The exercise:
Now that I've managed to reach October in my attempt to catch up on comments, we should probably revisit something, huh?
Looks like it's House of Mercy's turn for round two.
Showing posts with label House of Mercy Prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label House of Mercy Prompt. Show all posts
Monday December 5th, 2016
The exercise:
Today we bring our yearlong tale about the House of Mercy to a conclusion. It's been quite a ride, and I would like to thank Morganna again for getting us started on the journey.
What's in store for next year's prompt? I haven't figured that out yet.
But for now... let's focus on finishing this one off, shall we?
Edit: blargh, sleep. Sorry for the late posting once again
Mine:
Traditionally, there are four known ways to kill a vampire. Though they are well known, I shall list them for you anyway:
1. Sunlight.
2. Wooden stake through the heart.
3. Silver.
4. Beheading.
There you are. Nothing too complicated, yes? Have a vampire infestation, just pick something from the above list and problem solved. Right?
Well. Perhaps.
You see, there are some who believe this compilation of methods is not entirely... accurate. I count myself a member of this fraternity of doubters. I would suggest that you too, dear reader, have your suspicions.
Why else, then, would you be reading this copy of Real, True Facts About Vampires?
"Because I'm an idiot?" Julie muttered before turning to the next page. She was sitting on her bed, back in her apartment again. It was a cloudy, dark afternoon outside her window but she was paying little attention to the weather.
So, back to the list for the moment, for there our problems begin. Realistically, only the first two methods - sunlight and staking - will kill a vampire with any (apparent) certainty. The other two - silver and beheading - are even less trustworthy.
Silver acts more as a slowing, or weakening agent. One would need a lot of the stuff to finish a vampire off. Useful for keeping a monster in place - handcuffs made of silver come readily to mind - but something like, say, a silver bullet would merely serve to slow the beast's fearsome healing powers.
Speaking of those powers, you might be wondering if one could even recover from having its head removed from its body entirely. There is some evidence to suggest that is, indeed, the case.
"Of for crying out loud," Julie said with a shake of her head. "What is wrong with me? Six months later and I still can't let it go."
She continued reading anyway.
There is also some evidence that the best way to ensure a vampire is gone for good is to use a combination of all four methods. This is especially true when dealing with the most powerful members of this race, who are well known to have significant psychic abilities. It has been theorized that if they are damaged too severely, they will go into hiding until they have fully recovered. Where, precisely, they might go during this time is unknown.
The most troubling aspect of all of this, at least to myself, is that there is a strong possibility that the source of this widespread misinformation is the vampires themselves. They do not wish for us to know th-
Julie's head snapped up at the sound of the apartment door unlocking. She slammed the book shut and quickly shoved it under her pillow before picking up a pen and her journal from her bedside table. Flipping it open to a random blank page, she began to scribble mindlessly.
"Hello?" Anne called from the entrance way. "Julie? You home?"
"In here!"
"Still in your bedroom?" Anne said, leaning one hip against her door frame. "You need to get out more, girl. You've done enough therapy writing in that thing. It's safe beyond these walls now, trust me."
"Uh huh," Julie said, shrugging her shoulders and shifting her weight around on the bed. "I guess I'm just having trouble believing that Cecilie is really gone."
"She is. I killed her with my own two hands, remember?" Julie looked up, wanting to believe her friend's words. She searched Anne's eyes for some shred of proof that she wasn't lying but couldn't find it. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," Julie said, frowning. "Why do you always ask? You know you're welcome."
Today we bring our yearlong tale about the House of Mercy to a conclusion. It's been quite a ride, and I would like to thank Morganna again for getting us started on the journey.
What's in store for next year's prompt? I haven't figured that out yet.
But for now... let's focus on finishing this one off, shall we?
Edit: blargh, sleep. Sorry for the late posting once again
Mine:
Traditionally, there are four known ways to kill a vampire. Though they are well known, I shall list them for you anyway:
1. Sunlight.
2. Wooden stake through the heart.
3. Silver.
4. Beheading.
There you are. Nothing too complicated, yes? Have a vampire infestation, just pick something from the above list and problem solved. Right?
Well. Perhaps.
You see, there are some who believe this compilation of methods is not entirely... accurate. I count myself a member of this fraternity of doubters. I would suggest that you too, dear reader, have your suspicions.
Why else, then, would you be reading this copy of Real, True Facts About Vampires?
"Because I'm an idiot?" Julie muttered before turning to the next page. She was sitting on her bed, back in her apartment again. It was a cloudy, dark afternoon outside her window but she was paying little attention to the weather.
So, back to the list for the moment, for there our problems begin. Realistically, only the first two methods - sunlight and staking - will kill a vampire with any (apparent) certainty. The other two - silver and beheading - are even less trustworthy.
Silver acts more as a slowing, or weakening agent. One would need a lot of the stuff to finish a vampire off. Useful for keeping a monster in place - handcuffs made of silver come readily to mind - but something like, say, a silver bullet would merely serve to slow the beast's fearsome healing powers.
Speaking of those powers, you might be wondering if one could even recover from having its head removed from its body entirely. There is some evidence to suggest that is, indeed, the case.
"Of for crying out loud," Julie said with a shake of her head. "What is wrong with me? Six months later and I still can't let it go."
She continued reading anyway.
There is also some evidence that the best way to ensure a vampire is gone for good is to use a combination of all four methods. This is especially true when dealing with the most powerful members of this race, who are well known to have significant psychic abilities. It has been theorized that if they are damaged too severely, they will go into hiding until they have fully recovered. Where, precisely, they might go during this time is unknown.
The most troubling aspect of all of this, at least to myself, is that there is a strong possibility that the source of this widespread misinformation is the vampires themselves. They do not wish for us to know th-
Julie's head snapped up at the sound of the apartment door unlocking. She slammed the book shut and quickly shoved it under her pillow before picking up a pen and her journal from her bedside table. Flipping it open to a random blank page, she began to scribble mindlessly.
"Hello?" Anne called from the entrance way. "Julie? You home?"
"In here!"
"Still in your bedroom?" Anne said, leaning one hip against her door frame. "You need to get out more, girl. You've done enough therapy writing in that thing. It's safe beyond these walls now, trust me."
"Uh huh," Julie said, shrugging her shoulders and shifting her weight around on the bed. "I guess I'm just having trouble believing that Cecilie is really gone."
"She is. I killed her with my own two hands, remember?" Julie looked up, wanting to believe her friend's words. She searched Anne's eyes for some shred of proof that she wasn't lying but couldn't find it. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," Julie said, frowning. "Why do you always ask? You know you're welcome."
Wednesday November 9th, 2016
The exercise:
Our second to last visit to the House of Mercy has arrived. Let us see how things set up for the finale next month.
Worked my last Wednesday shift for a while at the bakery this morning. They'll be closed next week for a little break, and then when they reopen I'll be doing Saturdays (more or less).
It was slow, but I didn't mind too much. I got hit with my first migraine in a long time last night and I was still feeling the aftereffects this morning. Still am right now, actually. But hopefully some sleep will take care of that.
