no1knows
The woman had a sultry look on her face as she lounged on the couch in a sheer nightgown. Her daughter had passed through the room several times now, trying not to take more than a glance at her mother. The girl had promised herself that this would be the last trip to the kitchen, scared of crossing paths with the man her mother was waiting for, but she was hungry.
He revved the engine again, as he thought it would be more impressive the second time, and winked. The girl in the red dress, however, was not to be moved. She simply stood on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the space behind him and ignoring his beckoning gestures.
She wished the wounds would disappear. She wished the steady stream of tears from her eyes could wash away the blood and heal the cuts and make all of the sadness drown at her feet. If only...
They didn't plan on catastrophe. I mean, who plans a catastrophe. I guess that's one of life's greatest questions, isn't it? Who plans our lives' twists and horrible, unpredictable tragedies which come so quickly and stay so long...
She stenciled his face in her mind, traced around the edges until she had a perfect silhouette, and then filled it in with black charcoal. As the details of real life faded, this became his image in her mind, a shadow of someone walking out the door.
I am not native to this pit of despair in which I dwell. I was once happy. Once upon a time, I ran free through the world of love and joy, not focusing on the darkness which clouded the edges of my picture perfect fantasy. But now the darkness is all I see, and it is here I dwell.
The disco ball hung above us, cold and metallic, spinning slowly and serenely over the sea of chaotic and sexual dancing going on far below it. The lights which careened off its mirrored surfaces neglected the dark places but the spherical moon itself saw me in the shadows.
She was beaming at me from across the room, her smile casting a friendly glow like a lighthouse, grinning at a passing ship and making their homecoming that much more beautiful. Because that's how I felt when I saw her. For the first time, I felt like I was coming home.
They ordered her execution. And when they could not kill her, they ordered her banishment. And when they could not bring themselves to make her leave, they ordered her to be raised up in the arms of the populace, the new queen of the land, past sins forgotten. The woman simply smiled at this, her mission complete.
I sat on the window sill and looked out at the dawn, the sun rising out of a blanket of mist just as you will rise out of the covers on the bed in a few hours, looking as delicate and bright as the morning sun and spreading your colours out into the world, filling me with the beauty of early morning all over again.
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writing since 2012 · 107 entries · 103 days shown up
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