AfricaThe double game, The turn and the vortex of angry conviction was a seasoning in careful tyranny for Africa Stagger. He burned with the course of a bidden beast, an indelicate prospering of anger and fiery rage, he was the king of the utmost spoil, a diabolical benediction in ash and ebony stone.
He screamed to the padded cell walls, “Kill them all, kill them all!” The straight Jacket had torn loose from his limber body and he thrashed flailing his arms at the walls. Africa screamed at the small square of glass that led to the green tiled walls of the outer hallway. “Help Meeeeeeeeeeeee, Help Meeeeeeeeeee!” he screamed in gasping rages of sound. As he screamed images of flame and ash filled his mind. Laughing between shouts he saw fields of burning wheat in vast vistas of rolling soot. “Heeeeelllppp meeeeeeeee!” he yelled at the nurse on the opposite side of the padded door.
The door leading to the outside ally was propped open at the end of the hall, trash day, he laughed and screamed, “Heeellllpppppp Meeeeeeeee!” He pictured the taboo of blood stained concrete floors, he saw the nurse in perfect miseries of death. “Heeeeeeelp meeeeee!” he bellowed forcefully. The tyranny of darkness shaded black as he thought. The lock turned and clicked several times and Africa waited seeing nothing but the tyranny of darkness.