Not sure what else there is to say about the US election results. Other than, perhaps: buckle up.
It's going to be a bumpy ride.
Mine:
"We need to get out of here," Julie said. "I want to go home."
"We can't," Anne said with a slow shake of her head. "Not yet."
"What?" Julie wiped the last of the fire extinguisher foam from her eyes and stood up. "What do you mean, not yet? Are we waiting for an invitation? Maybe a pretty little card, with a nice apology handwritten inside? Or a-"
"Cecilie." The name stopped Julie in her tracks. "We can't just leave her... or it... or whatever... here. We have to kill... let's go with it, okay?"
"Why us? Why can't we let somebody else have that honor?" Julie was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the past months settle on her shoulders. She wanted to sit down. Have a nap. Maybe get a foot rub or...
"Julie!" Anne shouted, snapping her fingers in front of her face. "Come on, stay with me. Don't let Cecilie take you away again."
"She's not taking me anywhere," Julie muttered, but even she could hear how uncertain she sounded. "So what are you saying? That we have to do it if we want to make sure we're rid of her... it forever?"
"That... and who else would do it?" Anne mimed picking up a phone. "Hello, police? Yes, please send a unit over to the House of Mercy. There's a vampire locked in the basement that needs to be properly disposed of."
"Okay... but how?"
"You've read vampire books, right? Seen a movie or two?" Anne flipped over a wooden stool by Bradley's desk and smashed its legs off. She gathered them up and handed Julie a pair. "Here, have some wooden stakes."
"This," Julie whispered as she stared at the weapons she held in each hand, "is insane."
"Careful now," Anne said as she headed for the hallway. "Talk like that might just get you committed in a place like this."
Our second to last visit to the House of Mercy has arrived. Let us see how things set up for the finale next month.
Worked my last Wednesday shift for a while at the bakery this morning. They'll be closed next week for a little break, and then when they reopen I'll be doing Saturdays (more or less).
It was slow, but I didn't mind too much. I got hit with my first migraine in a long time last night and I was still feeling the aftereffects this morning. Still am right now, actually. But hopefully some sleep will take care of that.
Not sure what else there is to say about the US election results. Other than, perhaps: buckle up.
It's going to be a bumpy ride.
Mine:
"We need to get out of here," Julie said. "I want to go home."
"We can't," Anne said with a slow shake of her head. "Not yet."
"What?" Julie wiped the last of the fire extinguisher foam from her eyes and stood up. "What do you mean, not yet? Are we waiting for an invitation? Maybe a pretty little card, with a nice apology handwritten inside? Or a-"
"Cecilie." The name stopped Julie in her tracks. "We can't just leave her... or it... or whatever... here. We have to kill... let's go with it, okay?"
"Why us? Why can't we let somebody else have that honor?" Julie was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the past months settle on her shoulders. She wanted to sit down. Have a nap. Maybe get a foot rub or...
"Julie!" Anne shouted, snapping her fingers in front of her face. "Come on, stay with me. Don't let Cecilie take you away again."
"She's not taking me anywhere," Julie muttered, but even she could hear how uncertain she sounded. "So what are you saying? That we have to do it if we want to make sure we're rid of her... it forever?"
"That... and who else would do it?" Anne mimed picking up a phone. "Hello, police? Yes, please send a unit over to the House of Mercy. There's a vampire locked in the basement that needs to be properly disposed of."
"Okay... but how?"
"You've read vampire books, right? Seen a movie or two?" Anne flipped over a wooden stool by Bradley's desk and smashed its legs off. She gathered them up and handed Julie a pair. "Here, have some wooden stakes."
"This," Julie whispered as she stared at the weapons she held in each hand, "is insane."
"Careful now," Anne said as she headed for the hallway. "Talk like that might just get you committed in a place like this."
Sunday October 9th, 2016
The exercise:
As promised, today we return to the House of Mercy yearlong prompt.
Had a pretty busy day, considering how little we had planned. Kat cooked up a chili for dinner, along with pumpkin pudding. I picked apples to get them in the cooler before they went bad on the trees so that we can make some more apple sauce for Miles once he starts eating solids. Max also managed to convince me to pick some ornamental pumpkins with him so that he could decorate the deck for Halloween.
Dinner was tasty, though it was weird to be up there without Kat's parents around. Max and Natalie had lots of loud fun, as expected.
Good day, overall. But I'm very sleepy right now so let's get to it, shall we? Only two visits remain after this one...
Mine:
Julie blinked, ever so slowly. It felt like the first movement she had controlled since she had been thrown to the floor by... whatever. Or whoever.
The buzzing in her ears had subsided and the hypnotic voice was fainter now, as though a barrier had been placed between her and their source. She still couldn't seem to make herself stand up though. Blinking felt like a step in the right direction but she needed to be running full tilt for the door.
"You're still mine," the voice hissed. "Don't think otherwise, girl."
"Whatever," Julie mumbled. Encouraged by a second act of defiance, she tried to push herself up off the floor with her elbows. Her fingers twitched in response. "Damn it."
"Julie!" Anne's voice, echoing and distant as it was, still spurred her onward and upward. "Julie!"
"Kill her!" the voice commanded.
"Not likely," Julie countered as she finally reached a sitting position. Beside her, Bradley moaned and shifted but did not wake up. "Quiet, you."
"Julie!" Anne's voice was much closer now. Julie could hear her footsteps growing louder as she approached. And then, at last, she was there in the hallway. "Julie! Are you okay?"
"Couldn't be better," Julie said, sucking in deep breaths before attempting any more movements. "Can you come in?"
"There's still something blocking the doorway.... but it seems weaker now."
"Okay." Julie bit back a scream as she forced herself to her feet.
Bradley woke up.
The voice in her head came once again. This time it was yelling.
"KILL HER!"
As promised, today we return to the House of Mercy yearlong prompt.
Had a pretty busy day, considering how little we had planned. Kat cooked up a chili for dinner, along with pumpkin pudding. I picked apples to get them in the cooler before they went bad on the trees so that we can make some more apple sauce for Miles once he starts eating solids. Max also managed to convince me to pick some ornamental pumpkins with him so that he could decorate the deck for Halloween.
Dinner was tasty, though it was weird to be up there without Kat's parents around. Max and Natalie had lots of loud fun, as expected.
Good day, overall. But I'm very sleepy right now so let's get to it, shall we? Only two visits remain after this one...
Mine:
Julie blinked, ever so slowly. It felt like the first movement she had controlled since she had been thrown to the floor by... whatever. Or whoever.
The buzzing in her ears had subsided and the hypnotic voice was fainter now, as though a barrier had been placed between her and their source. She still couldn't seem to make herself stand up though. Blinking felt like a step in the right direction but she needed to be running full tilt for the door.
"You're still mine," the voice hissed. "Don't think otherwise, girl."
"Whatever," Julie mumbled. Encouraged by a second act of defiance, she tried to push herself up off the floor with her elbows. Her fingers twitched in response. "Damn it."
"Julie!" Anne's voice, echoing and distant as it was, still spurred her onward and upward. "Julie!"
"Kill her!" the voice commanded.
