Despair

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short piece I wrote to try to evoke the feeling of despair. Its not a story, its more a Gothic play with words.

Submitted: February 02, 2015

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Submitted: February 02, 2015

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~~Despair

The wind blew the tang of the sea across the salt marshes as I approached the broken ruins of stone and walked through the arched entrance. The thick walls sheltered me from the biting wind. Within the uneven walls a lush well kept lawn spread like a carpet, broken only by a few stones displaying where once the chapel had stood.  The edge of sadness that had drawn me here became more intense. My hands dug deeper into my coat pockets as I slowly walked to the tower that drew me like chill fingers. I turned a little as I walked through the arched doorway and shivered as the wind cut through the arrow niches in the thick wall, whipping my hair about my face so I saw her through my blurred vision.
There she was, her  lank  hair cut in a ragged bob that just touched her frail shoulders as she moved towards me and I felt such grief that a sob parted my own lips but was echoed by hers.Her form was insubstantial but touched me with a seeping shiver that cut deep as it passed through me with the touch of the past. Her emaciated frame seared me with pity as I turned and followed, noticing that her indistinct clothing found form as she walked outside, almost as if touched by sunshine. She wore a long gown that swept the grass, too long for her frame, one hand holding up the front to prevent her tripping. For a moment she turned and looked through me, her eyes dark shadows in her gaunt face.

Overhead the cry of a gull became a keening wail that broke from her open mouth,  It tore me and I wanted to hold her as she walked through what had once been the chapel entrance and knelt uncomfortably.  I could see how the rough paved floor must have torn at her knees.
Her image wavered and I held out my hand not wanting to lose her. From a distance I heard a voice whispering a prayer, the words flowing into the melody of a broken sadness that felt so raw.
I was scared to speak, my eyes fixed on her trying to understand why she had called me here, what could I do to help this ethereal memory that seemed to speak to me ofa sadness I had known all my life. Her body was shivering and I could feel the dank unsympathetic walls of the chapel rise around me, the oppression bearing onto me and stifling my breath. This place had offered her no comfort or charity; only pain and I could feel her final acceptance as I struggled to breathe and cling to her image as it wavered with my darkening vision. Then, in that moment, she had gone and I felt the wind lift my hair as I looked around the interior of the ruined castle

Pert


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