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She stood, stiffly, a monument to strained poise, staring wonderingly at the skyscraper- the monster of steel and glass that would soon consume her. She took a step forward, unconsciously grinding her shoe against the sidewalk with which she would soon be pressed against as though it were a lover that had been absent for eons, and had suddenly returned.
Her grey eyes glazed over as the thought left her, and her mind wandered to that which she had set out this morning to do. Her thoughts shied away from the word "suicide"- it was more of a freedom, flying, like drinking the sky.
Suddenly, she became aware of the New York faces that rushed past her, and she lifted a delicate ivory hand to the stainless-steel handle of the door that would lead her into the building- lead her to her meaning.
She smiled politely as she stepped onto the glowing tile of the lobby, and offered a quiet "hello" to the secretary behind a large marble desk. Her teeth were white and her eyes desperate, as the secretary scowled and showed that she had no time for friendliness, as she watched the frantic woman boarding an elevator.
"I'm Laurel". She introduced herself shyly to the only other passenger. He had thick eyebrows under which rested curious eyes, and they surveyed her slowly,up and down. He noticed her tousled brown hair, and her white cotton dress that clearly and sensually revealed all that lay beneath the thin fabric. He stared with a hunger that showed it had been to long since he had been with a woman, but masked it quickly as he looked at her round face which would have been ugly if not for the large, individualistic glasses she wore.
He tore his eyes away from her, and stepped off of the elevator without responding to her, leaving her alone as the metal doors closed and she was left with a reflection she would never be satisfied with.
Her fragile smile splintered as she experienced the strange, almost weightless sensation as the elevator climbed higher and higher, finally stopping at her floor- the top floor- as her tears slowly started. They stopped quickly as she trudged up a flight of stairs and onto the rooftop, and her eyes suddenly sparkled with happiness and leftover tears as she surveyed the city below her.
Her steps were trembling as she struggled across the gravel sprinkled across the flat roof, and her high heels wobbled as she finally reached the ledge.
She stood stark against the sky, with just enough ind to stir her long brown hair into an ever changing frenzy. She stood with strong legs spread apart, showing the city that she wore nothing under the thin fabric of her dress- expecting them to want her as the man in the elevator had wanted her. She felt the eyes forty stories below, raping her. She grinned and blushed and leaped into the sky.
She saw the blue tinged with smog, as though the sky had leprosy. She saw the cotton of her dress billowing with her storm of hair. She saw the pavement whistling toward her and thought; "I didn't want to die. I just wanted to know what it was like." She heard screaming, felt her bones explode in ecstasy as she and the world collided. And then, nothing.
- Title: A Shared Illusion
- Artist: Waging
- Description: A short story I've written
- Date: 02/03/2009
- Tags: shared illusion
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Comments (2 Comments)
- titiania mendager - 05/13/2010
- interesting to read. well done.
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- Yulia Olegovna Volkova - 02/09/2009
- Wow...sad. But very well written. I liked it. Good job.
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