"Not likely," Julie countered as she finally reached a sitting position. Beside her, Bradley moaned and shifted but did not wake up. "Quiet, you."
"Julie!" Anne's voice was much closer now. Julie could hear her footsteps growing louder as she approached. And then, at last, she was there in the hallway. "Julie! Are you okay?"
"Couldn't be better," Julie said, sucking in deep breaths before attempting any more movements. "Can you come in?"
"There's still something blocking the doorway.... but it seems weaker now."
"Okay." Julie bit back a scream as she forced herself to her feet.
Bradley woke up.
The voice in her head came once again. This time it was yelling.
"KILL HER!"
Sunday September 4th, 2016
The exercise:
Having caught up on comments up to last month's installment this morning, I'm feeling inspired to return to the House of Mercy.
This morning Kat took Max and Miles to the park to meet up with some friends, so that's why I had the opportunity to work on the backlog here. After lunch I took Max to a different park so that he could ride his bike around (in a different location) and play on the slides for a bit.
After picking up a couple things in town, we came back via the garden to get beets, carrots, and cucumbers for dinner. We haven't done roasted beets and carrots in a while but the cooler weather inspired us.
Tomorrow we're heading to Kettle River for some time in nature and a picnic lunch with Kat's brother and his family. Might meet some other friends there as well but they haven't confirmed yet. Either way, should be a good time.
Mine:
"Are you girls new here?" Bradley asked as he took another drink from the bottle. He was a tall, muscular man and it was taking a while for the tainted booze to do its work. There were only a few sips remaining by then. "I don't 'member seeing you 'round afore."
"Just started today, honey," Anne replied with a smile from her perch on his otherwise pristine desk. She was still bothered that she recognized his name but couldn't put it in any sort of context. She just kept hoping it wouldn't come back to haunt her. "But I can tell already that you're somebody important around here."
"Oh, you know it, girl. You know it." Bradley tapped the right side of his chest, looked down to find his name tag on the left, then tapped there instead. "Head honcho of security. Promotioned two weeks ago."
"Very impressive," Julie said, her smile not coming as easily as Anne's had. She was nervous. Terrified, really. She just wanted to bash Bradley over the head with the whiskey bottle, shut off the cameras, and make a run for it. "You must know all the ins and outs of this place then, hmm? All the secret passages?"
She tried to tack a giggle on to the end of her question but she knew without looking at Anne that she was not a good enough actress to attempt that sort of thing.
"Hah!" Bradley actually slapped his knee and tilted his head back to laugh at the ceiling. The oblivion of unconsciousness could not be far away now. At least Julie hoped so. "This ain't no movie, cutie pie. There's only uno way in and out of here." He leaned forward to tap a monitor and had to steady himself on the edge of his desk to avoid falling off his chair. "Dis door right hurr."
"That's what we figured," Anne muttered as she watched the video feed from reception. Then, brightening her tone before Bradley noticed, she quickly added, "So you can see everywhere in the building from here? Even... right in this room?"
"Nah, no need for dat, honey girl. Ain't nothing bad gonna happen hurr. Safest place in da world, right hurr wif me. Truss me on dat one."
"Bad? Of course not!" Anne said, returning the bottle to Bradley without taking a drink. "Naughty, though?"
Bradley leered at her for several seconds before finishing off the contents of the bottle and tossing it aside. Anne's heart caught in her throat as he stood up, his intentions unmistakable. But as he tried to take the first step toward her he fell forward, hitting his head on the edge of the desk right next to her.
"Oh my God!" Julie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Is he dead?"
"Who cares?" Anne asked as she began shutting off all the security cameras in the building. Twelve eternal seconds later she turned back to Julie with a wild smile on her lips and a touch of crazy in her eyes. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here!"
Having caught up on comments up to last month's installment this morning, I'm feeling inspired to return to the House of Mercy.
This morning Kat took Max and Miles to the park to meet up with some friends, so that's why I had the opportunity to work on the backlog here. After lunch I took Max to a different park so that he could ride his bike around (in a different location) and play on the slides for a bit.
After picking up a couple things in town, we came back via the garden to get beets, carrots, and cucumbers for dinner. We haven't done roasted beets and carrots in a while but the cooler weather inspired us.
Tomorrow we're heading to Kettle River for some time in nature and a picnic lunch with Kat's brother and his family. Might meet some other friends there as well but they haven't confirmed yet. Either way, should be a good time.
Mine:
"Are you girls new here?" Bradley asked as he took another drink from the bottle. He was a tall, muscular man and it was taking a while for the tainted booze to do its work. There were only a few sips remaining by then. "I don't 'member seeing you 'round afore."
"Just started today, honey," Anne replied with a smile from her perch on his otherwise pristine desk. She was still bothered that she recognized his name but couldn't put it in any sort of context. She just kept hoping it wouldn't come back to haunt her. "But I can tell already that you're somebody important around here."
"Oh, you know it, girl. You know it." Bradley tapped the right side of his chest, looked down to find his name tag on the left, then tapped there instead. "Head honcho of security. Promotioned two weeks ago."
"Very impressive," Julie said, her smile not coming as easily as Anne's had. She was nervous. Terrified, really. She just wanted to bash Bradley over the head with the whiskey bottle, shut off the cameras, and make a run for it. "You must know all the ins and outs of this place then, hmm? All the secret passages?"
She tried to tack a giggle on to the end of her question but she knew without looking at Anne that she was not a good enough actress to attempt that sort of thing.
"Hah!" Bradley actually slapped his knee and tilted his head back to laugh at the ceiling. The oblivion of unconsciousness could not be far away now. At least Julie hoped so. "This ain't no movie, cutie pie. There's only uno way in and out of here." He leaned forward to tap a monitor and had to steady himself on the edge of his desk to avoid falling off his chair. "Dis door right hurr."
"That's what we figured," Anne muttered as she watched the video feed from reception. Then, brightening her tone before Bradley noticed, she quickly added, "So you can see everywhere in the building from here? Even... right in this room?"
"Nah, no need for dat, honey girl. Ain't nothing bad gonna happen hurr. Safest place in da world, right hurr wif me. Truss me on dat one."
"Bad? Of course not!" Anne said, returning the bottle to Bradley without taking a drink. "Naughty, though?"
Bradley leered at her for several seconds before finishing off the contents of the bottle and tossing it aside. Anne's heart caught in her throat as he stood up, his intentions unmistakable. But as he tried to take the first step toward her he fell forward, hitting his head on the edge of the desk right next to her.
"Oh my God!" Julie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Is he dead?"
"Who cares?" Anne asked as she began shutting off all the security cameras in the building. Twelve eternal seconds later she turned back to Julie with a wild smile on her lips and a touch of crazy in her eyes. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here!"
Monday August 8th, 2016
The exercise:
As promised yesterday, we're having our monthly visit to the House of Mercy this evening.
Had a pretty quiet night shift at the community center. I've got another one scheduled for tomorrow, so I'm going to need to bring the produce down to our place for local orders before I go and then Kat and Miles will deal with our customers (Max will be with Kat's parents until dinner time).
