A Story That Does Not End

The frigid, cold wind hit Alexis in the face and reminded her of her last lover. The sting and burn aching to the bone.  Her mind now turned on, and obsessive thoughts froze her body on the back porch.  Shivering from the chill of ghosts,  all she never was, all she did wrong, and all she ever wanted but did not know how to get, and this is what warmed her from the inside so intensely she started to sweat.  Lifting her heavy hand as if she was fighting against gravity; gravity with consciousness hell bent on pushing her down, she knocked on the door faster than her thoughts. 

 

An old woman who was dressed like a Spanish gypsy answered and let her in.  Desperate for answers, Alexis was seeing a local psychic, hoping she would tell her what safe steps to take next.  The smell of sage and cat urine seeped into the pores of her skin so thick she could taste it in her mouth.  She felt the sweat drip down her ribs as she anxiously waited for the woman to bring her a cup of hot coffee and tell her of her future, if she would ever be happy or was she destined to a life of isolation and torment. 

 

The psychic, Nora Monroe, spoke cautiously slow and told her she would live alone in a world of nightmares and farfetched daydreams, and both feel the same, until she accepted her own vulnerability, that no one would ever know her until she knew her own self, and even then it was not guaranteed that she would find one single human being who would ever understand her enough to love her.  There were two roads she could take, and neither path was clear, one was the path of madness with no escape and the other happiness with no escape, and until she chose she had no future to see.  An all white cat with light tan eyes jumped in her lap purring while rubbing her head on her black shirt leaving a trail of fur.  The skinny cat looked in Alexis' eyes purposely and bit her hard on the chin.  Reactively, she swatted the cat to the floor, grabbed her chin, and wiped the blood on her sleeve. The pain of the bite gave her relief, and for a few short minutes she felt more alive than she had felt in 11 months.  Nora told her she must leave, and offered no apology for the cat's behavior.  Alexis silently thanked the intuitive cat, and gave Nora the last crumpled 100 dollar bill from the bottom of her purse.  She left with more frustration, fear of a future unknown, and still caged to fragmented memories of the past.

 

Later that evening, Alexis was finishing up writing her weekly advice column for a local newspaper in the overpopulated city she lived in.  Suddenly, silence entered the room, and she felt her lungs compressing and expanding under her blood stained, fur covered shirt.  She looked around startled and curious, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary.  The photos of her trip to San Diego and a mirror she had painted black still hanging on the same nails on the walls of her office.  Nevertheless, tingles of hope shot up her spine, hope that the entity of no sound would bring some kind of enlightenment.  This did not come, and there was no message.  No truth, no beauty, and no relief.  All she was left with was exhaustion, fatigue so overwhelming she slept on the couch that night unable to walk to her bed.  She drifted to sleep with thoughts of all life had brought and took away leaving her with an empty sense; no purpose or identity to cling to.