Bonnie Parker: "Poetry From Life's Other Side"
On April 19, 1932 in Kaufman, TX, Bonnie was arrested for the first and only time after a failed hardware store robbery. The gang (Clyde, Bonnie, and Ralph Fults) were hiding out on the banks of a creek where they found themselves surrounded by a team of Kaufman police officers. A shootout immediately ensued, wounding Ralph in the arm and then surrendering himself during gun battle once caught trying to crawl away into the woods. Clyde wasn't taking any chances and managed to escape on foot, leaving the frightened Bonnie behind. Ralph and Bonnie were detained in a small, one room, dirt floor jail, "The Kemp Calaboose", which still stands today as a roadside attraction in Kemp, TX.
The pair arrived with their clothes covered in mud and Bonnie was reportedly smoking cigarette after cigarette while being questioned. Neither gave out their real names and used aliases. Bonnie's was "Betty Thornton". In the end, Bonnie spent 2 months at the Kaufman County jail after the jury failed to indict her. Therefore, no mugshot of Bonnie exists.
With little to do other than pine for Clyde and chat with her jailer, it's no surprise Bonnie's fertile imagination turned to poetry. Inside her black leatherette first national bank book, or rather what she officially titled as "Poetry From Life's Other Side", are a total of ten handwritten poems. Out of the ten poems, five appear to be original compositions, largely drawn from her adventurous life on the road with The Barrow Gang, taking on gangster girl alter egos, her devotion to Clyde, and marriage to husband Roy Thornton.
The ten poems in the order she chose to write them are:"The Story Of Suicide Sal" (original), "The Prostitute's Convention" (original), "The Fate Of Tiger Rose" (original), "I'll Stay" (original), "From Shadow Sun" (copied), "Bravery" (original), "The Hobo's Last Ride" (copied), "The Girl With The Blue Velvet Band" (copied), "When!!" (copied), and "People Will Talk" (copied).
Bonnie's other famous poems were written while on the run over the years.
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SPN AU Bingo
Title: The Caged Hunter (working title)
Square Filled: MentalHospital! AU
Ship: Unrelated/Wincest
Rating: this chapter is rated t, but if I decide to pursue the rest of the story it will go up to M
Tags: Mental Hospital AU, Mental Patient!Dean, Psychiatrist!Sam, semi-slow burn, slow descent into obsession,
Word Count: 1408
Summary: The working summary is after 13 years on what has been deemed a religion spurred murder spree, Dean Winchester aka The Hunter has been caught by local authorities and sentenced to forty years in a psychiatric facility with one Sam Wesson as his doctor. As Sam tries to figure out how and why Dean was finally caught he finds himself starting to fight feelings he shouldn’t have.
Written for @spnaubingo
The Hunter: Caged
“What’s this?”
Sam dropped the file in his hand onto the desk. It was stuck out like a sore thumb on the dark wood of his boss’s desk.
“It is a new patient,” the older man answered. “I thought you might be interested.”
“I’ve already got my hands full with the other fifteen patients, and three group therapy’s a day you give me,” Sam told him. “I’ve my hands full Zachariah. You can not just spring a new patient on me like that.”
“Did you even look at the file Samuel?” Zachariah asked.
“It’s Sam,” he corrected. But he picked up the file and opened it to the first page. He leaned against the armrest of one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. He scanned the mugshot presented to him.
The Hunter aka Dean Winchester.
“He was caught?” Sam asked.
“Caught, confessed, interrogated, tried and convicted to forty years in our lovely establishment,” the man spread his arms wide with a half smirk half smile combination. “Consider this, an early birthday presents of sorts.”
Sam snorted a little. “My birthday isn’t until May.”
“If you’re really that overwhelmed with patients, I’m sure I could pass it off to…” Zachariah tapped his fingers together in thought, “Masters? I’m sure she’d be interested.”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Sam closed the file.
“Excellent. I’ve your first appointment scheduled for this afternoon, afterward, you can set a time that works for you,” Zechariah told him. “You’re welcome, Sam.”
Sam tried not to roll his eyes and walked out of the office and back to his own. He sat back his desk and opened the folder for a second time.
“Why on earth would you let yourself get caught?” Sam thought out loud. “Thirteen years, and not one slip up until now.” He unclipped the mugshot photo and held it up as he leaned back in his chair. “What goes on in your head Dean Winchester?”
Sam stood up from his chair as one of the orderlies led Dean Winchester into his office. He looked...small in person. Pale skin, dirty blond hair, bright green eyes. They were unfocused as they looked at Sam’s and he gave him a lopsided smile.
“What’s up doc,” he greeted.
“That’ll be all,” Sam told the orderly.
“Sir I don’t-”
“With the amount of drugs pumped into his system, I highly doubt he’d be able to stab me with a pen,” Sam interrupted gently. Not that he would. Not his nature.
The orderly looked reluctant but left the room and shut the door with a soft click. Dean remained standing. He swayed on his feet and as he looked around the room. His eyes returned to Sam multiple times in the span of five minutes.
“Are you thirsty Dean?” Sam asked. “Do you want something to drink?”
