Writer. Fighter. Lover. Dreamer. The doctor's say she's generally functional.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

Indie Ink Challenge Aug 22 - Aug 26 2011

Prompt: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

She was safe today because she had nothing left.

Her money had run out about a week ago and she hadn't had lunch since. Home was a cold room and love was always leaving. Now she had nothing, so, she was safe.

He'd told her today that he was leaving next week - such was how it always went, hold her tight and kiss her closer, earwhispers and all that sort of thing and then you deliver a supersmooth heartbreak oh so nice and easy, you know she's free but she isn't going anywhere. That's part of the pleasure.

She knows you're going, like all the ones who left before; that's part of her pleasure, too, and all of her pain.

To her, just for another today, this was the first time she'd been lost. The first time she'd had to rummage for coins in an empty house so she could take the bus, the first time she'd gone to bed bruised, the first time she'd watched someone she needed walk away.

Of course, knowing where the fallen coins would be, knowing how to best apply the ice, knowing that feeling of nothing next, could easily remind her she'd been here before. But this wasn't a night to remember, to realise; this was a night for ice and wine and her sad, sad songs. Nothing new there. This was what she knew.

The last bit of wine would help her sleep that night; the floor was cooler anyway, and it was a hot, hot night.

Right before her eyes closed, they came to rest on a crumpled paper bag sulking in the corner, smirking at how it was bigger than her. It reminded her of him.

She lay bare on the cold, smudgy tiles. Her skin stained with ink, her hands clutching at the hollowness of cool marble, the empty glass lay next to her.

A shadow fell on the edges of her fingertips as she lifted them to her lips, the creak of an opening door barely audible in her circus of a mind. She entertained herself in her very own colourful carousel as his footsteps drew nearer. 

She could barely remember what he looked like. 


Prompt from @Tara_R  who writes here.
I challenged Amy LaBonte and she answered here


  1. Very eerie, but I really liked it.

  2. Thank you! :)

    and yeah it was quite eerie eh?

  3. This voice is sooo intriguing and simply addicting. You've woven such a rich character in such few lines, it immediately drew me in. The best line referenced the "crumpled paper bag sulking in the corner, smirking at how it was bigger than her." This said it all and captured the moment brilliantly. Wonderful piece, well done.
    - Karla

  4. Karla, thank you so much! It's comments like yours that keep me going when I wonder why I bother sharing what I write. Thank you so much xoxox