H.P. Podcraft.com.

The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.

Red by Heather Kinky.

It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer

A colonial mansion a hereditary estate. I would say a haunted house and reach the height of romantic felicity, but that would be asking

too much of fate.

Still, I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it.

Else why should it be let so cheaply?

And why have stood so long untenanted?

John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.

John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith,

and an intense horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly at any talk of things

not to be felt and seen and put down in figures.

John is a physician, and perhaps I would not say it to a living soul of course but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind perhaps

that is one reason I do not get well faster. You see he does not believe I am sick

And what can one do if a physician of high standing in one's own husband assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression, a slight hysterical tendency.

What is one to do? hysterical tendency.

What is one to do?

My brother is also a physician and also of high standing.

He says the same thing.

So I take phosphates or phosphites, whichever it is, and tonics and journeys and air and exercise,

and am absolutely forbidden to work until I am well again.

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