“I ain’t that easy tiger,” Dean flashed him a lazy smile. “But I’ll take a coke if you’re offering.”
“Coke,” Sam let out a small chuckle as he walked over to the minif ridge behind his desk and grabbed two cokes. He set one both can’s on the coffee table between them. “You can have a seat you know. The couch won’t bite.”
Dean sat down and crossed his legs under him. Sam sat in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and balanced his notebook in his lap. He watched Dean reach forward, and open both cans. He nudged the second towards Sam.
“You didn’t have to open that for me,” Sam told him.
Dean shrugged. “I wanted too…” he picked up his own can and took a sip. He exhaled slowly and burped and grinned a little. “That’s how you know it’s crisp.”
“Really? I Never knew that,” Sam said.
Dean set the can back on the table. “So you’re a head doctor?”
“Psychiatrist, but yes,” Sam answered. “And you are The Hunter.”
Dean smiled. “You heard of me?”
“Ever since Blackwater Ridge. Impersonated a wildlife and preservation Agent, group of dead campers, body found in an abandoned underground mine,” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Charred to a crisp.”
“How old were you?” Dean titled his head to the side.
“Pardon?” Sam tried not to look confused.
“How old were you? When you became my fan?” Dean smiled.
“I...22…” Sam answered. “I was 22.”
“You were 22,” Dean repeated. “Bet you were cute at 22 right? Baby faced maybe? Dimples. I bet you’ve got dimples. And those bodies. Wasn’t me.”
“It wasn’t?” Sam asked.
“Nope,” Dean answered. He popped the P and leaned back on the couch. “It was a Wendigo.”
“A wendigo?” Sam repeated. “What is a wendigo?”
“They feed on human flesh. Nasty things, only fire will kill them,” Dean answered. “My dad sent me there to kill it. That’s what we do. My dad and I. We hunt monsters...well...we used to hunt monsters.”
“Monsters? Plural?” Sam uncrossed his arms and leaned forward a little. “What kind of monsters Dean?”
Dean nodded and Sam watched his eyes brighten. “Monsters...wendigo’s, demons, angels, witches, witches are the worst, they like to spew their bodily fluids every. It’s disgusting-”
“Angels?” Sam interrupted. “I didn’t realize angels are monsters.”
“Not all of them,” Dean replied. “My friend Castiel, he’s one of the good guys you know? Well, he tries to be, but really they’re all just dicks with wings.”
Sam couldn’t stop the laugh even if he wanted to. Dean blinked and suddenly leaned forward, knees braced on the coffee table as he poked Sam’s cheek.
“I knew it.” His breath smelled like Coca Cola. “Dimples.”
He was back on the couch just as quickly as he’d been in front of Sam. Legs tucked under him, soda can in his lap. Sam tapped his pen against the notebook.
“I’m not crazy you know,” Dean said. He was still smiling, but he sounded defeated. “The last head doctor. He told my lawyer to make me sound crazy...talk about my dad...make it sound like I’m a victim and that he brainwashed me. But he didn’t. We saved people Sammy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy Dean,” Sam said after a moment.
“You don’t?” Dean’s smile widened and Sam shook his head.
“I think…” Sam stopped tapping his pen, “you hunt monsters.”
Dean nodded. “Yes.”
“Could you tell me about them?” Sam asked. “These angels and demons of yours. How do you tell when someone’s an angel? Or if they’re a demon?” Sam asked.
“Demons have black eyes,” Dean answered. “All black. And they’ll flinch if you say, Cristo. It’s Christ in Latin. Holy water works too.”
“Holy water?” Sam asked.
“Water that’s been blessed,” Dean answered. “Burns their skin. The pilot on that plane, he was a demon.”
“Was he?” Sam asked.
Dean nodded. “Couldn’t let him kill all those people. And, you know he didn’t die.”
“What about angels?” Sam asked.
“Angels are harder,” Dean answered. “I mean, they don’t really have any tells you know. But I’m mean they’re supposed to be nice guys you know. They can’t possess humans without their consent. Usually, people who pray to them.”
“Who is Castiel possessing?” Sam asked.
“Well, he’s not...possessing anyone anymore,” Dean answered. “See, the guy he was possessing was this wholesome family guy James Novak. Nice guy too. But he prays for something better and Castiel comes along...he’s not a real people person though. Rough around the edges, but he’s a nice guy once you get to know him.”
“What happened to James, Dean?” Sam asked.
Dean's lips twitched as he smiled. “James Dean is a cool guy. Rebel Without of Cause was a great film. Do you like movies?”
“I’d like to talk about your friend Castiel,” Sam answered.
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore...he pissed me off,” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.
“Why’d he piss you off?” Sam asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean answered. “Can we stop talking about it?” He rubbed his arms and Sam watched the skin turn pink under the action.
“Alright. We can pick this up again tomorrow,” Sam nodded. He closed the notebook and set it aside.
“You didn’t drink your soda?” Dean frowned as he stood up.
“Wasn’t thirsty,” Sam answered.
“Oh…” Dean nodded a little.
“You can have it if you’d like,” Sam told him.
“No, that’s okay,” Dean smiled again. “You might get thirsty later.”
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