She sat down, hot cup of coffee resting on the table beside her; on her left side where she could reach it easily without having to remove the pencil from her writing hand. She was made constantly aware; every time she extended her arm to reach for said cup; that her hand was lighter, duller; nothing that resembled the hand of a happily married woman. The ring that once nestled nicely upon her all important finger had yet to return to its home and she wasn't yet ready to give in.
In her heart she was not currently married, not to the man she once loved. She was married to a beast; and ogre that must have crept in in the middle of the night and consumed her husband completely to the core; bones and all. There was nothing left to identify, nothing left to grasp a hold of, nothing that resembled the man she once knew and loved.
The sun was beginning to shine through the curtains draped over the windows in the front room where she sat. It was dawn. The sky was glowing orange and blue and reflected the golden in her hair as her head hung down, hovered over pen and paper.
She couldn't resist getting all the thoughts that had been swirling about in her head. They danced to their own beat and made their own moves; swaying and sudden; sharp and stiff. She wanted to something to grab onto; something of substance; instead of the images and words that pranced around inside of her head and got twisted and tangled like swing dancers in a ballroom.
She tried to keep up, writing just as fast as she possibly could as to not miss anything- but the thoughts came sudden and they came hauling weight like a freight train making it's way down the tracks on a dark night, howling and screeching it's way along leaving a cloud of steam in its path. She could hear the rhythm they projected like poetry being read in some quaint basement bar in Greenwich Village by a punk rocker wannabe filled with hate and love that reminded her of a Picasso hanging on the wall; distorted yet direct.
She needed to get her views across to him. She needed to awaken the beast, look him dead in the eye and demand he cough up her husband. She was a slayer going to battle the dragon and she was fearless.
So she wrote. And she wrote. She wrote until her body ached from being in the erect posture for far too long. She dropped the pencil, shook out her hand, took a sip of her coffee; it was now cold and bitter at the bottom but she was far too occupied to think about retrieving another cup from the kitchen. She was lost in thought.
She picked up the pencil once more; running it through her fingers, feeling the heat it had procured in the moment; she took a quick glance out the window where the sun hung high in the sky, and she continued writing. The words filled the paper like the tension had filled the house in the past previous weeks and she wasn't stopping until every ounce of her goodness had been blasted onto the lines that lay before her.
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She didn't read over the material she had just finished. She didn't bother checking to make certain nothing was misspelled or if words had been left out during the rush. She was confident in her masterpiece; sharp like a knife and cold like his heart. She neatly folded the papers; the many papers; walked quietly upstairs and nestled them aside his reading book on the bedside table. He'd be certain to find them there. She wasn't certain the current creature would take her seriously but she had nothing to lose at this point and wasn't backing down any longer. Perhaps he could just get through them for some late night reading to rest his wicked mind and put him to sleep; where she currently liked him best.
All day, while raggedly running around the house; back and forth into the bedroom and back out again; there were the letters. She patiently awaited for his return home; to see the scribbled literature she had spent hours producing; to see his response. All the while, she prayed.
In her heart she was not currently married, not to the man she once loved. She was married to a beast; and ogre that must have crept in in the middle of the night and consumed her husband completely to the core; bones and all. There was nothing left to identify, nothing left to grasp a hold of, nothing that resembled the man she once knew and loved.
The sun was beginning to shine through the curtains draped over the windows in the front room where she sat. It was dawn. The sky was glowing orange and blue and reflected the golden in her hair as her head hung down, hovered over pen and paper.
She couldn't resist getting all the thoughts that had been swirling about in her head. They danced to their own beat and made their own moves; swaying and sudden; sharp and stiff. She wanted to something to grab onto; something of substance; instead of the images and words that pranced around inside of her head and got twisted and tangled like swing dancers in a ballroom.
She tried to keep up, writing just as fast as she possibly could as to not miss anything- but the thoughts came sudden and they came hauling weight like a freight train making it's way down the tracks on a dark night, howling and screeching it's way along leaving a cloud of steam in its path. She could hear the rhythm they projected like poetry being read in some quaint basement bar in Greenwich Village by a punk rocker wannabe filled with hate and love that reminded her of a Picasso hanging on the wall; distorted yet direct.
She needed to get her views across to him. She needed to awaken the beast, look him dead in the eye and demand he cough up her husband. She was a slayer going to battle the dragon and she was fearless.
So she wrote. And she wrote. She wrote until her body ached from being in the erect posture for far too long. She dropped the pencil, shook out her hand, took a sip of her coffee; it was now cold and bitter at the bottom but she was far too occupied to think about retrieving another cup from the kitchen. She was lost in thought.
She picked up the pencil once more; running it through her fingers, feeling the heat it had procured in the moment; she took a quick glance out the window where the sun hung high in the sky, and she continued writing. The words filled the paper like the tension had filled the house in the past previous weeks and she wasn't stopping until every ounce of her goodness had been blasted onto the lines that lay before her.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She didn't read over the material she had just finished. She didn't bother checking to make certain nothing was misspelled or if words had been left out during the rush. She was confident in her masterpiece; sharp like a knife and cold like his heart. She neatly folded the papers; the many papers; walked quietly upstairs and nestled them aside his reading book on the bedside table. He'd be certain to find them there. She wasn't certain the current creature would take her seriously but she had nothing to lose at this point and wasn't backing down any longer. Perhaps he could just get through them for some late night reading to rest his wicked mind and put him to sleep; where she currently liked him best.
All day, while raggedly running around the house; back and forth into the bedroom and back out again; there were the letters. She patiently awaited for his return home; to see the scribbled literature she had spent hours producing; to see his response. All the while, she prayed.
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