The Portrait of Dana, Naked and Confused

A vignette focusing on Dana, a young woman, who's life is just as mysterious as anyone's. If you are on Wattpad, go here:

Tick, tock, tick, tock, goes the ticking tock of the ticking clock, suspended over the mismatched glass and porcelain stock. A low, morning light sure creeps to blight zebra stripes ‘gainst plaster white; that amber sheen just scattering like light… scattering like light.

Dangling ceramic of color haemic, brightly reflected on brass panoramic. A hanging cloth and a flower pot, imprisoned china in dark, see-through prisons. Above it all, a darkened lamp of scaly glass, not yet shining down on four wood chairs and wooden table.

Beep, beep, beep, an otherworldly tone. Was this for her? A reminder of the mon? A crimson, flashing linger sounding more than ebon finger? This it was not, though she recognized it clearly… She was naked, head to toe, her burnt orange hair soaked, flung and strung. Though she breathed rather heavily, her mouth kept open and still. This phenomena was not common, not for her.

Here she stood, in silence over the machine, the phone now lifted to her ear. Still-borne water had begun to wriggle and writhe down her arms and legs like snakes, or so it felt against her sebum-lorn skin left drying in the cold. For the remainder of her idle time in the middle of the room, not once had an answer come from the other side of the line; nor had one from this side. She finally hung up, gaining nothing and losing everything through no one.

Only another narrow moment slaved itself to the eternal, malevolent time and the woman’s mind came back to the there-and-gone present, lifting her cerulean blue eyes from the void in which they once found themselves. Time never waits, and for her the finger had no intention to make an exception.

And from the back of her mind, she had finally remembered the mon, and so she removed herself… she was gone.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, the ebon finger goes.

Author's Note

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