Angels and Humans | Ep04 | Crush
She smiled as she knelt and patted the kitten's head
The cat purred at her heel and pushed its nose against her asking for ever more attention. She obliged by scratching it under its tiny bony chin as it increased the purring in appreciation. Animals, instinct drives them, they are all predictable. All of them if you understand their needs and expectations of the world. There is always a line of experience running from their past, directing their present and welcoming the future.
What seems random to them is not so at all, they are just to unaware to understand, to simple an organism to hold the vast complexity of existence. Perhaps, if they had been aware from the start like she had, they would be able to at least have a picture of what existence entails.
They spend their time imagining what may be, many believing hey know what is but what can they know? How can one grasp the completeness of eternity when bound by finite time and language? It is an impossibility for as simple as it is, they are too attached to their definitions to let go and let reality flood in.
She lifted her head and watched as a plate smashed against the wall
The cat started at the sound and then shot off to under the worn leather couch, the nose that had just nuzzled her ankle now poked out in fear. Animals are predictable, the past dictates the present, the cat had seen this before and already knew what the future held.
A voice raised, bristling with anger, "How could you!"
The food that had been on the plate slowly slid down the wall in a quest to unite with the plate again, not realising that what it had known no longer existed. It had been split, fragmented, crushed until what was once useful and complete, was useless, trash.
How many times had this happened where something that has so much to offer, so much potential is restricted, beaten and choked until the point of suffocation. Life crushed and vacuum sealed so that it will forever be held in position, unable to grow, unable to disappear.
She stood in the doorway and watched them
Her head was hung, she stared at the floor. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, the stink of sweat and cigarettes on his clothes. Every time the same question would enter her mind, 'How did I get here, why can't I leave?'
He had swept her off her feet, it had been a fairytale romance, a life filed with promise of adventure and excitement, a union of two who would conquer their worlds together. Now, here she was, beaten, broken, fragmented, stuck. She was now as useless as the plate that lay spread in tiny pieces across the lounge room floor.
Would this be her day, the day she stand up to him and reclaims who she was, takes back responsibility and cuts her way out of the vacuum so as to once again breathe the air of freedom? She felt her chin lift and her body tense as the resolve to act began to harden into action.
Her face lifted, her eyes met his with defiance in them. The blow came and she fell to her knees as the familiar numbness filled her cheek, followed by the blinding pain. Again, the same thoughts had fooled her into thinking that this time would be different, that this time she had the strength.
She knelt down by her side and whispered
She breathed as a warmth filled her body, a glow filled her mind. Her shoulder blades dropped and her arms relaxed into the floor. She was ready. No more defiance, no more stench of drunkenness to face day after day.
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, there was no more pain, no anger, just a calmness within. He stood and watched in horror as his twisted and tormented mind had failed for the first time to achieve its goal. Failed to induce the fear in her that he craved.
She looked up at him from the floor but the scene which had played out countless times before had changed. Identical in action, fundamentally different in nature. He took a step back and pressed against the kitchen counter, staring at her the whole time as his mind could not grasp what had gone wrong, what he was missing, how he had lost control.
Her eyes soft, her voice softer "Your time will come".
His hand gripped the hand of the skillet and as if killing a spider with a newspaper, he brought it crashing down upon her head. She would move no more, she would suffer no more, she would suffocate no more. She was free.
She looked at the tears that streamed down his face. If only he knew.
Taraz
[ a Steemit original ]
Self Realization, either divinely inspired, or through suffering, does remove hate and fear. When that fear is gone, peace sets in, and you know that not even death is to be feared.
i like your story its fanrastic
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