by Jennifer Rotblatt
Edith closes her eyes tight, leaning against the tree, the sun on her face. The brightness and warmth are fuchsia, teal, marigold, and lime dancing behind her lids.
1 . . .
The colors speak of a dress she wore to Helen’s wedding. The layered skirt swinging as she danced to every song, sometimes alone, often with Paul.
2 . . .
They speak of warm spring evenings, Paul, and fresh-picked nosegays pressed into her hands.
3 . . .
Her hands reach back to hold the bark behind her at the fire of that first kiss.
4 . . .
Soon after, on a sunny day like this one, they peered through cracked glass into a long-abandoned shed in a forgotten meadow.
5 . . .
In this shed, on this day, he lay her down and removed all traces of girlhood. A bit of bark breaks in her hand.
6 . . .
Sweet Paul returned the next day to her door with hand-picked raspberries. They ate until their lips were stained in between kisses that left her raw.
7 . . .
The day she realized her monthly flow had not appeared, Edith walked alone to the shed. She heard a familiar sound.
8 . . .
The dirty, cracked panes could not disguise what she saw. She vomited in the grass and ran when she heard them call her name.
9 . . .
Months later, little Marie was born, bundle of joy to breath new life into a broken heart.
10 . . .
But that was years ago. Edith heard giggles and opened her eyes.
Ready or not, here I come.
6 comments:
Evocative and sexy. "A bit of bark breaks in her hand." Love that line.
Awesome!
Love it.
I love the simplicity of the way its written but nothing is simple about it. Instead you get the whole story in vivid detail in just a few lines. Nice job!
Intriguing layout, immensely beautiful.
I really like the layout, the way the story takes place inside the moment like that. It adds a nostalgic feeling.
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