Sunday, June 19, 2011

Storms of Thought

“Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one’s head.” Mark Twain


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The cell phone sits like dead weight sinking through ropey tendon and scraped bone to the depths of the woman and the hand that held it. Her heartbeat is a frantic cacophony threatening to burst her ribcage, ripping fibrous tissue and skin until her fear is exploited.

“In the end the decision is yours to make.” They always say that don’t they, she thought, as if she had a choice to begin with. When in reality only one existed.
“What would you recommend if it were your wife in my place?”
“Surgery, this will only get worse over time.”
Faced with the point blank question, her doctor didn’t have any reason for subterfuge.

The phone slides from her hand, bouncing off the surface of the coffee table with a jarring thud. Remember this, she tells herself. When this is all over remember every single detail and ache.
***

The mirror seldom lies, she thought staring at her reflection. Here and there streaks of gray belayed an age her face thankfully didn’t betray. She captures a few strands and fingers them gently. This she can do something about, making a mental note to buy hair dye and fix the faux passe before surgery. Gray hollow ovals encircle her brown eyes giving them a deeper depth. Sleep wasn’t exactly a friend these days, toying with emotions and stress like a jugglers balls threatening to crash down at any minute.

Her mouth pulls into a half grimace, scrunching up one cheek. Is this how she would write the wait and outcome; with this mock determination to make the most of things, while befriending denial until the inevitable? Is she supposed to keep a brave face and bald face lie in the face of courage?

“You’ll heal.” She tells the twin in the mirror. Remember this. The woman realizes bravado lies to the face of the heart, reality writes things far differently.

Would I have written this part into the story…I’m not so sure.
***

The laptop slams shut with a disgruntled curse. What else did they want from her? How many forms and pleas for help before they relinquished control back to her? How can they leave her with nothing? Those were her words, her contacts, and followers. She worked hard to build some of those relationships and now in one fell swoop she was cut off. Her stomach gurgled threatening to spew, is this how it felt to be heartsick?

None of this had been her fault. The hacker left her feeling violated and raped of control. The worst, the utmost worst, she was cut off from her words. Words with substance and experience, those utterances of bravado she knew she had at one time and needed more than ever.

“Stupid asses!” The angry tirade poured out of her. The weeks of worry and stress bubbled over to full fledged outrage.

Remember this; the vulnerability and sense of utter helplessness that overcomes you - the loss and anger. Remember it exactly like this; scathing hatred and tears.
***

Life registers close to the heart. Everything around us is a character study on life. The fount in which we slice a vein and find substance for words, those mirrored life experiences - begin with the writer (the heart) and echo outward.

The above experiences could be anyone. Their reactions might not be shared ones. The question is did you feel anything? Did I manage to put you in the woman’s shoes even for a moment? If I did then I’ve succeeded – if not, I have my work cut out for me. I will say this though; sometimes the outcome is never quite what we expect. - Indigo


Picture From Here

29 comments:

  1. I felt every letter syllable word punctuation mark. Kudos.

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  2. With the first one, my heart reached out to you, afraid that you had a new ailment. Glad that is not the case :o)

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  3. These were all excellent pieces to a story. Great work!!

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  4. brrrr...

    Kinda scary, and also good. thanks, Indigo.

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  5. Staring into the abyss. The shadows of flies. Call it what you like, you get it.

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  6. You write beautifully. I felt you sweetie. That's what I felt. I entered your skin and watched the picture show through your eyes. I will be praying for you next Thursday. I've been thinking about you as the calendar clicks through the days. I'd like to send you a little something for your birthday if you will e-mail me your address.

    ((Hugs)) Indigo, sweet friend.

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  7. You drew me right in...job well done! excellent!

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  8. What you say here is so true, and you demonstrate it too ... that's why sometimes I think writers are explorers, we're plotting out the possibilities ... how it might feel.

    Very touching vignettes. Thank you.

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  9. I really dig this. It was very well written. It made me feel something very deep and powerful.

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  10. Amazing writing! I was there in every moment.

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  11. Feel better soon. My thoughts are with you. As far as your writing, I think you worry too much. Everything you write strikes a chord with me. I only hope mine is anywhere near as absorbing. ((Hugs))

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  12. By the end, my heart was racing - I lived as each for a time. Beautifully done.

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  13. Yes, you zeroed in on the details that mattered in the vignettes, the points that touch other hearts. Yes, you have the gift.

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  14. Love the sound and the fury. Well done.

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  15. Yes, I definitely felt the emotions. {{hugs}}

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  16. Yes, I feel. I react. Success! xx

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  17. "Remember this; the vulnerability and sense of utter helplessness that overcomes you - the loss and anger. Remember it exactly like this; scathing hatred and tears." I've felt like this; in fact every time I'm hurt and angry. You've captured helpless rage very well.

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  18. Hi Indigo,

    Great header. I loved the rhythm, the movement and the dance of the prose. It is intriguing to say the least. You have succeeded in giving the reader a ride of words. Keep up the good work. You are talented. Happy Blessings my friend.

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  19. I am so glad I relocated you journal. It is one of the most beautiful, never fails to touch and move my heart. Your writing shines. I so love it.

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  20. You have great prose! My writing journal is so boring compared with your poetic words.

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  21. The medical stuff at the beginning was a real punch in the gut. Good Job!!

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  22. Your writing shows that you have a gift. Thank you for posting this.

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  23. Dear Indigo, in trying to make connection with blogs I have not visited for awhile, I saw your comment on Cat's final post in March 25, 2011.

    So I am here--to let you know that reading this post I forgot who I was, where, what, how, why, and when is 'before' or 'after'.

    Seriously, I was transported (momentarily) into the BEING of a woman with serious health issues. I thought her thoughts, 'felt' her decision-making anguish, and my cell phone is now heavy to my limp arm....

    BRAVA...and PEACE!
    Steve E

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  24. FUNNY! How when I lose track of a blogger, months later I find that the Peeps who comment on their writings are somewhat strangers also--grin! And...I'm afraid to click on them, for fear that I'll soon end up with a hundred new posts to read and comment every single day!

    Ya know what I mean, Jelly-Bean? I just don't know where to draw that line of "Enough! Enough!"

    Just sayin'...BTW I also LOVE your header--I do remember that! So maybe it wasn't all THAT long ago? Oh well...BLESSINGS to you, girl!

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  25. I love these little snippets into character's lives, and I definitely do end up feeling for them all. Your writing has such a power and universal truth to it - I think everyone on this planet has had a "remember this" moment where we try so hard to hang on to those emotions so that we might be able to set them free later on. Well, your words set those emotions free and they crawled through my skin, Indigo. Fantastic writing.

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  26. Indigo, there is nothing you write that doesn't move me. Even your most mundane comments tug at my heart, so beautifully are they written.

    Sending hugs your way.

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Thank you for giving my silence a voice, my muse your words, and taking the time to discover my prose.