A Little Madness

We might have noticed Elizabeth going mad but for the fact that she was distinctly odd to begin with. No one was sure exactly how old she was, just that she'd been around for as long as any of us could remember. She lived alone in a shack just past the old breakwater and she came and went
at odd hours of the day and night, a small, crooked figure with yards of white hair and a pronounced limp. She was a collector - twigs, shells, discarded plastic wrapping, string, pebbles, empty pop bottles - it was all placed carefully into the basket she carried over one scrawny arm and then covered with a raggedy red checkered napkin. She was nearly toothless and her skin appeared to have been thrown onto her but not fastened. As a general rule, she only wore one shoe - whether it caused or compensated for the limp, no one seemed to know. She had fiercely bright blue eyes,
wickedly unnerving in her haggard, white as death old face and her chin whiskers had grown out a half inch or so. If she had chosen to wear black, she would've made a classic and unforgettable witch.

She seldom spoke as she made her rounds, preferring the company of whatever went on her mind to actual people, but she smiled often, cocking her head with an open mouthed, gum displaying grin. People gave her spare change, candy, bits of kelp or dried fish, a Jersey Milk bar. She would nod her thanks and carefully stow each treasure in her basket then continue on her way. She ate quite a bit of grass and often would have green stains on her chin and fingers and I used to see her frequently on the beach, kneeling in the incoming tide and drinking salt water from her cupped hands only to vomit it back up a few minutes later. She didn't seem to mind.

She was a cheerful, old eccentric - the product of an incestuous union between her mother and brother, people speculated, both of whom were products of older such incestuous unions and as she was harmless and not likely to procreate herself, she was mostly overlooked and left to her own devices. Neither she nor her brother Willie were a threat and most of the time they weren't even considered nuisances. A little madness was considered routine and they were cared for and watched over by everyone. In the winter, Nana said, she moved in with Willie - she had once set a fire on the floor of her own shack and nearly burned it to the ground.

She went round the bend the summer I was thirteen. One of the Sullivan boys had come upon her on his way home from the factory, half naked and blue with cold, walking out into the passage on a pair of stilts. She was carrying her basket in her teeth and singing and the waves took her under three times before he could get to her. The next day she walked to the edge of the breakwater, opened an umbrella and before anyone could stop her, jumped. She survived but had broken both legs and was taken to the mainland hospital for recovery and would never return. Madness had overtaken the little old woman at last and some said she'd recognized it, seen it coming but wasn't strong enough to outrun it.