by Molly O’Connor
The hard rough edge of the chalet’s wooden door frame went unnoticed. It scraped along her spine as she slumped to the ground—pampered and tanned legs against grey granite. Diamonds sparkled at her wrist, her toenails glared scarlet. With knees drawn tight to her chest she released a long sigh in the late morning stillness.
A hawk struck, lifted its catch and disappeared beyond a mountain stream. Sun-streaked water played hide-and-seek through pinion pine then emerged as a silver ribbon far below Elysia. Her dark hollow eyes followed. A transient breeze lifted wispy fabric and carried her thoughts to distant places.
On a Parisian runway, trailing a chinchilla stole, Elysia stopped abruptly, turned sharply on 5-inch heels, flung the delicate fur around her shoulders; then letting the stole slip inch by seductive inch, stopped it just short of her rear cleavage. The Versace gown, shimmering lime and fluid gold, flowed over flawless skin and slim hips ending abruptly at a 10-carat diamond suspended at her ankle. Approval exploded in her ears; she flashed a brilliant smile . . .
Away from the mountain Elysia lived fast, on the designer ramps and on the streets. Her classic BMW was carried away, as was Elysia. Constructive surgery failed to repair her torn cheek and shattered chin; life on the runway extinguished in a fleeting moment of twisted steel.
A curtain of silken black hair fell forward; she lifted her manicured hand, closed her scarred mouth around the barrel and closed her eyes.
1 comment:
Powerful. I was a little lost in following the thread, but the overall mpact was strong and deep. By the time I got to the end, I understood what was going on. Nicely done.
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