Room

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Many takes on this. What do you get from it?

Submitted: December 13, 2008

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Submitted: December 13, 2008

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The room was filled with the stale stench of charred cocaine. Frantically scanning eyes would struggle in the absence of light to pick up on the slow labored movements of those who filled the air with that foul funk. Pestilent droning sounds of a go nowhere 90’s metal band’s back end songs of a self produced album moan in the background. The floors are covered with what can only be described as grime and trash. All faces are blank, all eyes are dim. Yet they all claim this is the place that lets them breath. A woman in grey sweat pants sits on the floor with her back against the seat of a chair cradling her small child under her right arm. While her left, sinister hand reaches for the discarded syringe resting upon the coffee table before her. The child’s face holds nothing but the look of confusion and angst. But her body language suggests she is in a comfortable familiar state. She looks up as her mother struggles with the surgical band intended to constrict her arm. Juggling the needle between her teeth and end of the band under her chin, there is no chance to take notice of her child. Knowing that she is so close to that sought after release. Her body begins to tremble and shake. As she flexes her arm and slaps at her bruised skin, she begins to weep. That instant, she observes her surroundings, sees the unanimated bodies. Smells the stagnant odor in the air and finally takes heed that her child is not within sight. The needle plunges into her arm, breaking frail skin and all is forgotten once more.

The room was dimly lit. Familiar sensations overcome the young woman as she takes in her surroundings. She sees people draped over broken stained furniture. Their movements slow and staggered. Low tones of music are acquired by her ears. She reaches for the needle resting beside her feet. Clasps it in a death lock grip then slowly raises her head to look upon her mother sitting beside her.


© Copyright 2020 Drew Stewart. All rights reserved.

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