Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Memory, Love, and White Walls
This is posted for the meme at It’s Thursday. This short story is a bit emotional and raw but the image moved me to write this way.
The walls were white, Lori observed. Her husband had been vacant and blank like them. His eyes were glazed over in a darkened spell. Depression clung to the walls of the naked room.
Lori was fed up with him. The husband with dead eyes. The husband with cold lips. There he lay rotting away in his mind.
She let the memories of him possess her. His hot love withering in the winter of their marriage. His taunt muscles plucked at the bone. His countenance shattered like glass on the floor. Lori tried to glue together pieces of him, to resurrect him from his bed of misery.
The bills mounted. Life had choked up their dreams. Lori flattened her body against the walls. Those cold bare walls…
“I’m going to make you beautiful,” she whispered. She splattered red paint against the walls in confusion and madness. Her palms landed against them harder and harder. She couldn’t stop kicking and screaming.
Red paint now washed over her skin. She was bleeding on the inside, feeling her heart explode and sink into darkness.
Then two arms seized her from behind. Lori froze as she felt his strong heartbeat against her back. His body moved with heat like a slow, crackling fire. He spun her around and studied her dark eyes soften in his. Tears rained down as she spoke.
“You were asleep so long. I thought I had lost you,” Lori whispered. His skin felt like clay in her hands. He could be loved and molded again.
“Baby, I know,” he answered. They bended to the silence and held each other till the walls crumbled and the sunlight danced across their bodies.