I keep receiving requests for more writing. I am ashamed to say I do not have anything new, but that is today's project, to work on something new. Just in case I don't get this done today, I thought I'd post a fiction piece I wrote for a creative writing class in my second semester of school. For those who are familiar with literary short stories, I based it off of Gilman's "The Yellow Wallpaper." It was published in Outlet, the BYU-Idaho literary journal. I'm sorry for those of you who have already read this story, but it's the only other thing I have write now.
Stephanie says it's weird. Let me know what you think...
It is called, "553."
The black 1940 Sedan pulled into the circular gravel drive, and Edith looked out the window at the large red brick building with white Corinthian columns that stood before her. The car stopped, though she didn’t move for several seconds while the engine died. She reached for the handle, but John stopped her.
“No, darling, let me get it,” he said as he opened his own door. Edith clicked her tongue a few times against the roof of her mouth and closed her eyes as she drew in the sweet smell of John’s cologne that lingered in the warm car. “Come on, Edi,” John said as he opened her door and took her hand.
Together the couple walked up the front steps and into a massive hall that was empty except for one circular desk in the center of the room. A young nurse with flaming hair and lipstick to match sat reading Wuthering Heights, but she looked up as the pair approached the desk. “Yes’m?” she said in a nasally voice.
“I’m John Hock. I called several days ago about my wife,” John replied, motioning to Edith who stood admiring the spacious ceiling.
The nurse looked over to Edith, stared hard, then said, “Yes, Mr. Hock. Follow me.”
“Thank you,” John said, though he didn’t really sound thankful. He took Edith’s arm and led her down the hall behind the nurse. “Now, Edi,” he whispered to keep the nurse from overhearing. “I’m paying a lot of money to keep you here. They are very full at the moment. One problem and they could kick you out. Do you understand?”
Edith didn’t look at John, but stared straight ahead and nodded. The nurse led them down several long hallways, four flights of stairs, and down another long hallway. At last they found themselves standing before a brass ‘3’ that hung crookedly on a door. The nurse motioned John and Edith in and said, “The room is 553 but a previous tenant liked to rip the numbers off the doors and use them as weapons against the cleaning maids.” She chuckled and added, “Home sweet home.”
Edith sniffed as she walked in the room. “Full, huh?” she grumbled. The petite room had four empty beds crammed against the walls. Each bed had its own nightstand as well, and in the center of the room were a small table and four chairs. In one corner there were two large bureaus. How could John say this place was so full if there were four vacant beds in one room?
“Well, Edi, what do you think?” John asked encouragingly.
When Edith didn’t respond, the nurse said, “I’ll leave you two for a minute.”
Alone at last, Edith said, “John, is this really necessary? I mean, there may not even be a problem at all.”
“Yes, there is a problem, and I’ve heard that Dr. Khord is the best there is.”
“But why do I have to live here? Why can’t I stay with you?”
“I want you to have the best treatment. This place can give you that. Dr. Khord can give you that. I’ll come to visit. This is only temporary.” When Edith didn’t look convinced, he said, “I thought we discussed this already. You’ll be taken care of here in a way that I can’t take care of you by myself. It really is best that I leave you here.”
“I know, John. You’re right. I’ll stay.”
“Good.” John smiled slightly and looked around the room. “I think this will suit you well.”
There was a soft knock at the door and the nurse peered around the doorway. “Are you about done?”
“Yes,” The nurse’s head retreated, but left the door ajar. “Well, Edi, I’ll be up to see you in a while, all right?”
Edith nodded.
“Be good,” he said, taking her waist in his hands. He kissed her forehead and walked to the door.
And he disappeared. A few minutes later she watched sadly as the Sedan pull out of view. Her sadness was soon interrupted by the sound of feet at the door and a nurse preceded three women into the room. “I’m Nurse Ode,” the nurse said. “If you have any questions or need anything, just let me know. Mealtimes are at seven, noon, and seven, with snack at three. All your food will be brought to you. Periodically you will meet with Dr. Khord. Either I will come to collect you for your meetings. Other than that, you will stay in this room. There is a phone on your nightstand in case you need something. Dial your room number, 553, and I or another nurse on duty will respond. I’m leaving now, but I’ll be back at ten to check on you.”
