Blaise Terese
Stories (17/0)
Vacuum
A glass of water was brought to her nightstand when the sun went down every evening. The water would be reflecting from the green cylinder lamp of glass as its ember-colored light illuminated only her bedside. One cannot repeat the past no matter to what extent its preserved. Her TV tray sat in the corner of the bedroom next to her water. Old prescription bottles with expiration dates from decades ago faded the illegible print and the remaining pills lost their potency soon after. Were the letters by the bottles addressed to her or was she writing a draft now as gray as the dust which blanketed ever inch except the small circle on the nightstand.
By Blaise Terese6 years ago in Humans
Clouded Vision
** Holly I knew he loved me before he even saw my face. From behind, he was captivated by my shape. Over the past year and a half, it had softened and smoothed to that of any young woman. The dark chiffon of my skirt accentuated my hips, which were still growing wide. The pain in my chest and lower back confirmed my thin, pear figure was blossoming into what would seem a fertile young woman. Quite the contrary. I’d never bear a child of my own, something that still haunted my maternal disposition at the time. A child of the future that would never be. At night, all cats were grey but the feline cultivating in my mind and physicality were simply too black or too white. I couldn’t forget the past, and evening usually spent on the prowl for my generation were a constant reminder to put up a wall more often than not.
By Blaise Terese6 years ago in Psyche