The Poisoned Mind
This is a short story based off a writing prompt that was given to us. It was a garden that could be seen through a window. Please let me know what you think!
Eileen Martin sat by the window of her grand Victorian home, her fingers casually tracing the exquisite designs on the lace curtain. She looked outside at the overgrown garden, where the flowers had once flourished vibrantly but were now faded and neglected. Her once-powerful body was now restricted to a wheelchair, her motions languid and strained. She moved her attention inside, her thoughts drifting back through time to another age.
Eileen had always been a strong lady, inspiring both respect and dread. She had raised Jenna alone after her husband was tragically killed in a vehicle accident when Jenna was a kid. It was a difficult life, but Eileen faced it with the same tenacity she brought to everything. Jenna, on the other hand, had always been a sensitive child who wanted to please but never met her mother’s high expectations. Eileen had a strong love for her daughter, but criticism and harsh words frequently overshadowed it.
As Jenna grew, Eileen’s health deteriorated. Arthritis gnawed at her joints, and a series of little strokes whittled away at her once keen mind. Jenna took on the domestic duties, and to the outside world, she was a shining example of selflessness. The people of Castle Rock marveled at her dedication, muttering among themselves about how fortunate Eileen was to have such a loyal daughter. They didn’t notice the tension simmering beneath the surface, the long years of bitterness forming like storm clouds on the horizon.
Eileen’s thoughts returned to the present when she heard Jenna’s footsteps approaching. She had grown to recognize the small distinctions in her daughter’s steps throughout the years — the heavy tread of exasperation, the light taps of ecstasy, and the precise, controlled pace she now takes. Jenna entered the room with a tray, her face a mask of happy serenity.
“Lunch is ready, Mom,” she murmured, placing the tray on the tiny table next to Eileen’s chair. Her speech was pleasant, but Eileen could sense the underlying tension.
Eileen let Jenna help her to the table, feeling a familiar mix of bitterness and thankfulness. She took a sip of the soup and tasted the familiar combination of flavors. But there was something else she’d noticed throughout the previous months. A faint, bitter undertone that didn’t quite fit. She had been documenting these changes, the gradual but constant decline in her health, which was far too consistent to be natural.
Jenna regarded her with a keen eye, her concern was almost believable. “How’s the soup, Mom?” she inquired, her tone soft.
Eileen forced a smile. “It’s fine, Jennifer. “Thank you.”
As Jenna worked on cleaning the room, Eileen’s thoughts drifted to her journal. She had scrupulously recorded every symptom and suspicion. She had even set up a little camera hidden amid the knick-knacks on her dresser to record Jenna’s visits and the moments she delivered the drugs. It had been a hardship, but Eileen was resourceful.
Later that afternoon, after Jenna had left for work, Eileen wheeled herself to her dresser. She took out the journal and flipped over the pages, which were filled with her cramped handwriting. The evidence was all there, a scathing account of her daughter’s deceit. She had given Dr. Hayes the journal and recordings during his last visit. She trusted him; he had been their family doctor for decades, and she was confident he would do the right thing.
A few hours later, Dr. Leonardy Hayes arrived as usual, his countenance a mix of professional detachment and genuine concern. He greeted Jenna enthusiastically, but Eileen noticed a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. He came upstairs and spent more time than usual with Eileen, reading the journal and the footage she had provided.
“Jenna, could we talk for a moment?” Dr. Hayes inquired when he eventually arrived downstairs.
Jenna’s smile faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. “Of course, Dr. Hayes,” she said, her voice firm but her eyes showing a hint of uneasiness.
They sat around the kitchen table, the air dense with unsaid hostility. Dr. Hayes gazed at Jenna with regret and despair.
“Jenna, your mother is still keeping a record of her symptoms, and she believes someone is poisoning her.”
Jenna’s cheeks turned pale. “Still?”
“Yes,” Dr. Hayes said, pausing. “She has detailed logs and even video evidence.” I’ve seen it myself. “She gave me her journal and the recordings.”
Jenna’s hands trembled slightly as she held them together. “Dr. Hayes, you know my mother. She has always been paranoid, especially as she has grown older. She isn’t thinking clearly. You’ve witnessed her deteriorate firsthand.”
Dr. Hayes nodded slowly, a sigh coming from his lips. “I understand, Jenna. And it’s awful to witness. Since the stroke, the damage to the brain has caused the mind to transform reality into something dark and threatening. It is a horrible sickness. “Your mother truly believes what she has documented.”
Jenna’s eyes filled with tears, and her voice trembled. “I only want to take care of her. It’s very painful to watch her like this and hear her accusations.”
“I know, Jenna,” Dr. Hayes replied softly. “I understand how much you love your mother. We will continue to help you both through this. Just remember that her psychosis is a result of her disease, not a reflection of reality.”
Jenna wiped her eyes, attempting to compose herself. Thank you, Dr. Hayes. It is much appreciated to have your support.”
“Don’t forget to put these back on her shelf when she goes back to sleep,” Dr. Hayes instructed as he returned the journal and film tape. “It is better for her to continue believing in the deception than to confront her true reality. That might be too hard for her to accept.”
Jenna went to get lunch after the doctor departed and slowly returned to her mother’s room. Eileen sat by the window, peering out at the garden, her face confused and sad.
“Lunch is ready, Mom,” Jenna announced as she set the soup in front of her mother.
Thank you for reading my short story. Please let me know what you think about it. Here is a link to another story you may be interested in.
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