Hourglass, prose by Abagail Summers at Spillwords.com
J Williams Tabzu

Hourglass

Hourglass

written by: Abagail Summers

 

Time was running out, she knew.
The sun beamed through the thick glass,
creating a spotlight on her fingertips as they moved
the white satin inch by inch.

The hours passed by like minutes as the bedroom heated up. She knew by the way her fingers were trembling, it was time to give it a rest, but as she stared at the piece of soft cloth that laid on her paper-thin skin, she couldn’t stop, not now, not until it was done.

She slid the lace onto the edges and with care tapped her foot on the pedal below.
Every so often, she removed the fabric and checked for errors, but with her eyes, she had to rely on her instincts.

Time had peeled away like the wallpaper around her, the color faded, stripped of its glory. But it was still there. Purpose. It seemed to breathe into her like an hourglass, droplets of sand falling fast. She wanted to pause it, such control, she never had, but the movie was nearing its finale. Credits were ready to roll for a life well-done.

The vessel the body contained had changed, but the woman inside had not. It was clawing, climbing within to be seen. Hammering the boards back down and sailing out to deep seas, her brittle hands wrapped around the steering wheel as it drifted from side to side. She was the captain, the sky above knew it, the clouds that drifted by followed her as though she had opened a pathway, a destiny that others could trail behind.

Finished.
She held it up to the light, waves of silk danced in the shadows, a reflection of remembrance. White, the color of purity, innocence, and life. How could she be bruised by such beauty?

As she closed the heavy curtains, darkness stretched out to the corners of the room, she crawled onto the bed, her eyelids lowered, a gentle breeze caressed her skin, and she floated into another world.

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