The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Just a Spoonful of Sugar
by Kendra Smart
The world felt so big now, every single action, gesture, became wrought with friction and meaning. Nothing felt light in this frame of space. Time wasn’t slow or fast, it went as it willed and passed in whichever was the most excruciating way with which to proceed forward.
The feeling of forever, being forever endless. A lost wanderer without a course or a choice. A purpose long lost, and only the agonizing hope, that by somehow moving forward the sinking feeling would just let go. Let loose a few threads and somehow feel lighter and lesser. Less constraining and constricting, in some way easier to carry. Just lesser.
There were passing thoughts of lighter loads and lesser pains but in this realm, none of those moments were relevant. None of that had served to prepare for this feeling. There was a prayer for numbness, for the stripping of any feeling. A true moment of desperation. The clawing, tingling, static driven rat race that had become the wargrounds of her mental space.
There was no telling what time had passed and even clocks and calendars, alarms and lists, appointments or work…what did any of that mean? What did anything mean? What was the point of this endless noise? The utter continuous nature of scatter and clutter, chaos and eerie calm.
The sun will come out tomorrow, oh wait a forecast featuring an overcast provided by the universe that kept relentlessly pounding in how hard and painful life could be.
But life is pain…isn’t princess?
Well where was the comely and dandy salesman knocking on her door ready to sell her his wares with that snake oil grin and that guarantee for her socks to be knocked off.
She would willingly listen to any bargaining price…just for this to end.
All of the allegories, nursery rhymes, legends, myths, folk lore, campfire stories, all held their own truths and yet there were no adequate words that could have served as warning.
So much dark from light.
This purgatory felt as futile as a duel with Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid, in a multitude of outcomes and variables..the story ended the same.
But the point was that, just that, that there was an ending.
But her lover was Death, and his anger felt cold as the ice that bites past the numbness that the chill mercifully brings. The endless years of just existing were filled with enough pressure that ten healthy lungs could not have withstood the weight.
An asphyxiation of the heart, the metaphysical involuntary morphing of the soul. A direct reasoning behind the changing at the core level…at a factitious rate and in the most grievous manner.
A refusal to her many overtures and invitations to dance, to apologize and come together, he had relinquished her of his time, eliminating her from his visage…from his whole being.
Strange thing it is to exist…how do we know we do? If it is like the Sages say, then it is our lineage, it is our legend, our legacy, our family lines, the word of our deeds carried on and through some means…tangible or not.
But what if none of those things are there? What if the only person who knows your story is you?
Do you exist if you are the only one aware?
On and on, forward motion.
E Tu, Mio Amore…
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Fiction © Copyright Kendra Smart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from author Kendra Smart:
Just Emotions:
A Gothic Bite Magazine Anthology
A collection of poetry.
‘Just Emotions‘ is exactly as it states, a group of writers who had feelings they wanted to express in poem form. Inside, there are a range of emotions to explore. Each writer has given a bit of themselves to you, each in their own way.
We hope that you enjoy these writings and that among the poems you may find some thing you can identify with or relate to. Thank you for giving us this chance to open the catacombs and share with you.
