Unraveled

jeanne_d_arc_eugene_thirion
Jeanne d’Arc, 1876. Painting by Eugène Thirion. Public Domain.

Unraveled

Morning came, predictably, as an encasement to this weary life. The moon was trapped within another daybreak, visible to the naked eye, and I found a gnawing within myself. Here tethered to this earth, a shroud of invisible shackles bound me, and the moon was almost mocking in its own misery.

Silence is loudest with the absence of chatter, but the mind won’t stand for quietude. The mind wants chaos to fester, to tug you deep into the gallows of your own past. Where the innocent girl pleas with passionate stars, but none brave enough to answer.

My hands were wrought and worn from unsuccessful clawing at the cloaked beast within, a most skilled and dangerous foe. Soma and psyche raged war as the sun rose and set, but the mocking moon wasn’t as predictable. It whispered sacred oaths, and I knew time was coming to a close.

I’d worn my heart thin, and scarlet cuffs bore my shame.

© Grace Black


 

 

Fiction written for Flash! Friday Micro Fiction Contest

 

This entry received Second Runner Up and here is what the judges, Image Ronin and Joidianne, had to say:

J: The first thing that came to mind after reading this was the punishment of Sisyphus. There is a lingering air of inevitability that makes me ache for the narrator and his/her trials. The final line truly cinched this feeling, and it’s one that will stay with me for a while.

IR: The opening, the imagery of awakening in a world bound around you, was intoxicating, then that line “silence is loudest with the absence of chatter” perfectly sets up the rest of the scene. The tension between silence and chaos, a mind racing against the consciousness of being was artfully captured. Indeed, the skilful merging of the cinematic alongside the interior was what drew me into this realm. The sense of wrestling with oneself, a battle seemingly as old as time itself, wonderfully captured.

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