As the blade sliced through her skin like a knife through warm butter, red pain seeped slowly from the small gash. She felt the cool hand of an invisible force press back against the flames of hell that threatened to engulf her. Take her and bury her in the dark depths of an unforgotten cavern where no one could reach her again.
She watched as the trickle of blood started to ooze down her wrist and pool in the palm of her hand before overflowing and dripping to the crisp, white carpet at her feet.
Sinking to the floor, she studied the cut while a losing battle raged behind her crystal blue eyes.
This cut, unlike the many before, would never close.
Deep and shallow cuts. Scars and fresh scabs. Wounds that had long ago damaged the porcelain skin, but never truly healed, disappeared beneath the scarlet essence of life flowing from her body.
He’d never change…
But she’d never again have to feel the agony from it.
Life changes. Life goes on.
Then you die.
Sounds like a whirlwind of scenes, essentially ending with a final chapter and the story of your life is over. Good, bad and indifferent.
Some scenes in my life thrill me, push me further and help me to thrive. Other scenes play out like a movie in my head that I can’t stop or even slow down. Every scene dims and eventually fades into the past.
As a writer, it excites me when I experience things in my life that parallel my stories. Because that’s all life really is, a screenplay of each individual experience. Different scenes, reactions, consequences…no one lives the same life. Every twist and turn in your plot, places you on an alternative path in your life and yet, in the end, we all greet death.
I suppose I’m not entirely sure where this post is going today. Just started typing. Perhaps it’s because my day to day life is a roller coaster of emotions and surrealism these days. One year ago, I wouldn’t have guessed I’d be here right now. Hell, 1 month ago, I didn’t see my life changing so much.
Busier than ever, more choices and decisions to be made and not entirely sure what direction I want to go with any of it. The one thing I do know, is writing still makes me happy.
I suspect it’s partially because I enjoy the activity, but the other part of it is escaping from my sudden bizarre life, to a truly fantasized one. To retreat into my own mind and block out the many distractions that seem to be flying at me with lightning speed. Only to swathe my fragile, near shattered psyche in a shroud of a world I can nurture, build and make my own private heaven.
Nothing can hurt me there, unless I wish it. Nothing can be “forever gone” there, unless I destroy it. My personal universe – I can control.
Until the end. Until death takes me.
Oh well, I guess there’s always the potential for a sequel. After all 50 Shades and Twilight did it.