@ellowrites thank you for the suggestion of posting an excerpt of my short story and contest entry on Booksie, Five Souths to North. The excerpt is from the first section titled Elizabeth. Here it is:
Sixty-four years is a long time to not see the world in the color of love. Did it ever exist, she often wondered? She had felt contained; she had been a tormented prisoner from within. When she first learned of the news, yes, she had felt sorrow achingly bite her heart for a moment, but it had been such a long time to feel the chains of life burdens covering her soul. She had once been a woman of grace and passion, yet she could not remember those days outside of the color black. “Sixty-four years…,” time whispered to her elderly ears which no longer carried the same surround sound of her youth. Her senses only carried the skeleton of youthful power which once was but no longer here. The control of another exerted its imprisoning force even now only moments later. Her back ached fresh of laundry and kitchen duties. Much was required of a woman she had been so reminded all of her life. He held wealth, but since the death of a child he demanded nothing less than servitude. Her life of eighty-three years had left her arthritic and every tendon screaming in pain; it always sang the song in the painful pitch of the banshee.
A few days ago the ambulance had come, and she had still felt the hole in her soul. However, it now seemed to carry less weight on her heart. She had already begun to feel freedom as it tasted the dry flesh of once beautiful lips. Her heart no longer knew what to do with this…this free feel opening up the curtains of a soul dulled by years of torment. She had spent these sixty plus years knowing not freedom but crying endless tears of a trapped prey caught in a spider’s web. As the news of finality had come just moments before, she remembered her freedom. She felt she needed to carry the actions of loss for the eyes of others, but she was truly beginning to embrace the comfort of the loss more. She did not believe she could perform on cue anymore. It was time to open her to life once again.
Elizabeth had once been the most eligible woman of her home town, but she had the destitute soul of the fatherless always staining her soul. Daddy had left her mother while she had been young. Daddy had traded for a “younger, better model.” She had learned at this early age how men could be pigs. At least, this is what her mama had always said. Mama had tried to pass on this terrible life lesson. Was it a lesson, or was it a lie? Either way she never minded the words of that woman, had she? Mama had known the ways of men and so did Daddy. He knew it well because he played the game so damn well.
She could barely conjure up his image these many years later. She had so craved a father. He was an empty pit in her heart, and he was the fog-filled void of what never was in her mind beyond the memory of a tiny little girl. She had never stopped feeling the desire to fill the gap of her scorned mind. Her spirit still bled beneath this scar. It was hard to move beyond the need for fulfillment.
When the messenger had come, she had gasped. He, perhaps, mistook this as a gesture of a broken heart, but she had breathed a release of forty-eight years. He had left her room like a pouty child after being disciplined. She gave herself a moment to crack a smile at his civilized belief he express a strong air of sympathy. Even now as she gazed out the window of this civilized purgatory of healing, she felt the sun looked so amazing in its yellow brightness. Her world sang a sudden rainbow of Technicolor. She knew the vision of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, the 1939 masterpiece from MGM. She could see vibrant life in the trees surrounding the parking lot of the facility. Cars gleamed in the parking lot in front of her eyes like the world suddenly carried a new coat of paint shining everything anew.
“I don’t th..............
To read the final four parts of the story (there is more) here is a link:
https://www.booksie.com/posting/jmurch/five-souths-to-north-278297 @ellowrites #love #hate #pain #sorrow #aging #surrealism #fiction