She RunsA Story by Poppy EdwardesShe runs. Her long tanned legs stretch out beneath her as she finds her gait. Her Nike clad feet strike the pavement with purpose as her taut body pushes forward. Her long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail sways as she runs in time with her iPod. The sunshine warms her face and if she tries hard enough she can catch the scent of the flowering roses nearby. She feels lean, muscular, and beautiful. She can see the other girls from her classes looking at her. Envious, resentful at her athleticism and beauty. She casts them a conceited smile and continues past. Looking. Searching. He appears in the distance and the sight of him robs her mind of thoughts. Her heart quickens in pace as she watches him approach her at a jog. His muscular body firm and powerful like carved titanium encased in seamless bronzed skin. Sweat glistens in the sun along his blonde hairline. The hard line of his jaw set rigid in concentration as his feet pound the asphalt bringing him closer to her. The swarm of butterflies within her burst into a flurry of activity stealing her breath away as he notices her. His sparkling green eyes piercing deep into her soul. A smile plays around his full soft lips as he slows his pace, her whole body is humming as he greets her. His voice thick and smoky curls around her heart. She breaks into a wide grin and begins to respond when suddenly her step falters. Her foot catches the other and she tumbles sideways landing hard on her side. The evoked image of their encounter dissipates. The mouldy dusty scent of her parent’s basement assaults her as she lays on the cold unyielding floor. The treadmill beside her continues to whirl. Her IPod lies beside her no worse for wear but music still blares through the earpiece. Frustration and agony engulf her as irrepressible sobs shudder through her bulky frame. Humiliation stings her already flushed cheeks. She is well versed with that feeling. It taunts the jagged hole in her heart every time his eyes swing the other way when he passes her in the halls. He doesn’t see her standing there. Lonely. Invisible. A ghost. Dejected, she looks down at her stomach protruding out between her new gym wear and sees the pink ribbons of stretchmarks scored through her flabby skin. She's flooded with shame and revulsion. She isn’t sure how she got this way. How she ever let herself become this disgusting creature that hides behind the bleachers every lunch time. Watching him train as she devours copious packets of chips and chocolate bars. She knows he will never love her like this. No one will ever love her like this. She craves to come out from behind the bleachers. To run the track in the sunlight. To be beautiful. Resolute, she wipes away the sweat and tears from her face and struggles to pull her corpulent body up from the floor. She notices the flesh on her knee has torn open but doesn’t linger to wipe away the blood. With renewed purpose she steps back on the treadmill. It whines and labours under her heavy weight but she turns her IPod up to drown it out. The first few steps are awkward, lurching, but she soon finds her stride. Her chubby feet cramp in her new running shoes and her plump legs spasm in pain. She loses herself in the agony, in the music, in the moment as her cunning imagination again begins to taunt her with convoluted fantasies. And she runs. © 2015 Poppy EdwardesAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorPoppy EdwardesAustraliaAboutI believe we all have great stories to tell. Some can tell their own easily, without hesitation. Some can not. But there are a special few, blessed with a gift to articulate the stories of the sile.. more.. |