Then two mornings at the bakery, back to farm work on Friday as I pick for the market, the market itself on Saturday, and then on Sunday... I guess I get a day off? That'll be nice.
Mine:
Sitting on her bed in the early dawn light, flipping through her chart, Julie's head was crowded with questions.
Was it real? Was it just another test, like the keys? Had the keys been a test at all? If it was real, were the notes she was reading a confirmation of her insanity... or theirs?
The sound of the chart sliding across the floor had woken her with a jolt. It had taken a few seconds to discover the source of the noise and much longer to consider whether or not she should get out of bed to pick it up.
The three quick knocks on her door and then the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps had shoved her into action.
And that, perhaps, was the biggest question of all: who had slipped it under her door to begin with?
Julie rubbed the ache in her head with her fingers, closing her eyes for a few breaths. Breakfast would be arriving in half an hour and she knew she couldn't be found reading her chart.
And it was her chart, wasn't it? Or at least it was a copy. The entries were grouped together in different colored pens, which was odd. Babs always used the same pen when she was with Julie. It was like someone had taken several attempts to get it all down, using whatever writing instrument was at hand each time. The handwriting certainly looked rushed.
It also looked vaguely familiar. Like Julie had seen it somewhere before. She couldn't seem to place it though. It was like trying to grab a wriggling fish with her bare hands.
At least, it was until she reached the final page... and the final note, hastily scrawled at the bottom. It was not an entry from Babs. Julie knew that even before her eyes reached the name.
Julie, I hope you've found these notes informative. And I hope your old pills have been "disagreeing" with you. But they're starting you on a new routine tomorrow and I don't know if I can keep 'adjusting' your medications - there are some liquids, and maybe even a few needles. We need to get out of here before they get more of their poison into you.
We need to leave tonight. Be ready.
Anne
As promised yesterday, we're having our monthly visit to the House of Mercy this evening.
Had a pretty quiet night shift at the community center. I've got another one scheduled for tomorrow, so I'm going to need to bring the produce down to our place for local orders before I go and then Kat and Miles will deal with our customers (Max will be with Kat's parents until dinner time).
Then two mornings at the bakery, back to farm work on Friday as I pick for the market, the market itself on Saturday, and then on Sunday... I guess I get a day off? That'll be nice.
Mine:
Sitting on her bed in the early dawn light, flipping through her chart, Julie's head was crowded with questions.
Was it real? Was it just another test, like the keys? Had the keys been a test at all? If it was real, were the notes she was reading a confirmation of her insanity... or theirs?
The sound of the chart sliding across the floor had woken her with a jolt. It had taken a few seconds to discover the source of the noise and much longer to consider whether or not she should get out of bed to pick it up.
The three quick knocks on her door and then the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps had shoved her into action.
And that, perhaps, was the biggest question of all: who had slipped it under her door to begin with?
Julie rubbed the ache in her head with her fingers, closing her eyes for a few breaths. Breakfast would be arriving in half an hour and she knew she couldn't be found reading her chart.
And it was her chart, wasn't it? Or at least it was a copy. The entries were grouped together in different colored pens, which was odd. Babs always used the same pen when she was with Julie. It was like someone had taken several attempts to get it all down, using whatever writing instrument was at hand each time. The handwriting certainly looked rushed.
It also looked vaguely familiar. Like Julie had seen it somewhere before. She couldn't seem to place it though. It was like trying to grab a wriggling fish with her bare hands.
At least, it was until she reached the final page... and the final note, hastily scrawled at the bottom. It was not an entry from Babs. Julie knew that even before her eyes reached the name.
Julie, I hope you've found these notes informative. And I hope your old pills have been "disagreeing" with you. But they're starting you on a new routine tomorrow and I don't know if I can keep 'adjusting' your medications - there are some liquids, and maybe even a few needles. We need to get out of here before they get more of their poison into you.
We need to leave tonight. Be ready.
Anne
Monday July 11th, 2016
The exercise:
Let us return to the House of Mercy.
Took some time this morning to weed out our carrot row in the garden. While I was out there I discovered the first ripe cherry tomatoes of the season - Max was suitably impressed when I brought home six of them.
This afternoon we took a family trip to the beach. The sun hid behind clouds for most of it but that didn't stop Max from wanting to be in the lake. I got the honor of going in with him and... I think I'm finally warmed up again now.
Mine:
Julie stood in the doorway between the bathroom and her room, still as a statue, and tried to think clearly. Doing so had definitely become easier in recent days, but the forgotten keys dangling from the lock on the door leading to the hallway had thrown her mind into chaos.
Apparently, she reminded herself again. Apparently forgotten.
Was this a test of some sort, she wondered, or an honest mistake? Babs had left in quite the hurry after Julie suggested that Babs looked like a chocolate sundae with two cherries on top.
Well, technically, she didn't leave until after she'd licked her lips and declared chocolate sundaes with cherries on top to be her very favorite childhood food.
Maybe Babs had been so flustered that she'd left the keys in the door. But how far could she get, really, before she realized her mistake? There were at least half a dozen other keys on the ring; were they just to other rooms, or to her office, or... to the outside?
Julie crossed the room slowly, shuffling her feet across the cool tile floor. How much time did she have? Had her hesitation already cost her the opportunity to escape? Would she ever get another one? Was it worth it, right now, to take the chance anyway?
So many questions. It was making her head hurt. She returned to her bed and sat down heavily, her toes brushing the floor as her legs swung side to side. She hadn't always had this much trouble making decisions. She could remember being very decisive before... Doug.
She grew still then. She hadn't thought of her ex-boyfriend since shortly after she'd arrived at House of Mercy. Had Anne told him she was here? Probably not. By the end she'd hated that smug bastard almost as much as Julie had. He would have just laughed if she had, maybe said something about how he knew all along that Julie was nuts.
"But I'm not nuts," Julie muttered as her eyes returned to the silver temptation of the keys. "I don't belong here. I need to leave. Now."
She stood up, unaware that her hands had balled into fists. But then, just as she was about to take her first step toward freedom, the door handle jiggled. Without a second thought Julie collapsed back onto the bed and commenced humming as she stared at the ceiling.
"Sorry to bother you again, dear," Babs told her as she entered the room and managed to make the keys disappear silently, as though they had never been there. "Cecilie has to come to visit us and would like very much to meet you."
Let us return to the House of Mercy.
Took some time this morning to weed out our carrot row in the garden. While I was out there I discovered the first ripe cherry tomatoes of the season - Max was suitably impressed when I brought home six of them.
This afternoon we took a family trip to the beach. The sun hid behind clouds for most of it but that didn't stop Max from wanting to be in the lake. I got the honor of going in with him and... I think I'm finally warmed up again now.
Mine:
Julie stood in the doorway between the bathroom and her room, still as a statue, and tried to think clearly. Doing so had definitely become easier in recent days, but the forgotten keys dangling from the lock on the door leading to the hallway had thrown her mind into chaos.
Apparently, she reminded herself again. Apparently forgotten.
Was this a test of some sort, she wondered, or an honest mistake? Babs had left in quite the hurry after Julie suggested that Babs looked like a chocolate sundae with two cherries on top.
