Once upon a time there was a woman who needed a change. She felt the need between her eyes. It was a heat, burning aside her all her cliches in her head. There was a burning outside too, singeing away at the facade, the camouflage that was her life. So she began her change in a careful way, attempting new things, making adjustments, replacing the careful apparatus of her days. Some days it helped, she felt more stretched out, more pleasingly unsettled. Maybe she could even bask a little in the fresh air of change. But it was not enough, it didn’t dig deep.
‘Just abrasions- gentle bruising and then back to that flat pool again. ‘ wrote Ella to her oldest friend Terry.’ I would like to know my own power.‘
Terry read her letters without surprise. His heart wrote back, ‘be bold my friend. Stretch out that head of yours but please chose your allies carefully. Ella, I never burn. I survive because I keep my dreams small. Like Cereal grains for hope.’
‘We are different’ wrote Ella.’ I feel this uncoiling. Unleashing. I want my name back again.’
‘Your name is Ella. I gave it to you, when you needed to hide. Be content.The other must not beckon you.’
But it did. Torn, Ella took up the cards. No one at home approved, but she sat in her window seat overlooking the back garden and told her visitors stories about their past and future.
‘Five of cups. You feel an attraction but hold yourself close, waiting for a sign that will never come unless you grow bolder. The Chariot. Step into your life. ‘
‘Ten of Wands. I feel as if my shoulders are weighted down by life. Such sadness too. Do you see, you are far more than you allow yourself to be. Strength. Work is a place of mistrust. Dark corridors. You feel a woman is between you and a lighter future. You have the Sun! ‘
Sometimes the burning did manage more and then Ella would find curled up evidence of her gradual change. Her metamorphosis. Shedding they called it back there where she came from. Shedding skin. It could happen anywhere.
It feels like poetry Terry. I leave a trail.
The bits of her old skin didn’t shrivel as she hoped though. They lay about until she buried them and even then it felt as if they were muttering about reminding her of their existence. We are only temporarily indisposed. Which part of her life was temporary and which permanent?
‘I long for magic.’
I feel the twists and turns of my head.
Be more mindful said her husband Timothy whom she had forgotten about.
‘You look different’ said Emily as they collided trolleys.
‘ I am different ‘ said Ella. There was a sweet scent about her too, part cedar, part lime.
Pleasant thought Emily but…’It’s your colouring, you look …’
‘Bolder ? ‘ said Ella.
‘Bolder. Yes. Like you are all lit up within . In love.’ she gushed. On fire.’
Ella smiled at the small woman and her mouth widened at Emily’s last word.
‘Perhaps I am’ she replied showing neat white teeth and a dark crimson tongue. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, Emily was glad to arrive at the checkout without any more conversation.
Creatures of instinct aren’t we all murmured Ella as she her.
She remembered Terry’s early lesson about human survival. Emotions stink. We radiate who we are and how we feel. Our scent communicates. We just need to remember that. You don’t though. Just pretend for a while until you know what you want to do. They’ll never find you with your camouflage.
Terry was only partially right. It took them 5 years to track her and 5 years of camouflaged living to feel suffocated.
Fighting was more fun.
This piece is poetic, sensuous and intense. The use of smells is very evocative and original writing.
Dave