"What she Never Knew"
Apr. 30th, 2010 06:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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writers_loftI can't recall if I've ever posted in writers_loft before so in case I haven't my name is Lydia, and I wanted to share some things with you guys to see what you think.
The first thing I want to share is a story that I haven't really gotten much feedback on in the past, and I'm hoping I can aquire some here. Thanks, everybody.
Date: Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Piece One:
As she looked out the window toward the horizon she thought about life. Filled with her own shame of having done what she did. In the beginning it hadn't been so bad, but now the thoughts and feelings haunted her into guilt. They floated in the air around her. They soaked into her pores. They weeded in and out of her mind and deteriorated her brain cells, little by little. They soared through the innards of her body, poisoning her vital organs, her muscles, her bones, her fat, her skin, HER BLOOD, making her reel with nausea she had never experienced before now, that came constantly without rest, and made her body ache of sores.
She wouldn't be able to stand it much longer, she knew. She was a goner.
Dead. Dying.
DONE.
Finished. Perished. Deceased. Erased. Forgotten. Passed. Extinct. Eliminated. Extinguished. Burnt out. Onto a better place. Kicked the bucket. The End of the Line. Mortal. A stiff. Useless. Pointless. Meaningless. Nothing.
She wouldn't last. She couldn't take it. She gave into her long ago murdered emotions. And yet all along, they had been revived, but buried, deep, hidden.
And her eyes betrayed her wants and perception because it took on a life of it's own and apparently felt her face was too dry. And they apparently felt she needed to burn, for she stared out the window as the sun kissed and burned her age-spotted, flappy skin and deeply evident wrinkles, like an old lover reunited, but long forgotten.
It had been so long. Without the bright, blinding, burn of the star, so dangerous to her health, she had become a ghost, without something or someone or somewhere to stalk and haunt, but being haunted herself.
As she looked out at the world, and the world looked back, she was finally able to let go. Escape.
Date: Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Piece Two:
She was found the next day. By the nurse. I know this because the nurse called me, just a name and phone number on some dead old woman's "in-case-of-emergency" list that had been stuck on the side of an old puke green fridge, with a large Mickey Mouse magnet from her childhood.
The nurse spoke to me with a thick southern accent. We're talking the deep south, here. The nurse, ILENE, she told me her name was, seemed to be in a state of extreme panic, I could tell by the tone of her voice and her rapid flow of words, so I figured I was probably one of the first people she had dialed. First subject and victim to this torture. ILENE's first words to me upon my answering the phone were, "She's passed."
I knew instantly to whom ILENE referred, for I had been well expecting this call for nearly a decade.
As soon as I heard her say those two long awaited words, I INSTANTLY knew she was in hell. It didn't even occur to me how religious I was or wasn't at that point of my life. But there was just no question in my mind. She was definitely in hell. That bitch made it there before me.
I let the nurse explain the situation, without interrupting her, even though I din't really care to know the details.
Inside, I felt both grief and envy of the woman who was the death of my mother.
She was, ILENE said, still and motionless. Her eyes, seemingly glassed over, had been staring purposely out of the window toward the sun, for the first time since Ilene had been hired to care for her. The nurse asked me of any thought or inkling of mine that might be an explanation for her last strange action in her fleeting life.
To this I replied, "I know not why she chose to sit before the window as she shut down, but if I had to take a guess," I told her, "I would assume she was trying to capture the last beautiful image she could find on this earth before her short journey to, and forever journey on/in the DEVIL'S Palace."
To this which she gasped on the other end of the phone (I imagined her covering her mouth with her hand.) and promptly hanging up.
["Good Day to you, as well," I say sarcastically to the droning dial tone, before I, too, slammed it down.]
Date: Saturday, February 21, 2009
Piece Three:
The year that my parents discovered I was gay was a very bad year for me. We're talkin' horrendous, here. So much happened in that year that would forever scar my life and penetrate deeply into my inner thoughts. That is a year I will never, ever forget.
At that time, lately I had been struggling with so many factors and aspects of my life that it was driving me crazy. Drugs and Alcohol addictions. Sexual orientation. Depression. Stress. Feelings of being dominated. Paranoia. Psychotherapy. Home life. Deaths.
Death is the one that usually sticks out the most to me.
The year that Death conquered my mother.
SHE took her from us. She made a promise. A threat. She hated her all along.
I was kept away from her, by my father, for he saw. My mother, on the other hand, was blinded by her front. My mother never saw it coming. The knife which belonged in HER hand and not in my mother's back.
My mother. Elizabeth.
My mother. My dear, poor, sweet, sick, gullible, stupid, selfish, blind-eyed, fart-brained, moron, idiotic, innocent, foolish, wasteful, conceited, self-centered, bitchy, trashy, kind, neighborly, motherly, loving, Lifeless mother.
She fell in so deep before any of us could try to pull her out, so we just let her fall. Oh, she fell alright. Straight to HER. Straight to her own damn doom. And there she stayed. And there she'll stay, for all eternity. Wherever MOTHER is, I hope she's happier.
