t no hope in here, you see, just darkness. And that bulb pushing up through the dirt, you know, it can’t ever reach the sun, because there ain’t no sun for it to reach. That’s the story of my life, my past. His life, too.
It got me to thinking how it’s a lot like McMurphy. Most of who he is, his essence you might say, is hidden in the darkness, that grooved and wrinkled bulb, then those two stalks pushing up and into the light.
But he ain’t never gonna reach the light, because he’s locked in here, and then I’m seeing that dark purple rabbit again, eyes staring me down against the white of the paper. I start to thinking that that rabbit might even have fangs, and ain’t that something? A dark black-blue-purple rabbit with white fangs.
I ain’t no doctor but I got to thinking that there’s something that ain’t right about that rabbit, about its bile yellow eyes and fangs-- ain’t rabbits supposed to be scared? But instead I’m a little scared of the rabbit, now. I seen a lot of things outside but I ain’t seen no rabbit like that before. Course, I ain’t never gonna see a rabbit again, I don’t think. McMurphy ain’t going to either, but he don’t know that. We’re all rabbits here, afraid, hiding in the hidey-holes of our minds.
Then I think of that purple bulb under the ground and I see sunflowers rising up and opening their blossoms to the sky. But then I can’t see it anymore, the bulbs and the sunflowers and the light, and again it’s that rabbit, blinking angry-yellow eyes at me. I seen my past in those eyes, and that rabbit is telling me my future ain’t gonna be so different from my past.