20 Years in a Sane Asylum

[Rosajoy1]

When one is given eternity to do nothing but stare at cold white walls and think, she can’t help but feel overwhelmed by the thoughts that are trapped inside her head, begging to be set free. Emeline’s voice has been getting louder and louder, demanding that I let her speak. So I have decided to share our story with anyone who will listen.

I had done nothing wrong. I was not crazy. I was 9 years old, and the year was 1855. I was a normal child. I wasn’t insane. My only fault was being born to a poor family. While mother worked in an assembly line at the textile factory, Father claimed to be searching for work. He lost his job while at war, so this was a believable lie. But a believable lie is all that it was. I know what he was really doing, but no one believed me. Every day, an hour after Mother left for work, Father would send me to my room to play with my new marbles that he found in Germany. He thought he could hide me from her, but I could hear her laughter from their bedroom. When I confronted Father, and told him that I would tell Mother if he didn’t stop, he said I was hearing things. He said I was hearing voices and that I would be committed to the New Jersey State Insane Asylum as soon as he could sign the papers. I was not insane!

 

I thought he wouldn’t be able to keep me in there. Surely the doctors would see that I am in fact sane, and would return me to my home; maybe even a better home. So when he turned in the cold white papers with “lunacy” written in blood red ink, I thought nothing of it. I was and still am obviously not insane. I did nothing wrong. They wouldn’t be able to keep me. It’s immoral and inhumane to keep a sane person in an insane asylum, so surely they’d see there was a mistake. I was wrong. They grabbed me with their cold, white, talon-like hands and dragged me into a cold, white hell. They left me there for eternity, alone. I couldn’t help but think about the psychopathic murderers that might reside behind those walls.

Sitting in silence for so long must have made my hearing advance, because I began to hear what was really happening. I heard scratching on the walls; those cold white walls, and screams from the maniac in the next room. Although I know this to be false, it sounded like she was in my cell, with me. She sounded like she was a ruthless killer in her mid-twenties. I could tell by the screams that she had spilt blood, and that she would no doubt spill more if the opportunity presented itself. While I was pondering this, the door to my cell opened, and I saw something I hadn’t seen since God knows when. A human being. Not just the occasional hand and arm that slipped a poor excuse for food into my cell; a whole person. A little person. She was an emaciated, quiet girl with curly blonde hair. The nurse who let her in was clothed in white. She turned to address me in her stern, cold voice.

“Elenor, this is your new cell mate.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look at the nurse. I just stared at the little girl. She stared back with big blue eyes, and held the skirt of her lacy pink dress. I’d never before seen such a perfect picture of innocence. We stood like that for what seemed like the longest time, just looking at each other. By now I was 27, and looking at her made it feel as if I had traveled back in time. She reminded me of me. Suddenly the door closed, and we were both startled out of our dream-like state. I decided to try to find out what her mental problem was.

“What’s your name?” I asked as softly and calmly as I possibly could.

“Emeline. I like pink.”

“Well, why---

“I like to rhyme all the time. Momma got annoyed with me, so she sent me here.”

“So you did nothing wrong?”

“I didn’t do nuth’n. Look at my purdy pink button.”

She pulled a small pink button out of her dress pocket. She smiled with pride over her treasure, and I smiled too.

 

We grew to be great friends for the next few years. After Emeline arrived, I noticed that the scratching and the screaming in the next room ceased to exist. I suppose the maniac died, or lost her will to disturb me and the others inside this hell. But it didn’t seem like much of a hell anymore. Emeline and I talked about our past lives, and our future once we got out. She could never think of what her future would be like, but I could. I would go back to my family and prove that I am not insane. I would take Emeline with me, so she could prove the same thing to her “folks” as she called them. She didn’t get to escape in the way we had hoped.

