Breath after Breath, Bits and Pieces of Me

Black Feathers and White Crosses

She'd been through fire and gloom, covered in ashes she plodded along.. Emptiness itself, directionless, trapped in her own gloom. She no longer recognised light, nor remembered what it was. Gloom and darkness had become her constant companion. She was a sore sight for eyes, everyone slunk away from her very form. Friendless, hopeless and alone. Living a life of monotony, going through the paces. Mundane, emotionless motion. Bare, unbearable loneliness. 

That's how he found her. A ragged and wretched form, devoid of true life - lifeless, cold. Per chance destiny had led him to her. Fated to cross paths. He could see the brokenness, the void stare filled with pain. Behind brown eyes, rimmed in red.. Red from dried up tear banks. Tired from long, empty nights. Strained, drained. Her face expressionless yet the lines, the sallow undertone, the deep bags and her eyes told a deeper story. One of agony, tragedy, heartbreak and loss. A story of defeat, struggle, exhaustion, desperation, exasperation. She had seen it all. Been through it all. She had nothing left. She wanted nothing more. She sought nothing. She was empty. 

But he stayed. At first just to keep her company. No words. Just silent companionship. Then random remarks. One day the weather, others the news. She didn't respond. She didn't react. No change. But she tolerated him. Even if unwillingly, unknowingly. She did. To him it was a win. The remarks became thoughts thought aloud. Troubles at work, car trouble, surprise windfalls.. Random tales of childhood memories. Personal inner monologs said to the air. To the air and her distant expressionless stare. 

Except, he'd noticed it was no longer expressionless. In fact, it was hard to describe. Less cold, less hard. Less expressionless. Some days he imagined a furrowed brow. Others the touch of a smile. One peculiar day he even thought he heard a stifled laugh. Music to his ears. As his remarks grew in depth, intimacy and seriousness he noticed a change. He would hear sounds of agreement, disappointment, surprise and sympathy. Never full sentences. No. Not even always words. But she responded nonetheless. Her posture too, was changing. Less slumped over, less rigid too. It had become relaxed, calm even. 

Then, one day she surprised him. He didn't start the conversation. She did. A random remark, about the weather. He was shocked but instead of bubbling over like the river that raged within, he caught himself. And returned an equally mundane response. Not too excited, not too bland. And, to his astonishment it was now she that bubbled over like spring. 

And so it began.

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This was an interesting prompt. And as peculiar as the title seems, the idea for this piece sprang up as if out of thin air. I had it in mind for a while but when we got this prompt I finally had the excuse to write it. 

And if you're scratching your head, trying to figure out how on earth I felt like this story relates to that title. Well to me, the feathers represent her, in the very darkest and loneliest time in her life, an outcast like most black birds per say crows and vultures - all outcast, rejected and disdained by society for whatever reason people may have. She was rejected, outcast, a loner without hope. 

The white crosses represent the man who cared enough to want to reach out, without pushing it, without overstepping his welcome. Who wanted desperately to give her hope. I'm reminded of that scene in Romeo and Juliet, with the hill of crosses and those bright illuminated ones when I think of this man. He was the light she needed, the hope she didn't know she could have and willingly yet unknowingly received.

I hope you enjoyed it. Wishing you all a great weekend!!!!

Also thank you to  Paul Gilmore aka @pueblovista for making this above image available on Upsplash!!