Pulling the device out of her pocket, she began to type furiously.
He shook his head. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, call Bob?”
“Oh that would be inconvenient. Also, he prefers texts.” She hit the send icon.
Not believing what he was seeing he started to say, “But wouldn’t it be faster to”
Except she interrupted him with a finger to his lips. “I never use this as a…”
Couldn’t even think about using plastic.
And bartering would get him thrown out of the joint.
So he took out his wallet and began pulling out fives.
Hoping he had brought enough to make it rain.
Living day to day, depending on his luck for sustenance
Orbiting his need for money and his need to be creative
The two pulling in opposite directions, their tidal forces ripping him apart
Today was a day where art and hunger went hand in hand as he painted
Every ounce of his imagination was placed on the canvas stroke by stroke
Revealing a mixture of magic and his soul, bound in sweat and paint
Yet it didn’t sell, leaving him destitute and feeling like he lost at life
Carnage had been prophesied since the day of her birth
Obliterate the evil, or else she would fail, and the world would burn
Many people tried to guide her, their interests, they felt, were the same as hers
Pulling her six different ways at once, she ended up pitting them against each other
Letting their division give her the room to find her own way
Everything was going well. The darkness was beaten back.
The final battle took place, and in the end, she was victorious
Everyone’s cheers turned to screams when she didn’t stop and began attacking them
Old things had to make way for the new
Pulling back on the lever, the wrecking ball swung and smashed into the wall
Everywhere the ball hit, destruction reigned
Reducing the old structure into historic rubble
And she knew she was good at what she was doing
The crane danced to her choreography, each pirouette punctuated by the boom of connection
Enabling her to place the final period to that building’s story
Focusing on her reflection in the mirror
Rachel wondered how she could go on
After everything she’d been through, there was so little left
Glass was far more robust than her current mental state
It felt like at any moment she would shatter into a million pieces
Leaving emotional shards across the floor
Except that’s when her son came by and gave her a hug, pulling her back together.
Systematic suturing of her emotional wounds
The pain of sewing the gash to her psyche was almost unbearable
It continued to throb years later, but the echoes of the horrific laceration kept getting weaker
They left the itch of wanting to see if she had healed enough yet
Cutting loose and pulling out each piece of mental floss
Her battle scar, now exposed, made her proud of not only surviving but healing
Weaving her way along the internet
Entombing data to feast on later
Behaving like she is pulling the strings
She cuddled up to him under the covers
Pulling her body along his to get warm
Outside the wind blew and the cold rain fell
Outside the chaos of jobs and bills demanded attention and yet…
None of that mattered. They were together in that moment
So you feel like you’re going to go under
Icy hands of doubt and self-loathing pulling you down into your personal abyss
No way should you just accept what is happening
Keep on treading water and keep looking for the shore. You’ve got this!
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
Author GD Turner, Horror, Science Fiction, Poetry
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Wise. Witchy. Wonderful.
Never Short On Words 