By the way, this is just a brief preview/the first 3 "pieces". You can read more by clicking on What She Never Knew at this site: http://www.fictionpress.com/u/620361/Pimp_L or visit my livejournal page.
The first thing I want to share is a story that I haven't really gotten much feedback on in the past, and I'm hoping I can aquire some here. Thanks, everybody.
Date: Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Piece One:
As she looked out the window toward the horizon she thought about life. Filled with her own shame of having done what she did. In the beginning it hadn't been so bad, but now the thoughts and feelings haunted her into guilt. They floated in the air around her. They soaked into her pores. They weeded in and out of her mind and deteriorated her brain cells, little by little. They soared through the innards of her body, poisoning her vital organs, her muscles, her bones, her fat, her skin, HER BLOOD, making her reel with nausea she had never experienced before now, that came constantly without rest, and made her body ache of sores.
She wouldn't be able to stand it much longer, she knew. She was a goner.
Dead. Dying.
DONE.
Finished. Perished. Deceased. Erased. Forgotten. Passed. Extinct. Eliminated. Extinguished. Burnt out. Onto a better place. Kicked the bucket. The End of the Line. Mortal. A stiff. Useless. Pointless. Meaningless. Nothing.
She wouldn't last. She couldn't take it. She gave into her long ago murdered emotions. And yet all along, they had been revived, but buried, deep, hidden.
And her eyes betrayed her wants and perception because it took on a life of it's own and apparently felt her face was too dry. And they apparently felt she needed to burn, for she stared out the window as the sun kissed and burned her age-spotted, flappy skin and deeply evident wrinkles, like an old lover reunited, but long forgotten.
It had been so long. Without the bright, blinding, burn of the star, so dangerous to her health, she had become a ghost, without something or someone or somewhere to stalk and haunt, but being haunted herself.
As she looked out at the world, and the world looked back, she was finally able to let go. Escape.
Date: Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Piece Two:
She was found the next day. By the nurse. I know this because the nurse called me, just a name and phone number on some dead old woman's "in-case-of-emergency" list that had been stuck on the side of an old puke green fridge, with a large Mickey Mouse magnet from her childhood.
The nurse spoke to me with a thick southern accent. We're talking the deep south, here. The nurse, ILENE, she told me her name was, seemed to be in a state of extreme panic, I could tell by the tone of her voice and her rapid flow of words, so I figured I was probably one of the first people she had dialed. First subject and victim to this torture. ILENE's first words to me upon my answering the phone were, "She's passed."
I knew instantly to whom ILENE referred, for I had been well expecting this call for nearly a decade.
As soon as I heard her say those two long awaited words, I INSTANTLY knew she was in hell. It didn't even occur to me how religious I was or wasn't at that point of my life. But there was just no question in my mind. She was definitely in hell. That bitch made it there before me.
I let the nurse explain the situation, without interrupting her, even though I din't really care to know the details.
Inside, I felt both grief and envy of the woman who was the death of my mother.
She was, ILENE said, still and motionless. Her eyes, seemingly glassed over, had been staring purposely out of the window toward the sun, for the first time since Ilene had been hired to care for her. The nurse asked me of any thought or inkling of mine that might be an explanation for her last strange action in her fleeting life.
To this I replied, "I know not why she chose to sit before the window as she shut down, but if I had to take a guess," I told her, "I would assume she was trying to capture the last beautiful image she could find on this earth before her short journey to, and forever journey on/in the DEVIL'S Palace."
To this which she gasped on the other end of the phone (I imagined her covering her mouth with her hand.) and promptly hanging up.
["Good Day to you, as well," I say sarcastically to the droning dial tone, before I, too, slammed it down.]
Date: Saturday, February 21, 2009
Piece Three:
The year that my parents discovered I was gay was a very bad year for me. We're talkin' horrendous, here. So much happened in that year that would forever scar my life and penetrate deeply into my inner thoughts. That is a year I will never, ever forget.
At that time, lately I had been struggling with so many factors and aspects of my life that it was driving me crazy. Drugs and Alcohol addictions. Sexual orientation. Depression. Stress. Feelings of being dominated. Paranoia. Psychotherapy. Home life. Deaths.
Death is the one that usually sticks out the most to me.
The year that Death conquered my mother.
SHE took her from us. She made a promise. A threat. She hated her all along.
I was kept away from her, by my father, for he saw. My mother, on the other hand, was blinded by her front. My mother never saw it coming. The knife which belonged in HER hand and not in my mother's back.
My mother. Elizabeth.
My mother. My dear, poor, sweet, sick, gullible, stupid, selfish, blind-eyed, fart-brained, moron, idiotic, innocent, foolish, wasteful, conceited, self-centered, bitchy, trashy, kind, neighborly, motherly, loving, Lifeless mother.
She fell in so deep before any of us could try to pull her out, so we just let her fall. Oh, she fell alright. Straight to HER. Straight to her own damn doom. And there she stayed. And there she'll stay, for all eternity. Wherever MOTHER is, I hope she's happier.
By the way, this is just a brief preview/the first 3 "pieces". You can read more by clicking on What She Never Knew at this site: http://www.fictionpress.com/u/620361/Pimp_L or visit my livejournal page.
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