 

Emeline got sick. She got very sick, and there was nothing I could do for her other than offer her some of my food to eat with her own. I watched her slowly deteriorate, and I started to hear the screaming and scratching from the other room again. Another maniac must have moved in. Emeline never heard the wretched sounds. Her hearing must have gotten much weaker when the illness set in. She got to the point where she could barely move and she couldn’t speak. I fed her day after day, and braided her pretty blonde hair. She always loved it when I played with her hair. I held on to the hope that the nurse would one day bring medicine with the food, and that I’d get to hear Emeline’s voice again. But the wicked, wretched witch never tried to help her. Emeline died in my arms. I had nowhere to put her, so I laid her cold, white body in the corner.

 

I was too grief-stricken to cry, so I sat in sorrow and anger. I heard a knock at the door and knew it was time for my daily bowl of slop, and then I heard her. I heard Emeline. She told me to get the nurse inside, and to ask her why she would let a little girl suffer. The door opened, and as I saw the nurse’s white sleeve, I was filled with rage. I grabbed her cold, white hand and dragged her into the cell. Seeing her white uniform made me remember all that I’d gone through. The images of the white legal papers, the white, talon-like hands of the people who locked me in there, and the white walls of my hell hole flashed through my mind. Talking to the nurse wouldn’t be enough. I needed to escape, and take the ghost of Emeline with me. I grabbed the nurse and threw her down. I pinned her down and strangled her until she turned white and I felt her go limp. I left her on the cold, white floor, and ran. I ran as fast as I could. As I ran down the seemingly endless hallway, I realized something strange. There was no room next to mine.

 

Now I am free. I am free of the hell hole known as the New Jersey State Insane Asylum. I am out in the public, where a sane person like myself belongs, and the maniacal beasts are where they deserve to be. All is right with the world.

 

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Please leave critiques and positive comments about my story! I'd love to know how I can make it better and any ideas for a continuation that may be coming in the near future So what do you think happened? Was Elenor insane? What about Emeline? Did everything Eleanor said happened actually happen or was it in her head? Let me know what you think! <3

[Rosajoy1]

This is a poll for my short story, which should be below this in the "Original Works" thread. Thanks for your input!

Edited April 16, 2016 by Rosajoy1

[Rosajoy1]

Ive been living vicariously through two minute conversations

Desperately grasping at any chance to be with you

 

As if I'm drowning in your ocean and your attention is a rare breath of fresh air

 

I could just lie on my back and float, lifting up a white flag and ending the battle

 

But I'd rather sink deeper and deeper in you, my darling, in hopes that one day, you'll feel my presence

 

When I finally hit the bottom of your ocean, perhaps your strong waves will bring me home

 

And I'll be the sand to your sea

Intertwined in an eternal rhythm of peace

[Rosajoy1]

Anxiety is creeping in as I wish away my wish for you.

The dichotomy of thirsting for more yet desiring to stay stagnant

Is eating away at my heart like a vulture that's been circling it's prey for a lifetime

And finally the moment has come when the great bird has plunged into my very soul.

So I lie here, feeling the essence of me being unraveled like an infinite string

As painful as a blade in my back by the hands of a long cherished love.

Because thats exactly what it is.

But your innocence and naivety are what prohibit you from seeing the pain you cause as I earnestly grasp for your affection.

Although those are the things I love most about you.

When I see you next, the pain will dissipate, just like always.

Until the next moment without you, when it comes rushing back like water after its protective dam breaks.

And the cycle will continue until an inevitable end:

Either your love will fulfill me, or lack thereof will kill me.

[hazeh]

Your threads have all been merged into one topic, as only one medium topic (writing, visual art, etc) is allowed per user. This is stipulated in this section's rules here: https://forums.dragcave.net/index.php?showtopic=109245

 

If you have any questions about this or about the rules of the forum, please feel free to send me a message.

 

As a side note, you are a very good writer! Keep up the good work!

 

 

[Rosajoy1]

Thank you so much! Sorry for the trouble; I'm still trying to get used to things around here