Exploits in Literature

She stared into the blackness Horror was filling her as it drew closer But it was not getting closer It swallowed her She searched for its beginning There was none A putrid smell envoloped her It came in waves from the blackness She felt nauseous Her head swam Invisible chains held her suspended  Inside the awful darkness that smelled of death No one seemed to understand She appeared alive to those around her But inside she was not A walking hollow corpse A ghost A mirage A whisp Who was she now?    

 Waves of pain washed over her. There was never any relief.  Just as ocean waves beat against the shore, thoughts of all the trauma she had endured continued to buffet her. She drowned in the physical and emotional pain that stayed with her always. There was no relief. She could sometimes feel as if there was a pause in the storm. She would be happy. Excited about new things. But then something would make her remember and it would come suddenly like a blizzard. She felt cold. Shivering against the icy fingers of thought that crowded and darkened her mind, she wrapped her arms across her chest trying to feel some comfort against the cold darkness. It never went away. It was like a ghost that would one minute be in a known spot and the next waiting to jump out at her when she least expected it. She tried to move on.  The grief was still there. The pain of losing a part of herself. A special part of herself. Pain was made worse knowing that she had never been protected. Neve...

Creeping into the small corners and hidden pathways of her soul, a quietness and emptiness moved. It wasn't a peaceful quietness. Within the darkness inside, she could feel it pressing in on her. Tendrils of emptiness that grasped at her, leaving a shivery coldness behind. The emptiness was like a dark cold desert inside her being. It echoed with the haunting melody of ghosts and whispers. Trapped inside the quietness, she could hear it ringing in her ears. The sound of silence. It engulfed her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She had done everything she knew how but it didn't help the emptiness that surrounded her. Cries resounded again and again. The cacophony of crows cries except there were words. Words. So many words. What did it mean to know them when they did not help. She could see her whole life before her and the dark spots where the memories were dimmed or hidden. She had worked hard in her life but felt like it was useless. She tried and did her best for so long...

Pressing against the walls as they close in, my head hurts from the weight. I am not pure. It rings over and over in my mind. The icy fingers of misplaced guilt, fear, anxiety, and despair pull every waking thought. Even when outside I am sunny, I feel hollow, empty inside. Words ricochet off of me as water off of feathers. They barely saturate the darkness that billows like storm clouds in my mind. At times, it feels as though the brightness of the sun dispels the black depths. It doesn't. Tendrils of ebony continue to seep deep into hidden crevices and cracks. In times of trouble, the whispers of darkness explode into a thunderstorm that threatens to drown its victim in pain and noise. Reverberating against the walls, the hurricane lashes everything in it's way. The noise is deafening. There is no way out. No going back. No way to change the past. It hurts. 

Across the vast sky, the shadows and colors danced. The wind mournfully flew around the trees and edges of the mountains and over the rooftops. A faint smell of spices and the sharpness of ice could be felt as the wind rushed by. Stopping a moment on the valley floor, she looked up. The mountain before her was spread to each side like arms waiting to wmbrace her and give her comfort. She stepped forward wanting to feel the warmth of that embrace, an embrace as of a parent or close friend. Her eyes closed as tears slipped down her cheeks. The warmth from the sun and the mountains embrace filled her with comfort. She felt the emotions and hurt slowly recede with a lightness filling the heaviness of the past. She rested in the comfort. 

  The smell of spices waft from a bakery as the cookies and pies for the Christmas holiday bake in the ovens. Outside, a chill is in the air. Forcefully, the wind sways the trees as it whistles through space. Along the streets, ivy and holly garlands are hung intermittently with festive red bows and glittering red and white candy canes. In the town square, a giant tree twinkling with lights and shiny ornaments stands high above the street. Below the tree, a life-size nativity reposes. The infant Jesus lying in swaddling clothes in a manger with his mother Mary and Joseph kneeling at his side. Surrounding the manger, inquisitive children ask their parents to tell them the Christmas story. The bustle of people, wrapped in coats and scarves, does not slow even in the cold.   In the five and dime store window, little dolls, toy soldiers, and play houses are displayed advantageously for all to see. With noses pressed against the frosted window, children dream of the ...