Sunday 14 November 2010

A new beginning by Peta

The fabric she had chosen was fine and soft but she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding. Ruth held the fabric against her cheek. It felt like the skin of a baby but her reflection was disappointing. She wasn’t sure about the colour. She knew she had promised to go with yellow. Bright canary yellow - a new beginning, Jeremy had said, like the rising sun on a new day. Cheery. The polar opposite of how she felt. But there was no going back. She knew that.

Ruth struggled to pull the tired old shift over her head. She just had no energy for this. Her arms were trapped in the sleeves. She struggled to free them to no avail and dropped to the floor, overcome. She had been so controlled through the whole ordeal. Trying to be strong for everyone, including Jeremy not that he needed it. He had accepted the inevitability of his condition easily, too easily in fact. Just once if he could have yelled or screamed at the injustice of it all, maybe she could have too. But no. Jeremy soldiered on like he always did, right up to his last rasping breath. So Ruth had promised herself she would not break down. She must remain strong. It’s was what Jeremy expected. But now in an instant, it was all too much to bear.

The tears started, slowly at first, then a torrent. Her body collapsed, landing heavily in a heap on the floor of the cubicle. Her shoulders heaved, her breathing was ragged. Sinewy arms remained trapped sticking up to the ceiling. She shrunk within herself and bawled.

“Madam, are you alright. Do you need help?”

Ruth held her breath but could not respond. She heard the saleswoman retreat.

Her back found the wall and she rested against it. Her chest rose and fell heavily. Her feet popped out from under her bottom. Sore knees relieved, as she stretched them out across the carpet, synthetic threads stung her delicate skin.

Her bra was soaked from the waterfall as the tears continued to cascade over her belly, down to her knickers. She felt ridiculous and exhausted.
Ruth caught herself in the mirror. My god how awful she looked. Her once plump and joyous face was skeletal, her cheeks sunken and cave like. Deep dark ridges underlined her eyes. All colour had drained from her face. She looked deeply disturbed yet somehow comical, her hunched up arms above her head still caught in her cheap and nasty dress, bony elbows sticking out at all angles. Jeremy would be mortified if he could see her now. How undignified. But, Ruth thought, he will not see me now or ever again.

Pull yourself together woman and get on with it. The sooner this is done and over with, you can get out of here.

Ruth took a deep breath. Her body relaxed. Her arms slipped out of their straightjacket, the shift falling to her side on the mottled carpet floor. Dragging herself to her feet unsteadily, she eyed the yellow frock hanging on the back of the door. It was quite lovely and definitely met the criteria Jeremy had specified.

OK she said to herself let’s get on with it. Carefully she drew the silky garment over her head and shuffled her arms through the holes. The straps settled on her bony shoulders. The fabric floated down over her breasts, stomach then hips and settled snugly around her. There was no mistaking it was made to measure. The transformation was unbelievable. Ruth was mesmerised by the vision before her. The sad sullen face was uplifted. The yellow created an aura impossible to describe. Despite herself, Ruth smiled. Her face enlivened and her smile broadened. Her reflection laughed back at her. And she knew that Jeremy knew this was how it would be. All at once a surreal calmness settled over her. She felt strangely stronger, cleansed. This would be a new beginning.

Monday 1 November 2010

Death of a Tree by Gordon

Death of a Tree

The saw cut true
The high back cut
And purring sounds
Abound around

The axe hit hard
The sound was crisp
An echo rang back
With a hardened crack

Again and again
The strike was deep
The chips flew high
And the scarf was nigh

The blows were hard
The wood wound back
But the handle clasped
Each with a gasp

A creak was heard
The blow was quick
A creak again
An upward strain

Which way to fall
Not yet we tell
But soon a tremor in the stem
Has all say their last Amen

A path was cut
Through the air
The green leaves waved
And a shadow heaved

The crash came soon
With crushing blow
Death was swift
And none could lift

As one life ends
Others begin
Nature is cruel
Yet never unkind

Gordon MacAulay
1 November 2010