Well, technically, she didn't leave until after she'd licked her lips and declared chocolate sundaes with cherries on top to be her very favorite childhood food.
Maybe Babs had been so flustered that she'd left the keys in the door. But how far could she get, really, before she realized her mistake? There were at least half a dozen other keys on the ring; were they just to other rooms, or to her office, or... to the outside?
Julie crossed the room slowly, shuffling her feet across the cool tile floor. How much time did she have? Had her hesitation already cost her the opportunity to escape? Would she ever get another one? Was it worth it, right now, to take the chance anyway?
So many questions. It was making her head hurt. She returned to her bed and sat down heavily, her toes brushing the floor as her legs swung side to side. She hadn't always had this much trouble making decisions. She could remember being very decisive before... Doug.
She grew still then. She hadn't thought of her ex-boyfriend since shortly after she'd arrived at House of Mercy. Had Anne told him she was here? Probably not. By the end she'd hated that smug bastard almost as much as Julie had. He would have just laughed if she had, maybe said something about how he knew all along that Julie was nuts.
"But I'm not nuts," Julie muttered as her eyes returned to the silver temptation of the keys. "I don't belong here. I need to leave. Now."
She stood up, unaware that her hands had balled into fists. But then, just as she was about to take her first step toward freedom, the door handle jiggled. Without a second thought Julie collapsed back onto the bed and commenced humming as she stared at the ceiling.
"Sorry to bother you again, dear," Babs told her as she entered the room and managed to make the keys disappear silently, as though they had never been there. "Cecilie has to come to visit us and would like very much to meet you."
Thursday June 16th, 2016
The exercise:
It's the middle of the month (already?) so, as promised in (very) late May, it's time to return to the House of Mercy.
Bakery was annoyingly steady this morning. There were no huge rushes, it was just that every time I went in the back to get something done (dishes, get more stock, etc) a new customer would come in within a minute or two. It was very hard to get anything done that way.
Back to picking raspberries tomorrow morning. Apparently Adam is going to have one last go at the strawberries. I will not be joining him.
Mine:
"How are you feeling this morning, dear?"
Julie continued to stare at the ceiling, thinking happy thoughts. Babs leaned over to put her face into Julie's line of sight. An ache appeared in Julie's temples as the image of a gorilla briefly appeared in Babs' stead, but then the vision passed. As did the pain.
"A little spacier than usual? Are you getting enough sleep at night, dear?"
Julie's lips parted slightly and she allowed her tongue to loll to one side.
"Hmm." Babs made a few notes in the chart in her clipboard. The sound of her pen scritching across the page reminded Julie of a chicken looking for food in a barnyard. "Perhaps it's time to review your medicine routine with one of the doctors."
"As long as it's not Dr. Lizard," Julie said with a giggle that went on just a little too long.
"So Dr. Richards still looks like a lizard to you?" Babs eyed her closely before making an additional note. Then, so quietly that Julie almost didn't hear her, she muttered, "That's good."
Good? Julie thought. Why was that good?
"Have a good rest, dear. I'll check in on you around lunch time and we'll have another chat then. See if these nice little pills of yours have helped you get back on track. Bye for now, dear girl."
"Bye bye, monkey lady," Julie said, waving enthusiastically. Babs frowned slightly before ducking out of the room.
The moment the door closed behind her Julie stopped waving. She hopped out of bed and managed to get to the toilet just in time. She was getting better at holding the pills in but that had been a close call.
"Am I overdoing it?" she asked her reflection in the small mirror above the sink, wiping the sick from her chin. "She seems to be getting suspicious. But how am I supposed to know how I was acting with all those drugs in my system?"
Well, she suddenly realized, the answer to that was fairly simple. In fact, she wasn't sure why she hadn't thought of it before then. Perhaps her head had cleared a little more overnight.
She needed to get a hold of her chart.
It's the middle of the month (already?) so, as promised in (very) late May, it's time to return to the House of Mercy.
Bakery was annoyingly steady this morning. There were no huge rushes, it was just that every time I went in the back to get something done (dishes, get more stock, etc) a new customer would come in within a minute or two. It was very hard to get anything done that way.
Back to picking raspberries tomorrow morning. Apparently Adam is going to have one last go at the strawberries. I will not be joining him.
Mine:
"How are you feeling this morning, dear?"
Julie continued to stare at the ceiling, thinking happy thoughts. Babs leaned over to put her face into Julie's line of sight. An ache appeared in Julie's temples as the image of a gorilla briefly appeared in Babs' stead, but then the vision passed. As did the pain.
"A little spacier than usual? Are you getting enough sleep at night, dear?"
Julie's lips parted slightly and she allowed her tongue to loll to one side.
"Hmm." Babs made a few notes in the chart in her clipboard. The sound of her pen scritching across the page reminded Julie of a chicken looking for food in a barnyard. "Perhaps it's time to review your medicine routine with one of the doctors."
"As long as it's not Dr. Lizard," Julie said with a giggle that went on just a little too long.
"So Dr. Richards still looks like a lizard to you?" Babs eyed her closely before making an additional note. Then, so quietly that Julie almost didn't hear her, she muttered, "That's good."
Good? Julie thought. Why was that good?
"Have a good rest, dear. I'll check in on you around lunch time and we'll have another chat then. See if these nice little pills of yours have helped you get back on track. Bye for now, dear girl."
"Bye bye, monkey lady," Julie said, waving enthusiastically. Babs frowned slightly before ducking out of the room.
The moment the door closed behind her Julie stopped waving. She hopped out of bed and managed to get to the toilet just in time. She was getting better at holding the pills in but that had been a close call.
"Am I overdoing it?" she asked her reflection in the small mirror above the sink, wiping the sick from her chin. "She seems to be getting suspicious. But how am I supposed to know how I was acting with all those drugs in my system?"
Well, she suddenly realized, the answer to that was fairly simple. In fact, she wasn't sure why she hadn't thought of it before then. Perhaps her head had cleared a little more overnight.
She needed to get a hold of her chart.
Sunday May 29th, 2016
The exercise:
I suppose we should get back to the House of Mercy, huh? You know, before May ends in... two days?
I'm going to try to get things back on track over the next few months. Aiming for mid-June, then within the first two weeks of July, then back to being in the first week for August onward. That's the plan, at any rate.
All right, let's get to it.
Mine:
Julie was feeling confused. Again. When, she wondered idly, was the last time she was truly certain of anything? Probably when she'd become convinced that she was fully, no going back, out of this world crazy. What was that, two weeks ago? Two months? During that brief time when she was convinced she'd been given a roommate who reminded her of someone she couldn't quite remember?
Now, though? She wasn't so sure.
Was she starting to get better? The signs, Julie felt, were conflicting.
It had begun shortly after they'd allowed her out of her restraints for a short period each day. That had felt like trust, as though they were telling her We know you're no longer crazy enough to do yourself harm within the confines of your room. She had been inordinately pleased.
