Join me every Monday to share a favorite snippet from your work in progress – fiction, non-fiction, poetry, whatever suits your fancy! Write it in a post and link it up below, or just share in the comments section. Use this as an opportunity to hold yourself accountable – don’t let Monday roll around and find you with no new words written ;) Today I’m not using my WIP, I’m sharing something I found in my “drafts” folder under the title Curtain of Pain. I wrote it a long time ago, but some days it’s still a feeling I can relate to.
The pain is a curtain, thick and suffocating. It closes me off in the dark, away from the world outside. I can’t get relief from its weight – it is too huge for me to manage. Buried beneath its folds I hold very still, barely breathing. I pray for the curtain to lift, to transform into the pale sheers of my childhood windows, floating on breezes and teasing the sunbeams.
Pain is weakness leaving the body. That’s what it says on the T-shirt of the young father at the table near me. But if that’s the case then the weakness cascading from my every pore and drenching those around me should be causing a panic. The two women in tennis skirts would slump from their chairs, unable to even answer their trilling cell phones. The young dad, tanned and muscled from daily runs, would crush his toddler daughter beneath him as he leans over her, trying to shield her from sharp table edges.