A platinum moon lowers into a lavender sky. Clouds stretch like cotton balls, swooping, swirling -spiraling downward into fog. The fog plays hide and seek with her bare feet upon a narrow brick road. As the fog creeps away, the bricks unfurl before her like a red carpet down a church aisle. Only, the bricks are black as tar, and Loreli knows this is no wedding.
Balancing like a tight rope walker, she is not deceived. For it is not a narrow road she treads, but the top of a thick wall. An ancient wall built up out of nowhere, in reserve for those who attempt its path.
Heat flames up from the dark side of the wall, cradling sweat droplets as they fall from her outstretched arms. Loreli imagines, knows, that they are down there, down there where the black spirals sharp and steep, where the dead dream - waiting, waiting for that misstep, the fall.
Chest heaving, swallowing hard, she takes the next step forward, and then another.One glance to either side can break concentration. Her eyes avoid flicking toward the gray side, her own grim reality where nothing makes sense and life totals up to disappointments and pain, pin pokes and bee stings, and dead fetuses…How many had she produced? How many tiny lives had her body failed to nurture?
Thinking, all this thinking, makes Loreli tremble and shiver. She cries out as she stumbles forward, leaning to the right to over correct, but it’s too late- her left foot falls over the dark edge. A searing heat licks her bare foot, tasting her.
No!
Her right knee slams into the bricks and she grabs on to the rough surface, catching herself. She kneels there, feeling the seductive heat from the dark lure it’s lies of peace.
Breathe, breathe. I need to stay, I need to stay. I can do this.
Pushing her self up, she turns her back on the black, and slips her legs over the gray side, the side that is her life. Loreli watches her husband and the pale body that lays beside him.
Brian lies on his side, a white cotton pillow bunched under his head. His arm stretches over the white sheets as if reaching out for something, or someone. His breath falls steady upon the quiet, like some jazzy rhythm.
Behind the muscled arc of his back is a woman. Gray highlights nestle in dark, crumply hair. Tiny crows feet dig deep around puffy eyes.
My puffy eyes, Loreli thinks.
The woman’s arms, clad in a sad, blue nightgown, hug her body close, seeking comfort. Loreli hugs herself, mimicking the woman, and shivers.
The woman moans and shifts. The soft glow of the night light illumines half her face; night steals the other half.
How true, Loreli thinks, how true this.
A well known ache fills her heart, and she knows it’s time to press on. A sweltering breeze from the dark side climbs like ivy up her spine and fills her nostrils with the scent of seared flesh and unkempt bodies. Gagging, she places her feet upon the wall and stretches into an upright position. Breathing deeply, she looks once more at Brian, watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and wonders at the ignorance of such peaceful rest; wonders at her heart, numb, but not without love.
“Will you miss me when I’m gone?” she whispers.
One day, she thinks, one day, I will slip, I will fall, down where the dead dream and the worms crawl. Where they wait.
The crumpled shell of her body may still lie, day in and day out, on the clean white sheets, but she, Loreli, will be gone.
Until then, she will walk the wall. She will stay as long as she can. She looks ahead into the bleakness and fog, holds her arms out for balance, and places one foot in front of the other, takes a step, and then another, and another.
©2009 Jodi MacArthur
Exiled in deep southern Texas, Jodi MacArthur is a Seattle author hoping to write her way back to the Pacific Northwest. In her spare time, she twitters at her beloved finches, Hitchcock and Emily, and drinks coffee - but never at the same time. Her work has been published at Six Sentences, 6sV2 Anthology, Absent Willow Review, Ray Gun Revival, Outsider Writers Collective and will be forthcoming in Harbinger*33 Anthology (Date TBA), and Yellow Mama (Oct & Dec ‘09). Website: www.jodimacarthur.blogspot.com
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September 21st, 2009 at 2:36 am
Poor Loreli! Doomed to tread such a lonely, scary path with no hope in sight, a perfect metaphor for her loveless, barren life.
September 21st, 2009 at 3:41 am
great piece jodi. super mood and deft touch with your lush descriptors.
September 21st, 2009 at 3:41 am
‘A platinum moon lowers into a lavender sky. Clouds stretch like cotton balls, swooping, swirling -spiraling downward into fog. The fog plays hide and seek with her bare feet upon a narrow brick road. As the fog creeps away, the bricks unfurl before her like a red carpet down a church aisle. Only, the bricks are black as tar, and Loreli knows this is no wedding.’ How fantastic that is. And then…great, great story.
September 21st, 2009 at 5:03 am
Brilliant story yet again Jodi. Your descriptions brought the piece to life and you did a fantastic job in getting your protagonists emotions across.
I get the feeling that this story will play on my mind for a good few days. Well done!
September 21st, 2009 at 6:17 am
I feel so bad for Loreli, but so good for you, Lori. You’ve created another killer story. Now go get started on another, and another.
September 21st, 2009 at 7:27 am
I had to read this one twice, just because. Such a rich atmosphere. Your description is exquisite.
September 21st, 2009 at 7:32 am
Wow! That was one helluva story. So sad yet so beautiful. I’ve tried for years to describe depression; never could I have done such a wonderful job. Fantastic!
September 21st, 2009 at 8:30 am
Wow, excellent story, Jodi… beautiful descriptions… I can’t wait to read more from you!
September 21st, 2009 at 10:28 am
Great story, Jodi! Your imagery had me walking the wall with her.
September 21st, 2009 at 10:58 am
Lush writing. Beautifully done!
September 21st, 2009 at 12:02 pm
Another fantastic piece Jodi! Keep on rolling! H
September 21st, 2009 at 12:35 pm
I love stories that speak of a journey darkened by the unknown, pain, and sacrifice and this one of those tales I find myself absorbed in. Nicely done, Jodi.
September 21st, 2009 at 2:23 pm
Thank you so much all of you. Glad the piece touched you as it did me as I wrote it.
@Paul - you have no idea how many rewrites that first paragraph went through. Seriously, about 13 or so. I was so determined to paint the perfect setting for the reader. It paid off - I’m so glad you liked it!
September 21st, 2009 at 3:08 pm
beautiful… a nicely woven look at our own fear… the vulnerability so many of us have. her ‘mimicking’ the woman she claims as herself… her heart ‘numb, but not without love’… so many beautiful words. it simply pulls you in… awesome work! thanx for sharing!!
September 22nd, 2009 at 8:25 am
Holy description, Batman! Very vivid, lively piece. Love the use of color throughout the story.
September 23rd, 2009 at 12:58 pm
Just like Laurita, I read this twice. I am constantly amazed by your ability to draw out emotions from even the darkest parts of our lives, and those of your characters. A superb piece, Jodi.