30 Days of Writing: Day Four

Day 4.

She lifted her head slowly from the cold metal table. She stood up, stumbling slightly as she tried to comprehend the sterile room. She found a mirror above a steel sink. Touching the face in the mirror with one hand and her own flesh with the other she examined every bump and curve of her pale face. She tugged at her cheeks and she curled her dirty blonde hair around her finger. She pried her eyelids further open, she leaned in close to see her dark green eyes. That’s when she noticed her hands. They had a slight shake, they were obviously worn and rough. On one finger the imprint and discoloration from a former ring screamed for attention.

She stepped back to see her form more clearly.

She was wearing a hospital gown. She took comfort in the floral designs. The tie in the back of the gown was undone. She allowed her shoulders to sag with her arms at her side. The gown slid to the floor, falling gently over her bare feet.

She took one more step back. A smile sprung across her lips and a chuckle burst forth like a geyser as she quickly spun in a complete circle. She stopped.

She looked in the mirror again. She had to pull back matted hair to see clearly. Her chest moved slowly up and down as her simple glee became mixed with volatile emotion. Tears welled. Her hands shook faster. She saw the scars.

The strangle marks around her neck, her wrists, her legs. Like fire hot chains had been tied across her form. She hugged herself. Tight and tighter still. Her legs were trembling, so she sunk to the floor and released the ocean inside.

Eventually she stopped long enough to feel a breeze kiss her burdened skin. Across the room a window was open. She rose and looked out the window. The sun reminded her to smile again.

As the wind blew over her she heard the breeze whisper in her ear. She heard the breeze like healing.

She looked out at the horizon and thought, Jocelyn. You are no longer dead. You are more alive than ever...

…She stood from her pew and walked out into the wild world. Scars worn like armor. Again she felt the breeze, it was speaking. All she heard was healing.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s