It was a day or two after that, however, that the incident had occurred. Babs had given her the usual assortment of pills to take with lunch. Then she did her usual oral inspection to make sure they'd all gone down. Normally she would stay and make sure Julie ate a proper meal as well, but she'd been called away and didn't return for quite some time.
While she was gone Julie had begun to feel quite ill. Perhaps the fish had gone off. Maybe her medications were from an expired batch. Whatever it was, lunch (and her pills) were not going to stay down. Julie got out of bed to rush to the bathroom but there was not enough time. Not wanting to vomit all over the floor, she went to the window instead.
She'd had to clean up a little, but no evidence of what had happened remained by the time Babs returned. Embarrassed, Julie said nothing. By that night, when it was time to take her final pills of the day, her stomach was still in an uproar. This time she excused herself to use the bathroom mid-meal, ran the faucet at full blast to cover the noise, and emptied her stomach once more.
When Julie had exited the bathroom Babs had barely looked up from her notebook. They'd been working together long enough that little suspicion remained, which allowed Julie some leeway that she had never thought to take advantage of.
But by the next morning, having gone almost a full day without medicine, Julie had begun to notice things. And those things had not only brought her back to the question of her sanity, but to the practices of the staff of the House of Mercy as well.
I suppose we should get back to the House of Mercy, huh? You know, before May ends in... two days?
I'm going to try to get things back on track over the next few months. Aiming for mid-June, then within the first two weeks of July, then back to being in the first week for August onward. That's the plan, at any rate.
All right, let's get to it.
Mine:
Julie was feeling confused. Again. When, she wondered idly, was the last time she was truly certain of anything? Probably when she'd become convinced that she was fully, no going back, out of this world crazy. What was that, two weeks ago? Two months? During that brief time when she was convinced she'd been given a roommate who reminded her of someone she couldn't quite remember?
Now, though? She wasn't so sure.
Was she starting to get better? The signs, Julie felt, were conflicting.
It had begun shortly after they'd allowed her out of her restraints for a short period each day. That had felt like trust, as though they were telling her We know you're no longer crazy enough to do yourself harm within the confines of your room. She had been inordinately pleased.
It was a day or two after that, however, that the incident had occurred. Babs had given her the usual assortment of pills to take with lunch. Then she did her usual oral inspection to make sure they'd all gone down. Normally she would stay and make sure Julie ate a proper meal as well, but she'd been called away and didn't return for quite some time.
While she was gone Julie had begun to feel quite ill. Perhaps the fish had gone off. Maybe her medications were from an expired batch. Whatever it was, lunch (and her pills) were not going to stay down. Julie got out of bed to rush to the bathroom but there was not enough time. Not wanting to vomit all over the floor, she went to the window instead.
She'd had to clean up a little, but no evidence of what had happened remained by the time Babs returned. Embarrassed, Julie said nothing. By that night, when it was time to take her final pills of the day, her stomach was still in an uproar. This time she excused herself to use the bathroom mid-meal, ran the faucet at full blast to cover the noise, and emptied her stomach once more.
When Julie had exited the bathroom Babs had barely looked up from her notebook. They'd been working together long enough that little suspicion remained, which allowed Julie some leeway that she had never thought to take advantage of.
But by the next morning, having gone almost a full day without medicine, Julie had begun to notice things. And those things had not only brought her back to the question of her sanity, but to the practices of the staff of the House of Mercy as well.
Sunday April 24th, 2016
The exercise:
Sneaking it in before we hit the end of the month, as promised, today we return to the House of Mercy.
I've got some figuring out to do here, so I'm just going to get right to it.
Mine:
Anne was nearly back to solid ground when the voice froze her in place.
"That's far enough, Miss."
Looking down between her feet, she saw that it was only a few more feet until she could rest her aching, shaking arms. It seemed to her that in this case, far enough was not nearly far enough at all.
"Why don't you just climb back up there and go right back through whatever window you snuck out of, okay? Before anybody else sees you?"
"What?" Anne asked, finally finding her voice again.
"I don't know why you folks insist on trying to escape. You know we've been told to shoot to kill anybody we find making the attempt, right?"
"Shoot to...?" For a moment Anne forgot all about her trembling arms.
"On account of y'all being so dangerous? Not that I've seen none of you do anything scary enough to warrant being shot. And I especially ain't gonna shoot no woman. Not unless you got a knife hidden on you somewheres and you plan on coming at me with it?"
"I'm not a patient here. I was just trying to visit a friend."
"Uh huh. You know visiting hours are most definitely over?"
"I came earlier, they wouldn't let me see her."
"Uh huh. Whatever you say, Miss. Now if you'd just please scoot back up there? I can't exactly walk you back in the front door or they'd start asking questions as to why you're still breathing and then I'd most likely wind up losing my job. And I can't afford that, no ma'am."
"Call the front desk, then. They can verify that I'm not a patient here. Then you can -"
"Can what, Miss? Tell them I found somebody, most likely a patient, who is claiming she's not a patient, climbing down the wall? And could they please tell me if she's telling the truth or not? Because, you know, I haven't shot her yet? Ma'am, you're lucky I found you and not Bradley. He'd a shot you five times by now."
It was then that Anne's arms finally gave out and she collapsed the rest of the way down to the ground.
Sneaking it in before we hit the end of the month, as promised, today we return to the House of Mercy.
I've got some figuring out to do here, so I'm just going to get right to it.
Mine:
Anne was nearly back to solid ground when the voice froze her in place.
"That's far enough, Miss."
Looking down between her feet, she saw that it was only a few more feet until she could rest her aching, shaking arms. It seemed to her that in this case, far enough was not nearly far enough at all.
"Why don't you just climb back up there and go right back through whatever window you snuck out of, okay? Before anybody else sees you?"
"What?" Anne asked, finally finding her voice again.
"I don't know why you folks insist on trying to escape. You know we've been told to shoot to kill anybody we find making the attempt, right?"
"Shoot to...?" For a moment Anne forgot all about her trembling arms.
"On account of y'all being so dangerous? Not that I've seen none of you do anything scary enough to warrant being shot. And I especially ain't gonna shoot no woman. Not unless you got a knife hidden on you somewheres and you plan on coming at me with it?"
"I'm not a patient here. I was just trying to visit a friend."
"Uh huh. You know visiting hours are most definitely over?"
"I came earlier, they wouldn't let me see her."
"Uh huh. Whatever you say, Miss. Now if you'd just please scoot back up there? I can't exactly walk you back in the front door or they'd start asking questions as to why you're still breathing and then I'd most likely wind up losing my job. And I can't afford that, no ma'am."
"Call the front desk, then. They can verify that I'm not a patient here. Then you can -"
"Can what, Miss? Tell them I found somebody, most likely a patient, who is claiming she's not a patient, climbing down the wall? And could they please tell me if she's telling the truth or not? Because, you know, I haven't shot her yet? Ma'am, you're lucky I found you and not Bradley. He'd a shot you five times by now."
It was then that Anne's arms finally gave out and she collapsed the rest of the way down to the ground.
Thursday March 3rd, 2016
The exercise:
Today, without any warning whatsoever, we make our third visit to House of Mercy. Sorry about that, it just totally slipped my mind while writing yesterday's post.
