Fresh 5 Writing contest - Breaking Point

in writing •  8 months ago

The urge to itch was too much. Ania, however, was a professional. She was lying down in a designer dress made from an extremely unpleasant material, leftover rugs, if she were to guess. To top it off she was smelling wheat. She hadn’t had carbs in over a month. Not counting that impulsive fortune cookie, she’d gorged on last month. It had warned of hard times to come, and it didn’t get harder than laying in a wheat field, on the verge of tears.

There were flashy lights on her face but the light had left her eyes. Her detached eyes looking at the world from the outside. There were people everywhere, but she wasn’t there. The faraway dreamy look was characteristic of the great Ania. Her high cheekbones, and lustrous blonde hair, the svelte figure were a legend in the modelling world. She had dated tycoons, race car drivers, princes of obscure nations.There had been songs dedicated to her beauty.

After the usual goodbyes and well dones were said, she went home. The darkness and the loneliness gnawed at her. She fell into a delirious sleep dreaming of hot buns her grandmother used to make .The buns became very angry and started attacking her. A tiny hand pulled her away.
She woke up covered in cold sweat, packed her bag in a frenzy and set towards the airport, running away from it all. She reached the airport and reality struck a mighty blow for truth is an ugly pugilist.

Her mind was blank as she faced a thoroughly irritated woman. "Where do you want to go?".

She managed only one word. “India.” That was where Lucy lived.

Lucy, her younger sister. They had been close once, but their interests and paths in life digressed. Lucy was the apple of their parent’s eyes. Lucy eclipsed everything in Ania’s life. A fifteen-year-old Ania landing her first modelling contract, the day Lucy got into college. Ania landed her first cover of Vogue, Lucy became a doctor. Ania’s face was plastered on billboards everywhere, Lucy was getting married. Ania collapsed on the ramp and was taken to the hospital, Lucy was having her baby.

She did love her sister but it also brought on a wave of bitterness. She wished she were a better person. She had given Lucy’s tuition fees, had bought that first stethoscope, gave her a wedding dress and named her baby.


Her first impression of India was of a swarm of life drowning humanity. There were people everywhere, as far as the eyes could see. Hypocrisy in every frame. She saw a Mercedes being blocked by a wandering cow, people living on the side of the road beside palatial bungalows. Yet she couldn’t fathom who was happier. The paradox tugged at her mind.

She was tired. The liveliness of it all made her feel weary, somehow. She reached Lucy’s address, she’d had it with her a while and remembered it like a talisman, her only saving grace.
As she was nearing Lucy’s house, she saw the whole family outside playing with the garden pipe. Lucy’s daughter spraying water on their parents and the helpless parents giggling away. The clover shaped necklace that had been her mother’s, glinting on Lucy’s neck.

Ania ran away. There was a stream at the end of the road. It was thin, trickling against the enormous stones, listlessly. So little was the impact of water that the stones weren’t wet. Like it didn’t matter. Suddenly she fell and was holding on to a branch but the branch kept trying to get away from her.

She didn’t know how long she stood there. But suddenly she felt fingers around her arms. She tried to fight it but more hands came to grab her, holding her back.

1 day later
Ania looked at the white padded cell, the clover stamped scars on her hand, the stale piece of bread, and laughed.



The beautiful artwork was created by @alexandravart. Thanks to the @thewritersblock and @nobyeni for the editing.

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Her first impression of India was of a swarm of life drowning humanity. There were people everywhere, as far as the eyes could see. Hypocrisy in every frame. She saw a Mercedes being blocked by a wandering cow, people living on the side of the road beside palatial bungalows. Yet she couldn’t fathom who was happier. The paradox tugged at her mind.

This is exactly how I remember it too. Perfect.

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I've written reams of essays on the paradox that is India, just wanted to capture a nugget.

I don't know why but the story of the life of Camille Caudel..Rod's lover came to me,..then as I continue reading the story...the white padded cell.....
Great piece of writing
K

Wow! Your writing is exquisite. I really enjoyed this from the dream down to running away from her mother's favorite daughter.
The Paradox of dream success couched in deep loneliness and a longing for meaning. Your descriptions are wonderful and this left me deeply sad for Ania. I hope to read more of this story because I really got caught up in the pace and the emotion.
I love this;

for truth is an ugly pugilist.

Charu, this story is such a breath of fresh air, and I mean that both in the transitions of settings into the country where tradition and technology could be juxtaposed and weighed against their roles to true happiness, and in the OMG WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING HERE ways.

Seriously, I was so ready for the favored sister's hand to catch our narrator and a sibling rivalry redemption story meets realizing that family is the ultimate support in an otherwise tumultuous life where people get lost looking for happiness in all the wrong places - you built it up so incredibly well!

Then to have that rug completely pulled from under me, with not even a branch to hold on to as I went out on wet stones I didn't even know were there - man, floored me.

The sheer insanity of... well, the loss of sanity was like a gut punch and reminded me of the key to humor: do something your audience least expects. Your semi-dadaist approach to narratives makes reading you so much fun and, even though I'm not usually one to comment on short stories since I can't wrap myself around composing one and feel intimidated, I had to tell you how much I enjoyed this read.

Thank you for sharing, @diebitch, absolutely crushed it.

P.S. couldn't help but notice that mate in your comments, was wondering if you might have selected him? He looks like he would be an ample and pleasing tribute for the ritual, don't you agree?

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much like truth, I'm an ugly pugilist, the guy has no idea what's in store for him.

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I am so glad you have such a great response on your post, more that @carmalain7 I am intimidated to express my opinion in words but I will express it in a new drawing of the sisters :)
and I can upvote the comments here that have something smart to say :)

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Thanks Alex

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thank you so much for those kind words, Alex, I am absolutely and unequivocally honored by them.

That said, you opinion matters just as much as mine, eloquently written or not, Alex. Or, better yet, eloquently and beautifully artistically capture!

You have talent overflowing from your fingers, @alexandravart, in ways I can't even imagine, I believe always in you, your words, and your expression of opinion. ^_^

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Awesome story!
I finally got over here to read more of your writing.

i missed something... lol

what were the clover stamped scars?

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I'll not tell you!!!

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So so so mean!!!! 😂😂😂😂😂

nice, i like you

select me miss

It's a good piece, a very good piece. I read it, then went back and read it again carefully.

I admire this sort of writing and that you entered it in a competition. Shows something that I don't posses.

Thanks for sharing it.

She wished she were a better person. She had given Lucy’s tuition fees, had bought that first stethoscope, gave her a wedding dress and named her baby. Just like my aunt, she paid my fees, I never used a stethoscope but she got me my first laptop and promised to get me my wedding dress and has tons of names for my baby when I get pregnant.
The drawing is awesome

ROFL, I just loved the ending. Perfect sense of humor, mixed with the obvious creative spark. Well done.