Once the door closed behind Nurse Ode, one of the other women spoke. “I’m Alma Courdier, and this is Irene James and Margaret Hyatt. You can take the bed against the window.” From that point on, the three ladies went about their own business ignoring Edith entirely.
Edith sat on her bed and looked around the room. Margaret feverishly turned the pages of a dictionary and mumbled, “I know I left that bird in here somewhere. It was here just a minute ago.” Irene stood beside her bed and traced an invisible pattern on the wall with her fingertip. Alma, on the other hand, looked off into the air and began talking animatedly to imaginary friends named Larry and Mrs. Wellington. She looked over at Edith briefly and said, “Mrs. Wellington doesn’t like the way you’re looking at her.”
Quickly, Edith diverted her eyes and lay on her side facing the window. A lump swelled in her throat. This wasn’t as bad as it seemed, she kept telling herself. John had promised that everything would be all right. It was better this way.
At precisely ten o’clock, Nurse Ode returned and led Edith to Dr. Khord’s office on the first floor. It featured a modest reception room with two chairs in one corner next to a dieffenbachia with leaves that reached the ceiling, a desk that sat kitty-corner to the chairs where a blond nurse hunched over a stack of paperwork, and a plain wooden door next to the desk that had a little brass plaque that read in black letters, “Dr. Ackermade C. Khord – Psychiatry.”
“Louise, this is Edith Hock to see Dr. Khord,” Nurse Ode said before disappearing into the hall.
“Take a seat,” Louise said.
Edith only sat for a few minutes more before Dr. Khord emerged, smiling and holding a thick folder under his arm.
“Hello, Edith. I’m Dr. Khord.” He held out his right hand and Edith took it. “How do you do? Please come into my office.” Once the two of them were seated on either side of an oak desk he said, “Tell me what you think so far.”
Edith paused, weighing her options, and then decided, “I don’t like the other ladies in my room. They mutter to themselves. They have imaginary friends and they look for things that don’t exist.”
Dr. Khord took a sip from a mug, jotted some notes in a folder, and then said, “Do you know why you’re here?”
“John says I’m sick. He says I need to stay here until I get better.”
“How are you sick?”
She thought for a minute. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean. John is in medical school. He knows much more than I do.”
“Do you ever cough?”
“Not often.”
“Do you feel fatigued?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
Another sip from the mug. “Do you physically hurt anywhere?”
“No.”
“So how do you know you’re sick?”
“John just told me that I was sick and I needed to stay here until I got better.”
“Yes, Edith, I understand that. But why would John say you’re sick if you don’t feel sick?”
“He knows better than I do.”
“Hmm. Have you ever hallucinated?”
“No.” She paused, and then added, “Why are you asking all these questions?”
Dr. Khord smiled and said, “I’m trying to assess the situation. Obviously your husband feels that you are ill in some way. But if you don’t feel ill, it must be that you are ill mentally and not physically. Perhaps this is why John feels he cannot help you. He doesn’t quite understand the human mind enough to delve in and discover the great issues that you may be facing. My goal is to help you, Edith, not to harm you. You are a nice young woman. You’re still very young. I hope that with some of the latest treatment, I can fix these problems you’re facing so that you can be the wife you need to be; so that one day you may be fit to have children. Do you like children?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good. I think that’s all I want to talk about for now. Regrettably, I won’t be able to see you as often as I’d like because we’re so full right now and I must take priority on my patients that were here before you. But we’ll continue this conversation later.”
As Edith emerged from Dr. Khord’s office she found Nurse Ode leaning against one wall picking at her cheap fake fingernails and feverishly knowing on her gum. “Come on, then, we’ll just get back to your room.”
