‘I crave the darkness to appreciate the light’, Sheila ran the razor gently across her skin. The scars would remind her of the nights when her father couldn’t let her sleep, a badge of honor for the darkness he had dragged her through.
A persistent fly bounced against the grimy window of her room, a drumbeat waking her to action.
Her eyes, shadowed with the nights and kohl, read the story of her past once more, but she would leave for light and he would stay. Give it a day or two and the room would be filled with blow-flies.
This image is one that works so well for me as a metaphor, actually I used a very similar one when I wrote my poetic manifesto. The first line is actually inspired from my own poem.
Friday Fictioneers is a creative group of writers that write 100 words to the same picture every week, under the supervision of the gifted Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
July 8, 2015