Opening up
She started to raise her hand in farewell, but
abruptly stopped the motion. What use would it be anyway, he wouldn’t stay.
They never do, so she stands there alone yet again. How is it that this keeps
happening? She wants to run to him, wants to give herself over to his world and
experience the fulfillment that he has offered oh so briefly.
It isn’t as if she isn’t an attractive woman.
She has good taste in music and a heart as large as any could want. Her hair,
though not long, was a striking shade of brown with a light curl towards the
bottom. And her body…her body is simply
amazing with a divers lines and a dancer’s grace. Over the floor she floats
from one foot to the next, beauty in motion. Of all her features, her deep green
eyes light the path to the untapped depths of her soul.
Yes she was crafted to please the eye, and stir
the imagination. She, like Helena of troy, should be the match head struck, sparking
a bonfire in those around her, but she always felt wanting… unfulfilled. With each
day it became more evident that the spark needed to be delivered another way.
Over and over they came. At times there were
two or more. Sometimes, but not often, one would come back twice in a single
day. One summer the same man came every day, almost four months before he too
left. That was a hard one for her. Not as often were the women…and that brought
shame, say no? No wasn’t something she had in her…they came and left the same
as the men.
It usually started the same; every day…The
cat’s ear would perk up. The sound of a car, or truck door slamming shut would
echo through the home. At first she felt immense excitement. Blood racing and
nerves tingling she would think to herself, finally
I have company, someone to feel with, someone to talk to. Footsteps would
be the next to fly across her nerve. Mouth going dry she would walk to the
door, to invite them in, to say hi, or to shout that she wants more!
But it stayed the same…they come, and then leave
her behind. All her whispered pleas and tears leaving them unmoved, they would
go.
Again for the ten thousandth time she lowered
her hand, plea unanswered. Again for the ten thousandth time they left unaware
of the need in her. Again she stands behind her unopened door as the mail man
leaves his package on the porch, she wishing she could speak to him, to anyone.
He leaves never knowing he was watched the whole time, they never do.
Again she stands behind the unopened door; a
door that hadn’t opened in years…wishing that the world was fair…It isn’t like
I don’t have anything to offer them…………………..
Chris McQueeney 4/30/12 3:09 P.M.
The above story is fiction and any resemblance to actual people or places is a mere Coincidence so chill the f out...
the photo courtesy of yo mama...no actually it was from bing images!
9 comments:
gosh...i feel so bad for her...her isolation and longing to have that contact but falling short...def emotive man...
Okay then...I feel bad enough. You had to go and make it worse...
There seems to be no exit...
i love feeling when i read.
this is outstanding chris!
So intriguing! I teeter, tipping back and forth on the edge of believing her a person afraid to leave her home (is it agoraphobic?) or believing her a ghost...a spirit trapped without means or ability to step out anymore into the physical world - to experience it's exquisite sensations.
Tomorrow is Insecure Writer's Support Group posting day...(the first Wed of every month we each post - I'll have mine up and also the link to see others) I hope to see you there - you might like the group - and decide to join up!
I enjoyed this very much Chris. I could feel her pent up little insecurities....... which leads me to the above comment.
Insecure Writer's Support Group? What d'you think? I'm not sure if I shoul....well, will you be joining..if you do I might, well, grammar - now there's a scary fought!
Seriously, though, despite the title perhaps up for a little fun-poking at (at first!) it sounds good for moral indeed! I'll keep a check on it...!
Helena (not of Troy)..x
It's interesting because I find myself thinking more about the people who came to the door, than the woman behind it. Her isolation I understand. Her want I understand. But who comes to an unopened door every day for four months? Who is that tenacious man, and what was it that finally broke his mission?
Insecure Writer's Support Group is a great group, Helen (not of Troy) (love that misnomer btw). There aren't many rules - only that if you sign up on the link list you post about your writing journey - your insecurities, successes, the ups and downs on the first Wednesday of every month. There are always good posts. I've enjoyed it - I joined last November, I believe. Anyway.
As for the people coming, I was thinking it was the mail man...deliveries....survey takers...those darned electric company people always asking you to switch to their company..the 'meat-guy', who you just know stole all that meat he's wanting to sell you for a 'cheap-price'.
Hmmm...maybe I just get a lot of traffic at my door. Ha!
I could relate and "feel for" this woman's sense of longing. However, since she was obviously not a homely lady on any level, I kept wondering why no men wanted to accept her pleasures. I think there is something that she's keeping a secret and not telling us.
BTW, I just wanted to say that although I'm mostly into reading poetic verse, I truly enjoy reading your short stories. Keep-up the good efforts.
really special Chris, went perfectly with a rainy wednesday. it opened my heart.
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