An old man sits in a darkened room, confined to a wheelchair.
The time is now nighttime... and he has just begun his nightly routine.
He sits by the window, staring out into the courtyard... and remembers!
He daydreams about his sordid past,
The delicious horror,
Of the reasons he is now a permanent inmate in this asylum for the criminally insane.
His memories are a river of the stuff of nightmares!
THE RIVER OF MY MEMORIES (AN EXCERPT)
(Cabin John, Maryland)
...Out back of the house, behind the small stretch of forest, runs the river of my memories!
When I was a young kid, I skinned my first kitten on the bank... washing the blood away in the flowing water!
Later in life, I murdered my first dog in the same place along the bank... and I buried it deep in the damp soil!
Oh, the memories of the thrill of murder... and now at the age of 21, it is time to add my first human to the river of my memories!...