The Shawl (Requiem), 2011

Opening:

In my words shuffle madness sloughing their skin,

Of enslaved words in beds, above the din

Scudding and drifting in waking dreams

In seas raging

Seemingly seems

I had so much to say.

J. Alfred, Head Servant

That was her last lie.

 Excerpt:

It is night time and from the closet, I see her pale reflection in the window - it is pale like an apparition. Her reflection wiggles and shakes its neon dress and unravels into the distant sea. Lights from the city flicker effortlessly, like streaking eyes shooting down the deserted retreats and shadow-filled streets - the multiple, luminescent eyes of a forest glaring and glimpsing at solitude’s echoless step. But today she is not alone. She is never alone. There is something I need to ask her.

I can see her reflection of alabaster arms and wrists stretched across the table, a statue muttering over the rising steam of her tea. Occasionally, I hear her male visitor. She flicks her hair – her waterfall of honey, brushing it out of her face - in this place - where her hair is honey and her lips are velvet petals—a supple velvet that changes shades when it is smoothed by another’s lips. Soon her memory is like the din that rises from the tea cups and spoons; nothing more than the clattering whisper of a measured spoon. And I can no longer look into that formless reflection where the longing coils around my neck and wrists and ankles; the tightening snap that gently fetters me along, making me think that I am free, and then the pull and the tug when I stray to the fence, trying to see what is on the other side - to see what is beyond this twilight that wiggles and pulsates and shakes its dress, unravelling into the sea. 

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Of Interest:

The Shawl (Requiem) is a rewrite of a nearly completed piece from 2009. Unfortunately The Shawl, along with other items, were lost when the computer hardware was stolen from me. By using some notes, some printed pages of a rough draft and some passages stored elsewhere, I was able revisit The Shawl. Although I was unable to duplicate the tone and original intention of the piece, The Shawl represents the first piece I wrote with the intention of one day publishing.

The Shawl was inspired by a wedding I attended. I was struck by the Bride's bright red Shawl worn over her white wedding dress. It struck me as an item seldomly worn. The opening line came to me suddenly and hence I was inspired to write a story exploring how one can be an accessory in another's life.

 The Shawl_Requiem_Complete.pdf