Fragile

   She wore fishnets and heels, with lips dark as night and skin pale as the moon. She was beautiful and delicate like a rose, but weary as if it had just endured a storm.

    The air lashed her face; the wind made up of needles and knives. Her body numb from the decreasing temperature; her emotions numb from the substance swimming throughout her veins and intertwining with her blood. Her eyes made of the finest glass and how close she leaned to the ground was remarkable, for she never fell all the way down.

    Upon request she entered the car that pulled up beside her. She was still numb, but warm now. The bumps on her skin receding so that in seconds time her arms and legs were smooth as silk; disregarding the marks that tread up her forearms, branching and spreading like roads on a map- a story in itself.

     Neither of them engaged in conversation for the remainder of the drive; the silence so loud it almost made a noise. But at last they arrived and went into the room. The dim lit room with shadows cast up the walls from the candles' flames. The aroma of cheap cologne mingled with the musty scent that arose from the furniture. The wallpaper was chipping and bore signs of water damage- perhaps the source of the mustiness.

     She took none of this in, however. She merely stood there, waiting, with a forlorn look in her glazed over eyes. When the time came she played her part; no emotion, no love, no connection; just a lonely man tired of self satisfaction and a woman willing to sell herself for just enough money to get her by. For a split second the stars collided, but then there was nothing once again.

     She put forth her contribution but he was not so eager to hold up on his end of the deal. She was ready to reap her earnings and carry on her way, but there was no earnings to be collected that night. Rage and fury consumed the man whole and she was all too intoxicated to defend herself. She fought a pitiful fight, but it was in vain.

     When all was said and done, she laid there in her ripped fishnets and broken heels. Her lips dark as night and her skin pale as the moon. She was beautiful and delicate like a rose, but she was limp as if it had been in a storm and was not strong enough to make it through.

Author's Note

Constructive criticism encouraged!

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

Your writing communicated her situation well. Good showing instead of telling the reader. I did not find your adjectives extravagant. There are very few errors of any kind. Thanks for sharing.

Cooper