A Captive Mind An unedited and incomplete project, cast aside to the forgotten folders of the hard drive. The Daily Friz Derrick awoke to the sound of slowly cracking wood somewhere in the downstairs of his home. Moving about in his bed, in a manner as to not wake his wife Laura, Derrick reached for his thin framed glasses that were neatly placed next to him by his alarm clock. “Just a little after four in the morning.” He thought to himself glancing at the clocks red glow. His two small daughters Susan, 12 and Anna, 9 shared a room down the hall from Laura and his own bedroom. Derrick began to recline back in bed when he heard the noise again, instantly jolting him back to the cause of his original wakefulness. As he slid out of the bed, so smoothly as if he were a shadow slipping away from the sun rise, there came the soft spoken voice of hi...