Turnstile Picture Writing

One of our first creative writing assignments in Elika's class was to view candid photographs of people progressing through the turnstiles at a subway station, taken by professional photographer, Bill Sullivan, and to write a fictional story about one of the subjects. I chose to create a tale about the man fifth from the right on this picture.

The Paranoid Delusion Related Beatings Blues
by Team Roemer

It was one of those rare, picturesque days in New York. The sun was shining, the air was relatively carcinogen free, and squirrels frolicked amongst the industrial waste deposits gaily. Unfortunately, Mr. Sullivan was having trouble enjoying this beautiful morning due to the fact that his eyes were swollen shut, his nose smelt of coagulated blood, and he was in traction in the middle of the intensive care ward of Columbia Presbyterian Medical hospital. A few hours passed, and Mr. Sullivan watched patients and nurses go by as he lapsed in and out of consciousness. He was awakened later that evening by someone changing his bedpan. Noting that he had awoken, the slightly overweight nurse finished her job and then waddled off to notify Mr. Sullivan's doctor.

Several minutes later, a doctor walked in. She appeared to be quite attractive, although Mr. Sullivan was in no condition to judge, as the swelling of his eyes had yet to recede. The immobile patient attempted to inquire about the cause of his condition, only to find that his jaw was wired shut. Luckily for Mr. Sullivan, his doctor had years of experience in communicating with incapacitated clients, and she was able to interpret what to anyone else would be an incomprehensible series of grunts and moans. "Well, Mr. Sullivan, its quite the story," she began. "As you recall, you were photographing everyday people walking through the turnstile without their knowledge. What you didn't know, however that the subject of your eight photo suffered from a rare neurological disorder known as GFD". The doctor produced a ream of pictures from her lab coat, and began leafing through them, searching for the photos she wanted. Noting Mr. Sullivan's surprise she explained "we took the liberty of developing your photographs while you were comatose. You'll understand why in a a minute,". Having found the pictures she was looking for, she set the rest of them down at Sullivan's bedside table. The doctor selected a photo and showed it to her patient. The man standing at the turnstile seemed vaguely familiar. "If you look closely at this photograph, you'll notice several odd characteristics in this gentleman's appearance. Note the abnormally shaped head, the disheveled clothing and the asymmetrical eyes. To the average observer, these features may seem inconsequential, but to a neurologist such as myself, these are clear indicators of a neurological malady, in this case GFD."

"Although GFD affects different victims in different manners, one symptom remains consistent: the presence of complex and intricate paranoid delusions. In this man's case, these delusions manifested themselves by convincing their host that he was being pursued by operatives of the Kenyan government, and that his adversaries would seek to capture him by any means necessary. Needless to say, he didn't take kindly to the fact that you had photographed him without his consent, and he immediately assumed that you were in league with his African arch-nemeses. Unfortunately for you, Mr. Sullivan, his reaction to this situation was to pummel you into unconsciousness, and then to attempt to destroy your camera. Luckily, you mentally ill assailant was almost immediately apprehended by law enforcement officers. Oddly enough, several of them were of Kenyan descent; but I digress. At this point you were bleeding profusely, and your face had already began to swell to comic proportions. You were rushed to the hospital, where your condition was stabilized, and your relatives were contacted. You have suffered some sever injuries, and I'm afraid you will have to stay here for at least a week. After that, you will be forced to remain on a liquids only diet for some time, do you understand?" Mr. Sullivan groaned to indicate his comprehension. "Excellent," replied the doctor. She bent over the injured photographer to adjust his IV, and then turned to leave. As she reached the door, she hesitated, and added "If its any consolation, your camera was still running during your beating, providing the police with more than enough evidence to convict your assailant." She picked up some of the remaining photos, and placed them in the X-Ray viewer so that he could see. "Also, me and the girls down at the nursing station have been laughing at these the entire day. Good day Mr. Sullivan." The doctor exited the room, leaving the bewildered Mr. Sullivan in the able company of his feeding tube, the television, which was broadcasting tellenovellas at an uncomfortable volume, and his photographs.