| Red Lines to Nowhere (Microfiction) *This was a class assignment in Creative Writing to write a story with no more than 250 words.* Good morning was an oxymoron in her house and today was just another example. The constant nagging at home, the way she felt transparent, how people seemed to listen but never heard a word�she knew she was slipping. There was a tranquil silence in the woods. She sat in the clearing and tried to slow her panting down from running to normal breathing. Out here she could do it; out here now one would know. The circle of trees would never tell. They knew how to keep a secret. She closed her eyes and drew the line. She did it so often now she had become numb to it. No pain registered anymore. Immediately the flood of release washed over and her muscles relaxed. Everything slowly drifted from her and all that was left was herself and the trees. This was the only way of cleansing; talking it out never worked and crying had never been her thing. At least this way, she could still know she was alive. The red washed everything out of her system and she was left empty, but a little bit happier. Another line here, one more there and she had a perfect picture of mutilated anatomy. She was done for the day after a little pressure and her sleeve pulled down. But she�d be back. This was her personal addiction and the trees didn�t begrudge her that. October 9, 2002 |
 |