Violet Wimmen

Bits and pieces of words and images, scattered and tossed about by the wind of unmedicated psychosis.

What started as a stir fry of impressions working with psychiatric patients (seasoned by my personal damages) has become something of a crock pot dish of mind offal. This piece has been, a novel,novella,essay,poem,and 5 part play. Sometimes I think of it as a photo album I once threw across a room in rage, then re assembled out of order. With every experience is potential....this re arrangement proved to be a fine tool in keeping interest in viewing a photo album..no multiples of this vacation or that birthday, but rather more like a real, organic memory retrieval system,,,out of order, non sens ical



CHAPTER nOt Yet NUmbered.



“Hellooooooo...Hey you alright?

“……………..trees are like people- no- forests are like humanity The little sapling twigs struggling for light beneath the big old leafy prime timers they’re surrounded by broken twigs yea and rot lots of rot..look at the old trees with their broken branches and big cancer holes...mould and mushrooms are what they all come from and return eventually circle of rot

And the old ones aren’t smarter they are dying dead and lost at best and who cares about them except the mushrooms and moss its so dark in there the light is eaten up by the powers that be leafy..

“Are you ok? Do you need help?”

“…the hunters are coming can hear them...oh shit..Where can I hide? What if they shoot me..?burn me cuz they think I’m an old rotten tree”

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Its ok..Are you alright?

He looked disproportionately small...like at the end of some tiny tunnel and slowly swinging side to side.

He touched her shoulder

“WHOA” “here it comes oh shit shit shit shit” she screamed in the large empty space inside her brain. Echoing, bouncing on rubber walls.

Her shoulder felt so cold to his touch. Her face, frozen in that startled expression was reminiscent of a graveyard angel, looking sad and shocked all at once…Oh sweet innocence lost. I can’t believe they’re dead.

It was the unspeakable beauty in her sorrow that made her look luminescent in his eyes.

Frank Shellwin had been a rookie cop the first time he saw a face like this. The night the call came for an assist on Beacon St. He was the one that discovered the kid in the closet. His flashlight on the little knucklehead who thought he could hide there in the dark and life could rewind if he never came out of there, never had to remember what he saw.

Nature has a way of protecting its human creatures from immediate damage in the circumstances where there is unspeakable horror and no backup plan.

“ Come on, you gotta be cold. You’re soaking wet. Let me take you somewhere, where do you live? My name is Frank but everybody calls me Shell. I promise I won’t hurt you. Please. Let me get you out of here”

Violets head slowly turned toward the voice. Just to the left of a Linda Blair motion, eyes still staring and glazed.

“what the fuck” she thought

She was stunned by his eyes. Then, the incredible structure of his unacceptable nose complete with its Persian flaw of a bump. His mouth and lips wide, like the joker but without a molecule of malice. "oh, yes, I have seen this movie with the immortal whats her name where she plays a dog, and then the boat................."

“Its ok…relax, everything is ok…what’s your name?”

Awareness awakened in her eyes just before she collapsed.

He checked breathing and pulse. No smell of alcohol, no pinned pupils..so not an overdose..

Eyes equally reactive to light “OK no physical danger” he knew from EMS class.

He also knew what the authorities did with people like Violet.

“Not going to happen.” He vowed.

He lifted her from the park bench and leaned her against his shoulder.

She walked, kind of. Pulled along with frankenstinean poise she bumbled towards his car. She allowed herself to be placed like a bag of frozen peas into the passenger seat of his 1967 Mustang.

He found her state ID

Violet Wimmen

845 W. Bellplaine 2W

“Violet, nice name. I’m taking you home Violet. I’m sure someone is very worried about you right about now.”

“oOh yea” Violet mused in her head; now back near the generally accepted reality.” You”