By the next Friday Edith hadn’t heard from John or Dr. Khord, and she had only seen Nurse Ode at mealtimes. Sitting on her windowsill, she peered at the grounds blow. A cherub stood in the center of a fountain, spitting water in a perfect arch to the pool below. But beyond the fountain, the fog clouded everything from view. Edith knew there wasn’t much to see anyway since the hospital was in the center of a great field. She drew her initials, “E.L.R.H,” with her finger in the condensation, and said to herself, “Edith Layne Ruddings Hock. Edith Layne Ruddings Hock.” Suddenly her heart wrenched at the thought of John. Perhaps life would have been simpler if she hadn’t married him. Would she still be in this place? She’d be living alone, that’s for sure, for both her parents were dead and her only living relative was an older brother, Napoleon, but she hadn’t seen him in five years. The fact was that she had married John, maybe more for his money than anything, but she had grown to love him over the last three years. He loved her too, even though he was older than her by ten years. And the sooner she could get out of the hospital, the sooner they could start a family.
Edith wiped the letters from the window with her sleeve and looked to see the reflection of a woman. “The name’s Alma Catherine Courdier. And who are you again?” the woman said.
“Edith.”
Alma raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Well, I just came over here to tell you that Mrs. Wellington doesn’t appreciate you taking up the whole window. A person could go insane without being able to see out the window. Do you understand? That means you need to move. You don’t see the rest of us hogging the window all day, do you?”
“I hadn’t noticed. See, I was just looking out to see if my husband was coming yet.”
“Oh, you’re married. I see. So in other words, you’re too high and mighty, too above us single women to scooch away from the window. Pardon me, Miss…or Mrs. Too-Good-For-You-People.” She stomped off.
Edith looked under her bed and found nothing but bear floor, then looked up again to find Irene standing next to her. “Can I help you?”
Irene just stared.
“Do you need something?”
Suddenly, Irene grabbed a large handful of Edith’s hair and yanked as hard as she could.
“OUCH! What did you do that for?”
Irene let go of the hair and stood, her face void of expression.
“Leave me alone.”
Irene went back to her bed as Edith nestled herself under her covers with Moby Dick.
Dinner came at precisely seven, which made Edith grateful. She inhaled her beef stew and cornbread and then sat beside her bed in front of a notebook, pen in hand. “Darling John—” She sat for a moment to think of what she should write. “I have just been through my first week here at the hospital. It has been different than what I expected. They are very full here, so I have to share my room with three other girls: Irene James, Margaret Hyatt, and Alma Courdier. Margaret seems pleasant enough, but already I’ve had run-ins with Irene and Alma. I hope that they’re just nervous about having a new roommate. Perhaps next week will be better. I look forward to seeing you. Love, Your Edi.”
When Nurse Ode came in to collect the supper dishes, Edith said, “Could you mail this letter to my husband?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” is all Nurse Ode said before she left.
Back to the window she went, though this time cautiously so as to not take up the whole window. Down in the driveway she saw the black Sudan, and John emerged, carrying a small brown parcel. “JOHN!” Edith called, but then she remembered that he couldn’t hear her through the glass while she was so many stories above him. She ran to the door, but it was locked, so she went to the phone and dialed 553.
“Yes, Edith, what can I do for you?” It was Nurse Ode.
“John’s here! He’s here! Can I meet with him somewhere other than in my room? I just don’t want the other ladies to be bothered by him.”
“No, you need to stay in your room. It’s almost time for bed.”
“But John is here!”
“Edith, hang up the phone now; it’s time to go to bed.”
“But it’s not even eight o’clock!”
“Edith, hang up the phone.”
Edith slammed the phone on the receiver and crossed her arms. Margaret, Irene, and Alma all stared at her in alarm. Finally, Margaret broke the silence. “Don’t get so angry. They love you, and you don’t have to worry about what other people think of you. You are a beautiful woman. Don’t let some megalomaniac tell you any different.”
Edith felt her anger rising and wanted nothing more than to sock Margaret in the jaw. She thought better of it, however, and dressed for bed instead.