Kat and I took a trip up to Penticton this morning for a midwife appointment. We'll be doing that every week until baby comes, as tomorrow marks one month until the due date arrives. Everything went well, as has been the case all along with this pregnancy.
Also tomorrow? I'll be working at the community centre from 2 until 9. I ran into one of the ladies who is higher up on the relief seniority list at the park yesterday and she mentioned she'll be unavailable for all of March while her daughter and her family is in town for a visit.
So hopefully that means more calls for me this month.
Mine:
Julie opened her eyes. Not with enthusiasm, but with great reluctance. Those days, that was always how she woke up. She didn't know what she was going to find waiting for her, and she didn't want to know.
This time there was only blackness. It was a relief. But only briefly.
"Have I gone blind?" she whispered. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. She could discern a slight difference in the depth and texture of the dark. "No, I suppose not. Must be night then."
Julie talked to herself a lot during those days. She knew it must only encourage the staff's diagnosis of Full Blown Crazy, but she didn't care. At least when she was talking to herself she knew there were no animals or inanimate objects involved in the conversation.
She wondered idly how long she'd been in the hospital. Days? More than that. Weeks? Maybe. Months? Not out of the question. She no longer wondered when she would get out.
There was no getting out. Julie knew that. Not for a person as crazy as herself. Anne hadn't even bothered to visit her. Just dumped her there and then returned to her happy, normal life. Probably had a nice long shower to wash the insanity off of her.
It wasn't as though Julie wanted to stay. She had just begun to realize the mental hospital was where she belonged. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to stop seeing impossible things everywhere. She didn't want to talk to the animal people anymore, but they kept talking to her.
"Doesn't mean I have to answer them," she muttered with a shake of her head. She paused, mulling this observation over in her head. Was it as simple as that? Maybe it was worth a shot. Sitting up in bed she announced to the room, "I'm done talking to the animals. They can't make me talk to them."
With a satisfied nod, she lay back down and closed her eyes. Sleep had almost returned when a noise at her window startled her fully awake.
"Julie!"
Julie propped herself up on one elbow and turned to the barred window. She didn't know what she was expecting to see... but a giant owl's head was not it. With a resigned sigh, she flopped back down and closed her eyes again.
"Julie! It's me, Anne!"
"I am not interested in talking to you anymore," Julie told the owl. It had really gotten to be too much. She was ready to go home and try to be normal again. "Please go away and don't come back."
Today, without any warning whatsoever, we make our third visit to House of Mercy. Sorry about that, it just totally slipped my mind while writing yesterday's post.
Kat and I took a trip up to Penticton this morning for a midwife appointment. We'll be doing that every week until baby comes, as tomorrow marks one month until the due date arrives. Everything went well, as has been the case all along with this pregnancy.
Also tomorrow? I'll be working at the community centre from 2 until 9. I ran into one of the ladies who is higher up on the relief seniority list at the park yesterday and she mentioned she'll be unavailable for all of March while her daughter and her family is in town for a visit.
So hopefully that means more calls for me this month.
Mine:
Julie opened her eyes. Not with enthusiasm, but with great reluctance. Those days, that was always how she woke up. She didn't know what she was going to find waiting for her, and she didn't want to know.
This time there was only blackness. It was a relief. But only briefly.
"Have I gone blind?" she whispered. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. She could discern a slight difference in the depth and texture of the dark. "No, I suppose not. Must be night then."
Julie talked to herself a lot during those days. She knew it must only encourage the staff's diagnosis of Full Blown Crazy, but she didn't care. At least when she was talking to herself she knew there were no animals or inanimate objects involved in the conversation.
She wondered idly how long she'd been in the hospital. Days? More than that. Weeks? Maybe. Months? Not out of the question. She no longer wondered when she would get out.
There was no getting out. Julie knew that. Not for a person as crazy as herself. Anne hadn't even bothered to visit her. Just dumped her there and then returned to her happy, normal life. Probably had a nice long shower to wash the insanity off of her.
It wasn't as though Julie wanted to stay. She had just begun to realize the mental hospital was where she belonged. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to stop seeing impossible things everywhere. She didn't want to talk to the animal people anymore, but they kept talking to her.
"Doesn't mean I have to answer them," she muttered with a shake of her head. She paused, mulling this observation over in her head. Was it as simple as that? Maybe it was worth a shot. Sitting up in bed she announced to the room, "I'm done talking to the animals. They can't make me talk to them."
With a satisfied nod, she lay back down and closed her eyes. Sleep had almost returned when a noise at her window startled her fully awake.
"Julie!"
Julie propped herself up on one elbow and turned to the barred window. She didn't know what she was expecting to see... but a giant owl's head was not it. With a resigned sigh, she flopped back down and closed her eyes again.
"Julie! It's me, Anne!"
"I am not interested in talking to you anymore," Julie told the owl. It had really gotten to be too much. She was ready to go home and try to be normal again. "Please go away and don't come back."
Thursday February 4th, 2016
The exercise:
It's time for our second visit of the year to House of Mercy.
But first I need to say that this morning was remarkable. I got Max to daycare with no complaints. Not a one. None whatsoever. And when we got there I stayed for like half a minute, got a hug and a bye, and I was out of there. Zero fuss.
That was undoubtedly the easiest drop off I've had with him. Like, since he started going back in November. Nothing else even comes close.
I think - and I hesitate to say this, for obvious reasons - but I think we may have turned the corner on this whole daycare thing.
Mine:
Anne was sitting in her car, drumming her fingers against the wheel and trying to decide whether or not she was doing the right thing. The parking lot was busy enough that she would have to make up her mind quickly, lest she end up in the mental hospital herself.
She had dropped Julie off two and a half weeks ago. They'd said they would call in two weeks but her phone had been deathly silent, the answering machine as empty as the fishbowl in her bedroom. Anne had given them another two days before dialing the number in the phone book for House of Mercy.
No one had picked up. There wasn't even a voicemail where she could have left a message. She knew this because she had counted the rings up to fifty-five before hanging up the final time she'd called.
They had told her they'd take good care of Julie. They had told her not to worry. But she was worried. She wanted to know how her friend was doing. If she was close to being released. If she needed more clothes or more shampoo or more... anything. That was reason enough to stop by, wasn't it?
Anne decided that it was. She got out of her car and strode across the parking lot before she could change her mind again. Or start worrying that she was only being a bother. Or interfering. Or...
She slipped into the lobby and approached the front desk. There was a man with thin, grey hair wearing a frayed suit in line ahead of her, so she was forced to wait. She tapped her foot on the soft carpet and kept her hands trapped in the pocket of her jeans in order to avoid chewing on her fingernails. Finally the man turned and shuffled away and it was her turn.
"Hello there," the receptionist said with an insincere smile. "How can I help you?"
"Hi, yes, I would like to see my friend, if that's at all possible," Anne said before stopping to take a deep breath. "I dropped her off on the 10th?"
"Her availability will depend on her status," the woman behind the desk said as she turned to her computer. "What's your friend's name?"
