Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Portent: A Short-Short-Story

Here's a very short story that was supposed to be a testimonial in Friendster. However, since I know it could be extremely offensive, I decided to relegate it to the junkpile of my writings locked away in the hard-drive of my laptop. Until such time that it can be released from its hibernation--or decide to submit it as an entry in a fast-food fiction category (the 200-or less word stories). A little sidenote: I wrote it four months ago, during which time I was reeling from inebriation and a desire to emulate the stories I read in a book entitled: Fast-Food Fiction: Short Stories to Go.

Anyway, here it is, read on:

Portent

She grunted as the woven fabric backrest of the rocking chair pierced her back like a packful of safety pins. A wince and a constrained cough, pained her lungs and punished her soul.

Alone in a house that harbored distant memories. A love lost in a stream of daydreams.

She lurched back, attempted to detach herself from the structure that embraced her, could hear her bones crack. A frail individual, trapped in the hourglass of the present, waiting for time to claim what is due.

A mirror. The reflection of one’s vanity, a betrayal in return. She meandered towards it unconsciously, a sting of recurring arthritis assaulting her knees. Nobody to help her. Nobody to see what time had done to her. She walked with extreme difficulty, dragging her hapless carcass like a stalled vehicle.

She stood in front of the mirror, tracing the contours of her face with worn-out fingers, saw her image the way it should be: exhausted, wrinkled, unhappy. Years of futile soul-searching, a heart riddled with evicted love, screaming for someone to fish it out of its imprisonment.

Like a pounded beef, numbed to withstand even the most arduous torture-welcomed it with impelled submission. Desensitized. Anesthesized. Whatever.

She sobbed, a pathetic display of regret, amidst a gale of time-bestowed pain. She clung to certain realities as fragments of comfort: advantages, delightful reminisces, happy thoughts. The remaining thing she could afford. Slowly, she closed her eyes…

…reopened it and lifted her self to search for a certain silver lining.

Etchie Pingol
April 4, 2004
2:50 AM

Labels: fiction