Short Story as Psychotherapy

“She sometimes imagined that she could hear the corpuscles knock on the valves, polite as old nuns, before sweeping in with their sacred bath of life.”

This is a line I wrote for my short story, called Breathless. It is the post-apocalyptic tale of a woman, a mechanical egg, and how the fear of losing hope can prevent a person taking necessary risks. At least, that’s what my story is about.

Prompt: What about yours?

2 Comments

  1. In my story, a woman is getting older but has all the requisites for happiness. She doesn't write/imagine as beautifully as your character does, but she has cats and friends and interests.

    We have to ask ourselves, though, as the story unfolds, "What is 'enough?'" and "Will our protag ever know?"

    Lastly, through some sort of miraculous techno-breakthrough, I figured out how to do a real blog roll–so now I don't have to wander off the Ruby Slippers backstage to find out if you have posted.

    Maybe THAT is "enough." (But I doubt it.)

  2. I am so me-centered these weeks that I am only beginning to be able to respond to these great comments.
    Your blogroll inspired me to put one on the Wench. You inspire me all the time, you know. In fact, sometimes I feel envy of all your accomplishments, and I have to remind myself to transform envy into inspiration.

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