Vi fidgeted with the hem of her worn jacket while she crossed, then uncrossed her legs in the uncomfortable diner chair, waiting for “Weston” to make his debut - what kind of name was Weston anyway, she wondered, growing more impatient by the minute.

Just then, a wild mop of curly red hair blew through the restaurant doors, reaking havoc and capturing the uneasy gazes of everyone. Underneath the...

Catherine’s mother had spent the last years of her life in this very room at Pennhurst Asylum, before she ended it all and left Catherine utterly alone.

****

**They said she had arrived at the Ward looking into some family history, but then very quickly had gone mad, tormented by night terrors and “the Faceless Woman.” **

****

**Bitter and Angry, Catherine wanted to - needed to- know what truly ...

Hey Listen,

I’m not really sure

What a “poetic genre”

might be considered.

But know,

The cadence with which I write

Is a voice cool, calm, collected

-at least in my own mind.

And I know

What They say,

That It takes hard work,

patience and Preservernce

to be great

But hey,

I think it also takes

personal grace,

Courage and

education.

No, not a degree,

No fancy pedigree.

But educa...

Sweating, I look down at my husband’s strained face. If I don’t do something NOW he won’t make it. But my mask has been torn away, and if I fly any closer to him, he will see me.. he will recognize me as the monster that I am and he will never look at me the same way again.. he may never forgive me.

It’s a risk that I can’t afford to consider. I throw my arms to my side and rotate my body into a...