The next morning Edith awoke to find Nurse Ode shaking her. “Edith, you have another meeting with Dr. Khord as soon as you’re ready. I’ll be waiting just outside the door for you.”
Edith dressed quickly and in a matter of minutes was being ushered into Dr. Khord’s office once again.
“How are you this morning, Edith?”
“I’m tired. Nurse Ode usually doesn’t wake me.”
“Yes, but this is the only time I’m available to meet with you for several weeks, so I thought I’d better take advantage of it. What I want to do today is talk about your childhood.” He opened a tan folder sitting in front of him and thumbed through a several papers. “This record shows that you are an orphan. Who were you raised by?”
“I raised myself.”
“Who did you live with while you were growing up?”
“First Aunt Regina, then Aunt Vera, and then Napoleon.”
“And Napoleon is your brother. I understand he’s quite a bit older than you.”
“Fifteen years older.”
“Is he married?”
“No. He’s very poor. And once he couldn’t support me anymore, he sent me to work as a maid for John.”
“And you’ve been married for three years?”
“Yes.” Edith took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think of John anymore. “Are we done?”
“Nearly. How are you roommates?” He thumbed through his papers
“They’re crazy.”
Dr. Khord drew in a deep breath. “How do you know?”
“Are you suggesting I’m crazy?” Edith said, affronted.
“I’m not suggesting anything.”
“I don’t think I’m going crazy! I said I thought the other women were crazy!” she raged.
“Edith, if you can’t calm down I’ll have you escorted back to your room. I advise you to control your temper.”
“But I…I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why I’m here and why I was put in a room with insane people.”
“You said John thought you were sick. Do you feel sick?”
“No, I feel fine,” she said with resentment.
“Did you think that because John said you are sick, you are?”
“I…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
“You seem out of sorts. Do we need to reschedule this meeting?”
“That’d be good.” Edith stood but paused at the door. “When is John stopping by again?”
Dr. Khord looked perplexed. “I’m not sure.”
“I want to see him! Why does everyone think I don’t want to see him? I love my husband! You can’t keep him from me!”
Dr. Khord interrupted. “Enough, Edith! I’m sure you do love your husband. But right now is not the time to discuss this any further while you’re so worked up. Now, it’s time to return to your room.”
Several weeks went by as Edith sat on her bed looking out the window, for the other women were too occupied talking to invisible people to take notice of the lonely girl in the corner. Almost two months had past before John’s Sudan pulled into the drive once again. She ran to the phone, but Irene had picked it up and was intently examining the earpiece. “Irene, I need to make a call,” she said, but Irene made no effort to give her the phone.
“Irene, dear, did you hear Edith? She wants to make a call,” Alma hollered from the other side of the room.
“IRENE! GIVE HER THE PHONE!” This time it was Margaret who yelled in somewhat of a dreamy tone.
There was a knock at the door. “Okay, forget it. Just hush,” Edith said as she ran to the door and opened it. “JOHN!” She threw her arms around his neck.
“Edi, please,” he said, quietly through his beet-red face. “Not in front of these women.”
“Sorry, John. I was just excited to see you. Did you get my letter?”
“No. Did you write one?”
“Maybe it’s still in the post.”
“That could be.”
“Why don’t you come in, John, and sit on my bed?”
“I’m in a hurry. I just wanted to make sure they were treating you well here.”
“I guess as good as any hospital. Any word on how much longer I’ll be in here?”
“I’m really not sure. Don’t worry about that right now. You’ll be released when Dr. Khord feels you’re ready to be released.” Footsteps were coming down the hall. “I better go, Edi. You take care. Don’t tell Dr. Khord about this, or anyone else. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Why would I get—“
“Edi, just be good. I’ll see you later. I have to do.”
In an instant, John had vanished around the corner just as Nurse Ode came into view. Edith slammed the door and ran to the window. John had already managed to get to his car and was just pulling away when Nurse Ode opened the door.
