h is for harlequin’s heliotrope

“She is imprisoned in her mind,” the doctor explained to a colleague. The rocking woman appeared not to comprehend or acknowledge the others in her room. Rather, she clutched her knees and rocked.

“Does she speak?” the white-coated visitor asked.

“Only in puzzles and enigmas, Dr. Hunter Green, replied. “She might whisper about honeysuckle and honey dew.”

“Perhaps she was a gardener before the . . . What was it again?”

“During the heat wave last year, she collapsed. They found her in the Hollywood Cerise park, dressed in hooker’s green and clinging to a bunch of heliotropes.”

“What is her prognosis?” the visitor asked, “I believe you diagnosed a rare illness at work upon her.”

“Yes, a variant strain of Heidelberg Red fever. Usually, though, patients presenting this disease, recover, to some extent, after six months, and within a year are free of any trace of the virus.”

Dr. Green sighed, “Yet, her fever has yet to break. The strain remains active.”

“So, you assume that is the cause of her condition?”

“She was examined closely when she arrived. Her skin was hot pink around small puncture wounds..”

“A drug user, perhaps?”

“Would seem so; traces of Honolulu Blue, a rather expensive habit.”

“That drug can break a person when deprived?”

Dr. Hunter nodded, “Yes, and with the virus, it is no wonder she is lost in some other world.”

The visitor glanced out the window. “Beyond help, beyond the harvest gold full moon rising.”

A nurse entered the room, “Dr. Hunter, Harvard Crimson has become very agitated.

“I will be back shortly,” Dr. Hunter told the visitor, as he stepped out of the room.

Alone with the rocking woman, the visitor took a syringe from the pocket of the borrowed white coat. Its owner was not in a state to miss it, he thought.

He sat on the floor, “Well, Harlequin, you have been a hard one to find. However, as no one has since the significance of those flowers you had, they are unaware of what is to come.”

He grasped Harlequin, forcing her to stop her rocking motion. He pushed up the sleeve of her hospital gown, and injected, into her thin arm, a heliotrope-magenta coloured fluid.

Dr. Green reentered the room to find the visitor gone. The woman rocked in slow-motion; her lips moving without making a sound in a beam of moonlight.

“Oh, that we could mend you,” he thought

Inside her head, she screamed: “Heliotrope is hell-it-rophic; beware the purple man . . .  

h is for harlequin’s heliotrope: a to z challenge

mlmm Saturday mix: opposing forces (imprison – freedom; break – mend)

image: wikipedia