Beyond The Pale : Shorts

Short Story : Lady pt.1

"But there's like a million things..." Indifference. "There's no point." Spite. Maybe.
"In saying much." Still not finishing her staggered sentence. Maybe it's, intimidation! No, no, no she's circling, I've seen this before.

"I just doubt you'll understand."

Hollow.

Not a glimmer of emotion may have ever been witnessed from this dark woman. Incredible.

The lab-coat wearing doctor interrupts her gently, shaking her red hair across her shoulders, with puckered lips says "No, I know, I get it." she pauses to assess the dark lady's face. Leaning closer. Her tiny figure swallowed by a hunky metal chair, the pretty dress riding her mid-thigh, higher.

What are the chances there'd be any changes in her dark demeanor?

"I do." She repeats, only this time, she scoots her metallic wired chair forward, only to leave 2 inches in between her and the dark lady, leaving a small crevice separating their noses to allow for airflow I presume. I couldn't have said that she left any space between them. Had I only known she'd make such sudden moves, I might've been able to use that to my own appeasement.

She tilts her coiled red hair , that is followed by her upper body, peering at the dark lady from behind thick, fiery, eyelashes. Her eyes shone a shade of eternal emerald, through the contrast they glistened over with a distant decorum, hiding behind them the world's purest treasures.

I'd do anything to make her happy. She kept her posture open wide, her hands steady. Making only slow movements. Each time, a ray of light bouncing off her pale white skin, as though it was covered by a delicate barrier, a membrane which a single prick could destroy entirely.

Regardless, the red head only ever pauses briefly, to acknowledge the cold, stubborn and slow grimace building through out the dark lady's face, the brightness diminished from her skin, seemingly, she gave in to the dullness. Her dark slick hair curtained her eyes entirely, with a torch of overcoming darkness.

With a nod the doctor resumes to conclude the session, "I just think, sometimes, we need to put more intention into things, maybe next time?" Her tone silly against the reality. She's a part of the experiment, albeit fatally so.

"Whilst confidence can be a facade, consider... perhaps, peace, in knowing your greatness!" Even as she laughed, the dark lady remained stacked in her chair, rigid like a jenga puzzle. One wrong move, pandemonium ensues and you're the only one to blame.

Once again, willfully, locking her emerald eyes onto an abyss, she continued her gazing, into the deep darkness.

"You know, life is boring, we all get bored sometimes, and we get cranky, our bones start popping and creaking, and nothing ever feels right!" She continued, coming to a final sweet surrender of futile prompts. "Amalia?" the name picked off her tongue.

"No matter what it is that you do in life. You will always encounter a challenge, and as many as you think they will be, they will be, but so much more." She continued, rearranging herself in the room, and plucking at what weeds she could reach in the dark lady.

Oh how the bitter-sweetness laces the scent of this challenge. Reality dances across my tastebuds. Alas, there can only be one winner and in a world of  depravity. Oh the misery. She knows not of such wickedness. Oh, poor credulous thing, how bitter-sweetness matches your scent and the ripened redness of your hair.

I watched. She gazed entertainingly through her black dimmed eyes, from behind matted curls at the small, round, silver rimmed chronometer, hung high up on the ceiling. Daring it to stop. Tracking it. Chasing it.