“Time for dinner.”
One morning Edith awoke, looked around the room, and gasped. Alma, Margaret, and Irene weren’t there. Blood covered her sheets, her hands, the blankets on the other beds, the bureau, and the walls. All the drawers on the bureau had been pulled out and the clothing that had once been in them was gone. Her own clothing was strewn about the room, spattered with blood. Broken glass from the frame that once held a picture of John was scattered on her bed and the floor. Perhaps it had been a burglar and she had slept right through it.
In a panic, she wrapped her robe around her, found a pin in her hair, and picked the lock on the door. She ran down the four flights of stairs as silently as possible, somehow evading any nurse or guard that might have been wandering through the corridors. At last she arrived at Dr. Khord’s reception room. She opened the door and found Louise deeply involved in her paperwork, so she crept past and opened Dr. Khord’s office door.
Dr. Khord was pouring over a large folder of documents, but as Edith entered, he looked up and removed the glasses that had been perched on the tip of his nose. “Edith, is something the matter?”
Gasping for breath, she began, “I woke up this morning and found my room torn apart! I think there’s been a kidnapping!”
“Who’s been kidnapped?” Dread filled Dr. Khord’s face.
“My roommates! They’ve been attacked or something! And now they’re missing!” She broke down in tears.
“Okay, okay. Sit down Edith, and let’s talk.”
“There’s no time for that! We have to find them!”
“Edith, it’s all right. We’ll figure this out,” he said calmly. He then glanced down at Edith’s hands which were placed in her lap. “Is that blood?”
“I think so!”
He went to her and pushed her sleeves up her arms a little. Long lacerations ran from her wrists to the backs of her elbows. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know…I don’t remember!”
Pulling the sleeves back down, Dr. Khord let out a long slow breath. He opened the door a crack and hollered out, “Louise, would you come here for a moment? Who are the other tenants from Edith Hock’s room? That’s H-O-C-K.”
Louise riffled through some pages in a book that sat before her and said, “Edith is the only resident in 553.”
“And I gave no relocation authorization.”
Edith leaned over to peek at the papers on Dr. Khord’s desk and began chanting the title quietly. “Relocation authorization, relocation authorization, relocation authorization.” This seemed to calm her nerves.
“That’s a little scary,” Louise said, looking at Edith’s arms.
“Scary Jerry. Scary Jerry Larry Barry Harry Mary, Carrie,” Edith muttered. She was suddenly feeling relaxed, almost elated.
“Edith?” Dr. Khord said quietly. He was squatting right in front of her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine...And you?”
Unsure of how to respond, Dr. Khord cleared his throat and said, “Will you take me to your room?”
She nodded and the two of them walked down the several long hallways, up the four flights of stairs, and eventually came to the ‘3’ door. Dr. Khord opened it and said, “After you…”
Edith walked in and found the room just as torn apart as it had been. She began hyperventilating. “See, Dr. Khord? The other women are gone!”
Dr. Khord’s face became whiter as he took a walkie-talkie from his belt and said, “Louise, I need some assistance here…And call Mr. Hock.” He then looked to Edith. “How about you just lay right here on the bed for a minute?”
“Is everything okay, Doctor?”
“Yes, you just look a little pale. Just lay here on the bed and don’t talk.”
Edith knelt on her bed and looked out the window. Parked in the driveway was the 1940 Sedan.
“Dr. Khord, John’s here! He’s here! Look out the window! He’s come for me! Take me to him!”
Again, Dr. Khord put the walkie-talkie to his lips. “Louise, get up here now!”
“Dr. Khord, please let me see John!” She lunged for Dr. Khord, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on as if he were keeping her from falling off a cliff.
“LOUISE!”
The door burst open. Louise jabbed a needle into Edith’s leg. Her body went limp.
“Thank you Louise,” Dr. Khord said regretfully as two guards came running in and lifted Edith onto a stretcher. “I was afraid this would happen if I left her too long.” He looked out the window down to the empty gravel drive.
