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The Twisted Forked Road

02 Mar

moss.fm

Marcy padded through the kitchen, humming tunelessly. Stopping short in front of the refrigerator, she silently laughed at herself for forgetting her favorite wineglass. Retreating a few steps, she stretched on  tip toes, pulling the glass haphazardly from the shelf.

Red or white? she asked herself. Opting for red, she poured a healthy dose of ‘stimulating-the-blues’ liquid. Glass in hand, she stopped long enough to hit play and wait for the sultry voice of Joss Stone to ring through the apartment. Arriving at her place of destination, she set her glass upon the bathroom cabinet and began gathering her cleaning supplies. She concentrated on her task with a determination which would rival world peace negotiations.

Inhaling the citrus fragrance from her cleanser, she targeted the invisible dirt with the poise of a Green Beret accomplishing a mission. Scrubbing furiously, her mind milled around the subject which was closing in on her mind and spirit. Nausea choked up through her stomach, jaw tense, bile battling with her natural instinct to choke it back down.

Huh, she thought, leaning against the bath tub. Rotating her neck, her eyes caught sight of chipped nail polish on her toes. Guess it’s kinda like that, she surmised. It looks so pretty when it’s fresh and new but after time, it starts to wear off, leaving behind a mosaic mess.

I wonder why things can’t be as simple and easily defined as when you’re a child, she pondered.

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Scrub, scrub, scrub.

Back in the days when emotions didn’t make everything so damn complicated!

Furious scrubbing.

I wish I could just cleanse the uncertainty right out of my head. A good old fashion cleaning. Of my mind. And soul. And….furious with the path her thoughts were starting to stray, she exhaled loudly, attempting to refocus the course of her mind.

Once I get the bathroom sparkling clean, I’ll attack the mountain of laundry threatening to do a takeover in the extra bedroom.

The extra bedroom.

I hate how this is making me feel. One minute I’m so angry, the next, confused. Let’s not forget those freaking moments when I’m damn certain I know what I’m going to do.

Damn,

damn,

damn!

Each word accentuated with the hard push of the tooth-brush in the grooves of the tile.

Snap!

Marcy stopped, stunned. She’d just snapped her cleaning tooth-brush in half by the mere power of her thoughts. Bubbles of giggles erupted from her mouth.

“I am woman! Watch me snap!” she sang aloud. Smiling at her silliness, she turned to reach for her wineglass, catching a glimpse of her reflection. Her sight settled on crinkling blue eyes.

Such sadness I see when I really look at myself. Swallowing the fresh lump, she brushed her bangs from her eyes. I won’t do this! I. Will. Not. Fall. Apart! I can make this decision. I can make it. And I will come through it okay in the end. You watch, she glared at her reflection.

“You watch!”

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This week’s prompt: Write a scene in which a character does something while alone in a setting that is extremely significant to that character. Have the character doing something (dishes, laundry, filing taxes, playing a computer game, building a bird house) and make sure that YOU are aware that the character has a problem or issue to work out, but do NOT tell your reader what that is. 

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5 Comments

Posted by on March 2, 2012 in Bloggy Moms

 

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5 responses to “The Twisted Forked Road

  1. SAM

    March 2, 2012 at 1:51 AM

    I like the struggle you show here very much. I’m just not quite sure what she is dealing with. Indecisiveness for sure, but over what? Haha. I love that she thinks her thoughts snapped the toothbrush. That is a really really fabulous line that says volumes with only a few words.

    I’m loving watching you grow as a writer and now I’m off to catch up with all the other stuff you are doing, too.

     
    • awriterisborn

      March 2, 2012 at 4:13 PM

      You know my first book will have a dedication to you for encouraging me. 🙂
      I didn’t really have what the problem was in mind. I stopped myself before thinking of one to let the reader put their own interpretation in.
      Thoughts are powerful, eh?

       
      • SAM

        March 3, 2012 at 9:57 AM

        That was a good ploy. it’s always good to give your reader the trust to figure things out. 😉

         
  2. Imelda

    March 3, 2012 at 9:58 PM

    I resort to this sort of manic cleaning up when I am in a bind. 🙂 I totally feel for your character.

     

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