She walks softly, her feet treading lightly on the cracked tiles of the terrace. Not exactly tracing a straight line, wavering, unsure. But bit by bit, she edges closer to the parapet.
The paper she clutches close to her breast makes small noises, crumpling and un-crumpling as her fingers curl around it. Her eyes dead-set, looking straight ahead into the horizon, seeing emptiness.
The clouds gather, the sky grows dark and dim, the darkness reflected in her eyes. And her heart. If you look closely enough, you could see the single line of tears flowing down to the slim curve of her lips, where every so often, her tongue reaches out, tasting the salt deposits.
A crack of thunder sounds, and she flinches. But only for a second. Then she steels herself, places both palms on the parapet, the crushed paper held in the fingers of her left hand, and begins to hoist herself over it.
Another crack, but this time she’s ready. She doesn’t flinch, robotic as her palms press downward. Not even when the clouds break. The drops fall, sparse at first. But a few hit her face.
Her tongue reaches out reflexively, tasting the edge of her lips. But instead of the brackish taste of her sadness, she tastes fresh, life-giving water. The sweetness washes over her tongue. That gives her pause. She relishes the taste of each drop. It rushes through her body, the knowledge of rebirth and newness.
Time passes. She cannot tell how long. She peers down, at the mashed pulp in her hands. The paper that was, on which she had written the tragedies of her life, no longer was. Everything he had done to her. Her job, her family, her pains. Everything that she had etched in ink, now a blue mulch. The rains had washed it all away, the ink flooded with every drop. She feels the watery cyan leak from the pages, over her fingers and vanish into nothingness.
She smiles, steps back from the ledge and retraces her steps, back to her life.
The crumpled piece of paper stays on the ledge, slowly turning blank, the ink leaking away in the rain.
~ Febin Mathew [@FebWin]
Learn To Inkhronize ~ 2-Day Intensive Creative Writing Workshop
29-30th June 2013
“InkFlood” is the property of InkBlood – Writing from the vein… © 2013