The Reflection of a Well-Known Stranger
By Aplabw
She looks tired.
Her eyes are heavy, filled with grief and sadness. She stares off into the distance waiting for good fortune, a kind glance from some figure in the sky. Not hoping. She has no hope in Hope. Hoping does but remind her of what could be. Hope has done nothing for her, her own problems. A broken history of dreams and hopes lay buried in her eyes.
Her lips rarely smile. Genuinely, at least. Why smile when Sorrow is just around the corner to greet you? She could have been an actor on the big screen, fooling everyone around her that she is just like them enjoying life with childlike enjoyment. A star performer! Smiling when crushed with sadness, overcome with loneliness, and broken to pieces. Laughing on cue when it hurts just under the surface. Agonizing! Covering it up so no one can see.
She knows what to say and how to say it. Keeping people away from the pain deep inside her.
She feels empty. As if someone had knocked her over and spilled her joy, her happiness and love onto the cold counter top; leaving her only with the dark and cold for company. Empty. Floating under everyone’s radar, feeling nothing year after year. Keeping people away from the pain deep inside her.
When will it stop? The pain of her performance? When can she feel the end of her increasing emptiness? When can she feel the warm embrace of Death’s cold arms comforting her, lulling her into an endless blissful sleep? Taking her away from the routine disappointment of her life. Day after day of clouds and thundering rain unable to see the light of Hope. For Hope had abandoned her, dropping her into the world to be torn apart by it.
Without Hope, why not end it?
Why not quicken Death’s arrival? Pound, kick upon his door! Demand to be let in! Death! Why do you leave her on your door step, ignore her cries?!
Should she give herself to the razor, or the rope, or the pills in the bottle? Is that what you want? Should she end it, be free from the chains of her life and fly into the emptiness she feels? Oh, Death! It would take but a moment. A moment of your time!
Then nothing.
She could.
She can.
But she won’t.
God.
She looks tired.
I am currently a student at a local community college. This piece is was something I handed in for homework but though it interesting to post. We were asked to watch a stranger and come up with a kind of story. This piece is loosely based on my frequent bouts of depression.
A Place Between Worlds 
Wow, that’s a lot of pain, portrayed so eloquently! Thanks for sharing that we-written piece, Aplabw
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Thank you!
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Amazing descriptions, Aplabw! What else does she see as she stands by death’s doorway, thinking only of her plight? Many go in, but none come out. Used up people creep slowly to the door. Young people full of vigor wander in by accident. Several others are shoved violently toward the door. If she lifted her eyes to notice them, she would shudder. The whole world gravitates into and funnels through that door. Each leaves his treasures in a pile by the entrance.
And also, through her tears she barely notices one humble man, silent and sorrowful. In his wounds he is disfigured beyond recognition, and staggering as if under a great invisible burden. He has no treasures to leave at the entrance, having already been deprived of his clothes. Others wait for the door to be opened. But this man opens it himself, because he has the key. A twisted and bloody circle of thorny vines slips from his brow and rolls down the pile of abandoned belongings. He cries out in a loud voice and disappears to the other side.
The afternoon sky grows suddenly dark, but still she lingers at the door. She lingers in the rain and the cold. She lingers for three days, and turns to go home, her face downcast. But suddenly, the morning is bright and the ground is shaking. What happens next, Aplabw? Who comes out that door? Who else follows? And what does this mean for the well-known stranger?
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Your very good at writing! Have you thought about starting a blog yourself?
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Thanks, Aplabw! Hope you don’t mind me hijacking your story. But I’d love to read how you would improve on the start I made, and how you would finish it!
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I would love to read anything you have written! Feel free to send it in! There’s a place to email me in the About Me section. We could start a correspondence.
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