My eyes are missing. My lips are dull, and there are only hollow spots where my ears used to sit. A few straggles of gray hair grace my head. Pins and needles hold my breasts, stitch in my sides, and prop my buttocks.
I am wrapped and suspended like a shish kabob over an open fire. The flames lick at what is left of my skin, and I can feel it. It shocks me. It jars me. It burns my sins and cleanses me through and through. I feel pain. If I had eyes, I would cry. If I had a voice, I would scream.
For the first time, I know what is real and what is not.
The stake turns, and night is at my back. I can’t see the darkness outside of my mind. I can’t hear the quietness of the birds nesting, but I feel the coolness against my skin. And I want to reach up where I imagine the lone blue moon sits, and touch it.
The stake turns again. My heart aims toward the moon. I scream inside my mind as the fire digs into my back like a giant tongue. It digs a hole, enters my ribs and shoots out my mouth like a shooting star.
And before I explode into ash, I cry out to my mother, I ask her why? But she can’t hear me. She never could.
Beautiful! Tragic- raw goodness. I can see that poppy doll, and in her ruin, she is might.
Fine penning, Jodi.
Powerfully raw. “night is at my back.” Love it.
Yikes! A hellish way to go made even more excruciating by the last line.
wild jodes, just wild
Such beautifully-written tragedy. Piteous and wanting. Loved it Jodi.
Stark imagery, Jodi. Well done.
Thank you so much everyone. This is a piece of my heart here, and I appreciate the thoughtful comments.
Good gawd Jodi, I had to go away for a while to compose myself before I could comment. This was brilliant in an awful awful way. Just brilliant.
Such a sad, beautiful end for her. Such elegant writing J.
Sean
The precise physical nature of the language, the consistent build up of tension allowing the reader glimpses into this horror are what makes this an outstandingly strong piece of writing. It is also your trademark Jodi, blindfolding the reader and allowing them to see into the darkness.
A very powerful piece, rendered even more poignant by those three first lines and that killer last one. I saw it as a metaphore for impotence, glass ceiling.
Many thanks. I enjoyed the bareness of it all.
Merry Christmas (belatedly, I know) and Happy New Year.
Greetings from London.
“It burns my sins and cleanses me through and through.”
That’s the most telling part of the whole story for me; that, despite everything being done to her, some small place inside is still thinking it’s somehow her fault.
“And before I explode into ash, I cry out to my mother, I ask her why? But she can’t hear me. She never could.”
I’m breathless with how delicately you chronicle her destruction. Powerful, moving stuff J.
“… It burns my sins and cleanses me through and through…”
Oh, what have you done to lead you to this?
This is horrifically well written, and stays with the reader (this one certainly).
Really, really well done.
That’s pretty messed up, Jodi, especially since you are a mom. Just hand a print-out of this the next time the kids complain?
Thank you, Richard. Glad you caught the “blindfolding”. How much of our life, I wonder, do we perceive blindly?
My goodness, a tumble of comments I hadn’t seen here before. All of you have grasped the emotion/thoughts I was trying to communicate, and this really touches me. Brings taers to my eyes. Thank you everyone.
Jodi – you are brilliant and beautiful. I can feel every word here… and I understand them too. Raw. Deep. Perfect.
Jim
<3
Wow.
Thank you, Jeffrey.
I like the rhythm of this piece, Jody. It was what really grabbed me.