"Oh, right. It's Julie. Julie Miller."
"Let me have a look in our system," the woman said as she tapped away at her keyboard. A few clicks of her mouse later she returned her attention to Anne. "I'm sorry, there's no one registered here under that name."
It's time for our second visit of the year to House of Mercy.
But first I need to say that this morning was remarkable. I got Max to daycare with no complaints. Not a one. None whatsoever. And when we got there I stayed for like half a minute, got a hug and a bye, and I was out of there. Zero fuss.
That was undoubtedly the easiest drop off I've had with him. Like, since he started going back in November. Nothing else even comes close.
I think - and I hesitate to say this, for obvious reasons - but I think we may have turned the corner on this whole daycare thing.
Mine:
Anne was sitting in her car, drumming her fingers against the wheel and trying to decide whether or not she was doing the right thing. The parking lot was busy enough that she would have to make up her mind quickly, lest she end up in the mental hospital herself.
She had dropped Julie off two and a half weeks ago. They'd said they would call in two weeks but her phone had been deathly silent, the answering machine as empty as the fishbowl in her bedroom. Anne had given them another two days before dialing the number in the phone book for House of Mercy.
No one had picked up. There wasn't even a voicemail where she could have left a message. She knew this because she had counted the rings up to fifty-five before hanging up the final time she'd called.
They had told her they'd take good care of Julie. They had told her not to worry. But she was worried. She wanted to know how her friend was doing. If she was close to being released. If she needed more clothes or more shampoo or more... anything. That was reason enough to stop by, wasn't it?
Anne decided that it was. She got out of her car and strode across the parking lot before she could change her mind again. Or start worrying that she was only being a bother. Or interfering. Or...
She slipped into the lobby and approached the front desk. There was a man with thin, grey hair wearing a frayed suit in line ahead of her, so she was forced to wait. She tapped her foot on the soft carpet and kept her hands trapped in the pocket of her jeans in order to avoid chewing on her fingernails. Finally the man turned and shuffled away and it was her turn.
"Hello there," the receptionist said with an insincere smile. "How can I help you?"
"Hi, yes, I would like to see my friend, if that's at all possible," Anne said before stopping to take a deep breath. "I dropped her off on the 10th?"
"Her availability will depend on her status," the woman behind the desk said as she turned to her computer. "What's your friend's name?"
"Oh, right. It's Julie. Julie Miller."
"Let me have a look in our system," the woman said as she tapped away at her keyboard. A few clicks of her mouse later she returned her attention to Anne. "I'm sorry, there's no one registered here under that name."
Sunday January 10th, 2016
The exercise:
Daily Writing Practice's yearlong prompt tradition began in 2013 when I introduced you to Mejaran.
It continued in 2014 when Greg brought us to Vancouver Irrealis.
2015 saw me invite you to visit The Colony.
It's 2016 and the tradition must continue. So, for only the second time in this blog's 7.5 year history, the words below are not Mine. They are Morganna's.
Without further ado, I'll allow her to introduce us to the House of Mercy.
Morganna's:
Julie sat at the tiny table in the tiny apartment kitchen and held the knife to her wrist. She admired the silvery blade gleaming against her skin. She imagined slicing downward, watching the warm, red blood well out until she passed out and died. She pressed down. The apartment door opened and her roommate came in.
"Julie!" screamed her roommate, Anne. Anne ran into the kitchen, grabbed the knife from Julie, and stared at her, panting. "That's it! That's the second time this week. I'm checking you into the mental hospital."
Julie stared at her dully. Things were changing.
Anne ran into Julie's bedroom and grabbed an overnight bag. She quickly threw a week's worth of clothing in, along with Julie's toothbrush. She zipped it closed and ran back to the kitchen. She grabbed her friend's arm.
"Come on. You're getting in the car." Julie did not resist as Anne led her out of the apartment and into her car.
When they reached House of Mercy Psychiatric Hospital on the other side of town Julie nodded at everything Anne said, signed when told to sign, and was soon bundled off to a room for an extended stay.
Anne hesitated at the front desk. "She will be all right, won't she?" she asked the front desk clerk.
The clerk looked up. "Of course she will, honey. Now, we'll give you a call in a few weeks when she's ready to go home. Until then, you don't need to worry about a thing. We'll take good care of your friend."
Anne nodded and went out to her car, glancing behind her as she went. She knew this was the right thing to do, but somehow something didn't feel right.
The next morning, Julie woke up in a bright, white hospital room with sunlight pouring in. She smiled and stretched before she remembered what she was doing there. Before she could worry about the wreck of her plans, the door opened. A breakfast tray came through the opening, carried by a giant lizard in a white coat. "Here's your breakfast, sweetie," croaked the lizard.
Julie gasped. "You're a lizard! I can't eat breakfast brought by a giant lizard."
The lizard glared at her. "I'm not a lizard! Now eat your breakfast."
Daily Writing Practice's yearlong prompt tradition began in 2013 when I introduced you to Mejaran.
It continued in 2014 when Greg brought us to Vancouver Irrealis.
2015 saw me invite you to visit The Colony.
It's 2016 and the tradition must continue. So, for only the second time in this blog's 7.5 year history, the words below are not Mine. They are Morganna's.
Without further ado, I'll allow her to introduce us to the House of Mercy.
Morganna's:
Julie sat at the tiny table in the tiny apartment kitchen and held the knife to her wrist. She admired the silvery blade gleaming against her skin. She imagined slicing downward, watching the warm, red blood well out until she passed out and died. She pressed down. The apartment door opened and her roommate came in.
"Julie!" screamed her roommate, Anne. Anne ran into the kitchen, grabbed the knife from Julie, and stared at her, panting. "That's it! That's the second time this week. I'm checking you into the mental hospital."
Julie stared at her dully. Things were changing.
Anne ran into Julie's bedroom and grabbed an overnight bag. She quickly threw a week's worth of clothing in, along with Julie's toothbrush. She zipped it closed and ran back to the kitchen. She grabbed her friend's arm.
"Come on. You're getting in the car." Julie did not resist as Anne led her out of the apartment and into her car.
When they reached House of Mercy Psychiatric Hospital on the other side of town Julie nodded at everything Anne said, signed when told to sign, and was soon bundled off to a room for an extended stay.
Anne hesitated at the front desk. "She will be all right, won't she?" she asked the front desk clerk.
The clerk looked up. "Of course she will, honey. Now, we'll give you a call in a few weeks when she's ready to go home. Until then, you don't need to worry about a thing. We'll take good care of your friend."
Anne nodded and went out to her car, glancing behind her as she went. She knew this was the right thing to do, but somehow something didn't feel right.
The next morning, Julie woke up in a bright, white hospital room with sunlight pouring in. She smiled and stretched before she remembered what she was doing there. Before she could worry about the wreck of her plans, the door opened. A breakfast tray came through the opening, carried by a giant lizard in a white coat. "Here's your breakfast, sweetie," croaked the lizard.
Julie gasped. "You're a lizard! I can't eat breakfast brought by a giant lizard."
The lizard glared at her. "I'm not a lizard! Now eat your breakfast."
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