Portraits of the Asylum | Teen Ink

Portraits of the Asylum

October 24, 2014
By 3wordstodescribeme GOLD, Albuquerque, New Mexico
3wordstodescribeme GOLD, Albuquerque, New Mexico
12 articles 1 photo 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
"In the end, we all become stories." --Margaret Atwood

If you follow the third star on the left,
and go straight on until midnight,
you may find yourself at a very peculiar place
known as Grimm’s Home for Disturbed Children.

And if you were to walk in the doors,
you would find yourself in a very clean lobby,
classical music floating from invisible speakers,
grey couches and brightly colored chairs.
A magazine stack, some word search and sudoku books.

As you can see,
it’s quite a normal hospital.
But what makes it so interesting are the inhabitants.

My name’s Rapunzel.
I’ll take you on a tour.
Unfortunately, the children aren’t taking visitors now.
But I can show my drawings of them.

Oh look here we are.
This is my room.
Oh the walls.
Well yes,
they’re a bit covered.
I love drawing their portraits, you see. 

Who’s that?
Why that’s Ella,
our newest patient.
She had a little incident with some drinking glasses at home,
and well her parents were a bit concerned for her safety.
Poor dear,
Had some hallucinations about being a princess,
pumpkins turning into carriages,
you get the picture.

That there’s Jack.
He didn’t really grow a beanstalk,
It was an urban legend,
twisted out of proportion.
Jack struggles with anger a bit.
He was bullied for being so scrawny.
So beat up the bully,
so much bigger than he was,
and then climbed a tree.
He’s famous here,
for standing up to someone.
They call him the Giant Killer.

Here’s one of Jack’s friends.
Boy who cried wolf.
We don’t know his real name,
he’s a selective mute, nearly catatonic.
His parents never believed anything he said,
because, like Ella,
he’s delusional.
Sees wolves around every corner for some reason.
the only person that can get to him is Red.

That’s her drawing, next to his.
She was traumatized at an early age,
found her grandma dead in bed one morning.
It wasn’t a gruesome death,
but sometimes kids,
tend to exaggerate things.
She’s convinced Grandma was eaten by a wolf.
She won’t believe us when we tell her Grandma is an angel now.

Oh and that’d be Dorothy.
Again, prolonged hallucinatory psychosis.
She’s had some interesting characters masquerading around up there.
A walking scarecrow, a man made of tin, a talking lion.
She’s a bit confused.
Gets along very well with Ella and Alice though.
They like telling stories.

And here’s Alice.
She’s one of the youngest here, and has had some interesting characters as well.
A crazy tailor or somesuch, some rabbit with a watch.
She’s a smart girl,
Her mother though, what a menace,
(don’t tell her I said that)
she’s obsessed with her garden,
roses, you know.
She was very abusive to poor Alice.
She’s so much safer here.

What’s that?
You’re wondering why I’m here, aren’t you?
I’m not crazy.
I came here to draw them.
And they sort of rubbed off on me.
I could never go home.
They wouldn’t…
understand me anymore.
So I stay here.
I’m not unhappy.
They give me enough dull blue pens to make as many drawing as I want.
But I noticed,
That when I started drawing them,
the ink got harder and harder to remove.
Spots and spirals appeared like tattoos.
my hands are completely stained with it.
I’ve tried so many times to wash it out.
But no matter how much soap I use,
no matter how many gloves I wear to cover it up,
I can never get it off.

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