She is a nameless woman with unicorn skin, bearing purple and pink scars that bleed into an ashen sky. Her eyes pulse with the spectral grit and oil of yesterday’s brutality. As pain boils, it sears open a distant heaven, as real as her life, now exhausted, as a kingdom waits, seated on a throne in her mind. At the moment, a giant orb expands and contracts exultingly above her diminishing body, blinding white with cruel, descending compassion.

Impossible light melts and shimmers into her streaming tears, and here, she endures, forevermore, at the edge of a plummeting world.

She listens to the roaring waves below, waiting, knowing, sinking, releasing her disguised years in the bubbled spaces in-between, her thoughts a compass to celestial realms that will ultimately bring her home. At the edge of this solitary existence, the woman blends into a silhouette that flickers into other forms, her hair dark, dripping, her spirit shivering into a feather dusk of immortality; her hot juices flow like lava, rage warbling, light shifting.

She is a dimpled, shattered prism, this woman or fallen star, or minute tragedy in the timeline of mundane human affairs, but in every way, she is threaded into the beaded pearls of life, entangled in miracles. Within these exotic wounds, is a river flowing, her cuts, her drain, leaking into an endless preserve of new dawn. Torn in separated worlds of existence, this woman opens a final vein, surrendering to a mystical undertow, bowing to her worst enemies, for she still believes in more, even as this broken vessel, and here, she releases her fight.

On this night, she rests on a flat, endless bed of red ocean, rocking her blue dreams awake. Her sorry eyes close, seeing memories flash and swell, that un-spill a heedless crime, yet still, she is bound to forgive humanity’s worst mistakes, recalling warm flowers growing distantly in her mind, as the stars wrap a cold, thick blanket around her lacerated soul. Here, she cracks open and falls backwards into the folds, on this grave of beach, as her wild, fragile will rises to greet the kingdom above, her wings unfastening outwards and her halo magnifying.

Still, somewhere else, another figment of her will advances against the odds. Somewhere else, a part of her stands to face the teardrop moon. Somewhere else, faith survives a crash. Somewhere else, two swanlike forms make a unique bond. Somewhere else, an angel discovers her wings. Somewhere else, a lady wears a string of solid, white pearls, and the fields catch on fire, and a child grows from a seed, blossoming into green grass tunnels, and wakes.

About Stephanie Flood

Stephanie Flood is an author on The Story Shack.

>> Stephanie Flood's author page

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