Petals. Marti Eicholz
Petals
Unfurling a Life with Mental Illness
A Novel
Marti Eicholz
Copyright 2020 Marti Eicholz,
All rights reserved.
Published by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
ISBN: 978-1-4566-3430-8 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-4566-3432-2 (hardcover)
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
To all the courageous individuals who shared their real-life dramas we are grateful. Your lives matter.
The facts and stories learned along with the author’s imagination shaped this fictional narrative.
This is a human experience story intended to educate and entertain.
Table of Contents
Introduction
The stroke of a pen annihilated all hopes and dreams.
Mary entered the prison system with a plethora of physical and emotional obstacles. The reality of being in prison was devastating. Her cell was barely six feet by four with a creaky bed, a springy mattress and only one thin blanket. Surrounded by four thick grey stone walls, no wide window with a flower box only a mean barred opening with metal bars, the isolation was total.
With zero stimulation, there was nothing to do but stare at the chipped paint from time passing, or gouged by other prisoners, anything to pass the time. Slowly she was going mad as she theorized absurd meanings from the wall’s blank stare. It was dark. It was unforgiving. It was lonely. Desolation was all-consuming. Feeling disoriented, Mary thought given enough time she could forget her name.
In the past when anxiety and fear grabbed her by the tongue and dried her mouth, she would remind herself I am a good person. I do good things. Everything will be all right. Mary saw sunshine on every leaf and a sunbeam in every petal. Her fingers tingled holding a flower petal and a flush rose to her cheek. The fragrance comforted her. Not now, there were no flowers. Where was she going to soak in the calm peace of nature.
She felt emotionally bankrupt. There was nothing to feel, nothing to say, nothing but the void that enveloped her mind in swirling blackness. Mary found as storms rose inside, the winds howled in her soul wrapping icy tentacles around her heart so tightly it almost stopped beating and the odors from rotting stems and petals suffocated. All the damage made her mind a wasteland and triggered her past. A past that promised rose buds unfurling beauty.
Mary’s anxiety and fear also came from that place and time.
Death Hovers
Passing the rose garden, Kenneth Turner, a junior in high school eyeballed the opening roses with radiant petals left to unfurl. He thought these roses remind me of a life unfolding and the petals represent the many layers that make this living being so intriguing. Beautiful on the outside, but their real beauty lies within. Memories fill my mind.
The task at hand is to rid myself of these crutches. Whoever invented crutches never used them. The sticks clunked along the hard-baked earth, and with each clunk they jolted him in the armpit. The cushioning under the arm was to soften and comfort, but no matter how Kenneth adjusted or folded the padding it still poked as a hard stick. By the time he reached the school bus, he was sore and irritable.
Kenneth Turner’s insides were in a chaos. Something was bothering him. Something was hurting him. He ached. It felt so wrong.
He boarded the bus. Kenneth’s mind drifted to the times he and his brother Mike walked in silence through this every kid’s dream town. It had no city planning. Every building was different, borrowing something from another era. It made the place as glorious as one of their mother’s beloved quilts every patch unique and eye-catching as the other.
They passed the greengrocer with his window full of apples and oranges, and the butcher with his bloody lumps of meat on display and naked chickens hanging up. There was a small bank and an electrical shop. The town was a maze of narrow winding streets. They loved to walk what they called a wonderland.
Mike would say, “Look up Kenny, the sky is all etched in blue.”
Kenneth always replied with, “Miki, the sky is the same color as your eyes. Also, notice the lawns are always freshly cut. Maybe we could get jobs mowing lawns.”
Mike making a stop to just stare, “I would love to work in these gardens overflowing with explosions of color.”
Now as Kenneth rode gazing out the bus window, he remembered times past. As the bus hit a pothole, it jerked to the side, jolting him back to the present.
The bus approached a narrow country road, curling over the hill. The houses on each side