Where Art Thou Sanity?

Version One

She sat on the very edge of the cushioned chair, staring at nothing in particular. Her foot tapped nervously, but softly, on the hardwood flooring, and she bit her lip. A hand flew to pull back the sweater sleeve that covered her cheap watch. It had stopped ticking.

She let out a choked sigh. Wrenching sobs racked her ribs. Her hair encircled her face like a veil as she bent over herself. She recollected her emotions with a few final gasps and a shuffling of her hair, and repositioned herself regally on the seat, legs crossed, as if nothing had happened at all.

Version Two

I wonder how long this will take? It shouldn’t be too long now. These walls are too blank. They need pictures. Many pretty pictures. That’s what I’ll tell them as soon as I go in. It shouldn’t be too long now. I wonder how long this will take? A hand flew to pull back the sweater sleeve that covered her cheap watch. It had stopped ticking.

No! The scream lodged in her throat, coming out as a half sigh, half cry. Everything always gets ruined. Always, always, always. She crumpled on the chair. She sobbed. Nothing is ever right. Everything runs out of batteries at some time then you don’t have any use for it. It always gets ruined. Always, always, always. Always, always, always…

She recollected her emotions with a few final gasps and a shuffling of her hair, and repositioned herself regally on the seat, legs crossed, as if nothing had happened at all. I want some tea. Tea and crumpets for later.

Version Three

Ms. Hathaway was never the brightest crayon in the box. I know she used to be beautiful when she was younger, I remember that much, but now tufts of her prematurely graying hair are missing. My, that woman even has dark circles under her eyes. She’s as coo-coo as a clock can get these days, I say. It’s a wonder she can even get along on her own.

Oh, there she goes again, another one of her fits. I ought to tell him they’re more frequent now, he’ll give her more medication. He would know if these constant fits are dangerous. To her health. Now she’s righted herself, and back to staring at the wall.

“Ms. Hathaway, Dr. Butler will see you now.”

The End

13 comments about this exercise Feed