Friday, January 20, 2017

A story

Another one of my really old writings...

A newborn cries at top of his lungs as the new mother places him on her relieved stomach.  Strange faces smile down upon him causing more tears of confusion.  A nurse loses consciousness and is quickly carried out of sight.  Her heart stops beating at the same time his last tear dries up.
            A little girl looks up into the sky with innocent eyes full of hope that an angel will come down and save her.  An old woman curses the bitterness inside her wrinkled body.  There is no one to blame.
            Virgin or not, she’s still the same sensitive fool.  I’m not a whore, mom.  I AM NOT A WHORE!  A blue eyed boy looks up at the stars and sighs with longing.  Nostalgia takes over her and she reads letters of the past.  Yellowish paper and faded ink become a big blur in her teary eyes.
            A twelve-year-old girl bids a tearful good-bye to her friends and leaves for a strange new city.  Skyscrapers and traffic scare her unadjusted soul. Language not yet mastered sounds monstrous.  “ We are the world” plays in the background as she writes her final words.
            The fight leaves her guilty once again.  3:1 is the latest score.  A tiny person stands in the middle of the room and looks up at giants ready to stomp her into a stain on the floor. Windex takes care of all stains.
             An old man lives in the days of glory.   The bomb drops down on the destined city below.  The pilot smiles and turns the plane around.  Sudden gunfire is an unwelcome surprise and the plane goes up in smoke.  “ We’ve lost him, doctor.”
             Cherry-red curls frame her thin face, giving her brown eyes an exaggerated appearance of innocence and laughter.  Her pouty lips are blood red, especially when covered by a thick coat of cherry flavored lip-gloss.
            His boyish smile and light touch send tiny lightning bolts down her spine.  Each and every kiss leaves her breathless and yearning for more.  Smoke circles its way to the top of the ceiling as the no longer virgin watches her partner exit the room.  She slips into her red dress and closes the door, leaving behind her innocence.
            A mother cries for her lost daughter.  A father cries for lost power.  A daughter cries because she is dead.
            Blue eyes stare at her in the dark.  The stained ceiling of the cheap motel stares at her naked body nomatter how deep she buries herself under the covers.
            The cradle is empty.  A baby cries for his mother in a stranger’s arms.  A girl sits in a corner singing a lullaby to a picture.
            Cold water runs down her naked body, washing away tears of anger and regret.  Semen cannot be washed out with water.  Dark stains can be taken care of with Clorox.  Pills take their effect at night and she drifts into the land of dreams.

            Darkness surrounds her as she tries to pull on her pants.  Her giggling comes to a sudden stop when her mother’s face flashes in front of hers.  Not a whore, mom.  Not a whore.

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