Letters of an Inmate

[Cicatrice]

The idea is to write the letters of a badly delusional young woman of the early 1920's in an upperclass mental institution.


Dearest Marina,

I arrived just this morning, but I am settled enough to unpack
now and I wanted to drop a quick line so you wouldn't worry.
Everything is quite perfect, better even than my highest hopes; it
is warmer indoors than I had expected, the last time I had
occasion to impose on Mr. Ericson's hospitality I found myself quite
chilled through, but I have no cause for complaint this time and I
am certain I will have recovered from my fatigue in a few days so
that I may return to my normal routine.
Please tell Adam to hurry with my viola, I think playing it now
will make me feel closer to all of you, especially Lauren. Just the
other day, in the gardens, I met a young girl who so resembled
Lauren it quite took my breath away; once we'd spoken for a few
minutes I found myself quite taken with her for she told the most
fascinatingly morbid stories you ever heard, and tomorrow I will
be taking tea with her mother when she comes to visit.
All the other guests are quite as delightful, I can't imagine how
charming it must be to simply stay here all the time as many of
them do, but I simply couldn't survive without the bustle of city
life, as soon as my nerves are recovered I shall be so quick to
return there's no train could catch me!

All my love,
Sincerity Reynolds

[nycwriters]

Dearest Marina,

I awoke this morning to the delightful sound of birds trilling outside my window. It's really quite divine and I can't wait for you to visit to experience it.

The blooms on the trees outside my window are obstructed a bit by the bars they seem to have put there -- they've assured me it's for my safety (who knew there would be crime this far out in the country?), but I've found that if I use my imagination I can almost remove them from the view.

I've decided this horrendous color green they've selected as paint for the walls just won't do. Whatever would my friends on Park Avenue think to come into a room with such garish taste? My next project here during my short stay here is to help them improve the look of the place. They'll thank me for it later.

Have you sent off the viola? I feel completely naked without it, please tell me you've been a dear and sent it off. If not please be persistent with Adam, it would mean ever so much to me (thanks in advance!).

Give my love to mother.

Affectionately,

Reynolds

[Cicatrice]

My darling Lauren,

I meant to write you as soon as I arrived but it is so hard to
remember you're not simply in the next room, I am so used to
your company.

Aunt Elizabeth and Auntie Marina have already written me long
glowing letters to tell me what an angel you've been and I'm so
proud. Do remember to mind Adam even when he's being difficult,
for you know he loves you very much and only means to tease.

I've sent you a watercolour I made of the sun rising over Mr.
Ericson's gardens, although I left out the silly iron fence he's put
in which I think now was a mistake, as there's some scroll
work on it that is really quite exquisite once you get used to it. I
think dear Mr. Ericson must be getting quite paranoid in his
advancing years, for not only has he put gaurd rails on my
windows and raised that ridiculous metal fence, his staff insists it
would be simply too dangerous for me to venture out past the
gates, and they seemed quite overcome with panic when I went
for a quiet stroll yesterday to clear my head.

Give my love to all my friends, especially Adam, but keep the most
for yourself for I miss you greatly

your own Mama,
Sincerity